After the meeting with Mycroft, they were led back to the car by Mycroft's MIB-esque driver. As he held the door open for them, he asked, "Where to?"

The group hesitated, everyone looking to the Doctor for an answer. He rubbed the back of his neck distractedly. "We need more information about Saxon. There's gotta be a laptop, computer, something."

"My flat," Sherlock offered immediately. "My laptop should be there somewhere, and I doubt anyone's still in there."

The Doctor nodded. "Take us to 221B Baker Street," he told the driver.

SCENEBREAK

The car dropped them off just outside Sherlock's apartment building, then drove off. They were on their own now.

Sherlock took a quick look in the window, then announced, "Mrs. Hudson's not there, it's safe to go in." Molly didn't ask how he knew, she just took his word for it as he let them into the building. They filed up the stairs, waiting as Sherlock got the apartment door open for them.

As he went to unlock the door, it swung open at his touch, letting out a loud creak making them all freeze. They tried to backtrack down the stairs, but it was too late. A familiar voice called out, "Hello? Is that you, Mrs. Hudson?" followed by a figure stepping out from behind the door.

Molly blanched. "Lestrade!"

The detective inspector didn't even seem to notice her. His attention was solely focused on Sherlock, his face going sheet-white. "Sherlock," he breathed.

The Doctor shot Sherlock an irritated glare. "Oh yeah, no one's home, we're completely safe here," he snarked.

Sherlock glared back, but didn't respond, instead turning to Lestrade. He rolled his eyes at the gaping cop. "Yes, I'm alive, yes, I'm really here, now if you could stop gaping like an idiot, I'd appreciate it, I have more important things on my mind."

Molly gave the consulting detective a nervous glance. "He's not supposed to know you're alive. What about Moriarty?"

"I think we have bigger things to worry about than one gunman," Sherlock pointed out. "Still, Lestrade, best keep away from any windows, hmm?" He pushed past the still-gaping Lestrade into the apartment, the rest of the group slowly following suit.

Molly lingered, smiling sympathetically at Lestrade. "I know it's a lot to take in, but just trust us, alright? We've got bigger problems than Sherlock being alive right now. I know he was your friend, so please, trust us. I'll explain everything later."

Lestrade hesitated, then sighed, shaking his head slightly. "What do you need?" he asked resignedly.

"Sherlock's laptop. Is it still here?"

The detective inspector nodded. "Mrs. Hudson asked me to come by and pick it up, along with a few other things. I didn't get the chance to move it yet."

Molly grinned. "Good." She led Lestrade into the apartment, where everyone was seated on the couch, crowding around Sherlock and his laptop. He quickly pulled up Saxon's website, shifting through the different parts of the site, pulling up new tabs to search online for different parts of his personal information. "Mycroft's right," he observed, "the records are rubbish. But there's nothing here Mycroft hasn't already told us."

Jack glanced anxiously at the door . "We're not safe here," he decided. "That landlady of yours could come back any time, and I'm willing to bet the Master knows where you live."

"The Master?" Lestrade repeated incredulously. "What are you on about? In fact, what are any of you on about?! Would someone please like to tell me what the hell's going on here?!" He turned an accusing glare on Sherlock, growling, "You selfish bastard, what the hell are you playing at? Do you have idea what your death did to John? Do you even care at all?!" His voice shook with emotion – Molly could tell John wasn't the only one who'd been just by Sherlock's death.

Sherlock's gaze dropped to the floor at the mention of John, pain flashing in his eyes. The Doctor rose from the couch and came up to Lestrade, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Detective Inspector, I'm sorry about all this," he said softly. "We wouldn't have done this if we'd had any other choice. I promise you, you'll get your explanation, but right now we're too exposed. Is there somewhere we can hide out for a while?"

Lestrade hesitated, but the Doctor's calm tone had diffused most of his anger. He finally sighed. "Yeah, my old house, no one's stayed there since my wife and I split up and I moved out."

The Doctor nodded. "Thanks." Sherlock started to close the laptop, but before he could, a notice popped up that read, "Saxon Broadcast All Channels." Frowning, the Doctor went to turn on the TV. Saxon immediately appeared on-screen, wearing that same smug smirk. "Our lord and master is speaking to his kingdom," the Doctor said with evident disgust.

Saxon was saying, "Britain, Britain, Britain. What extraordinary times we've had. Just a few years ago, this world was so small. And then they came, out of the unknown, falling from the skies. You've seen it happen." Clips began to play from different news reels of alien encounters as Saxon narrated, "Big Ben destroyed. A spaceship over London. All those ghosts and metal men. The Christmas star that came to kill. Time and time again, and the government told you nothing."

Molly frowned. The alien pretending to be human was blatantly promoting the existence of aliens? What was he playing at? The Master continued, "Well, not me. Not Harold Saxon. Because my purpose here today is to tell you this. Citizens of Great Britain, I have been contacted. A message for humanity, from beyond the stars."

The companion stiffened in surprise as a floating metal sphere roughly the size of a football flit onto screen beside the Master. In a high female voice, it said, "People of the Earth, we come in peace. We bring great gifts. We bring technology and wisdom and protection. And all we ask in return is your friendship."

The Master grinned smugly. "Ooo, sweet. And this species has identified itself. They are called the Toclafane."

The Doctor looked totally baffled as the Master named the sphere. "What?"

Saxon continued, "And tomorrow morning, they will appear. Not in secret, but to all of you. Diplomatic relations with a new species will begin. Tomorrow, we take our place in the universe. Every man, woman and child. Every teacher and chemist and lorry driver and farmer." He threw a side glance at the camera as he added, "Oh, I don't know, every detective?"

The group froze. He could only be referring to Sherlock. The Doctor hurried to check behind the TV, blanching at what he saw. "Out!" he ordered sharply. Grabbing the laptop, he led his companions down the stairs and out into the street. Even as they stopped to catch their breath, there was an explosion from inside 221B Baker Street, with a great fireball smashing out the windows. Molly felt a tremor of fear as she realized how close a call that had been.

SCENEBREAK

As they got their breath back, the Doctor asked weakly, "All right?"

Jack nodded shakily. "Fine, yeah, fine," he panted.

Sherlock and Molly just nodded silently, but Lestrade was staring wide-eyed at the smoke pooling out from the window. "Wha-what just happened?" He seemed truly and properly confused now, and the Doctor didn't blame him. There'd been a lack of actual explanations and a lot of information that didn't make sense, not to mention a very close call with an explosion.

Suddenly, Sherlock pulled out his phone. "Sherlock? What are you doing?" the Doctor asked warily.

The consulting detective didn't look up as he explained, "If he knows where I live, he'll know about John and Mrs. Hudson."

"You can't call them," the Time Lord warned sharply.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Obviously. I'm texting Mycroft." He waited a few moments for a reply, then relaxed slightly. "We worked out a code when we were young. Even if Saxon's reading, he won't understand, and now Mycroft'll make sure John and Mrs. Hudson are safe."

The Doctor relaxed slightly. "Good." He glanced at Lestrade. "What about you? Any family to worry about?"

The detective inspector still looked confused, but he shook his head and replied, "My ex-wife died in a car crash a few months back. I've got no other family."

Satisfied, the Doctor turned to Jack. "What about your Torchwood team?"

The captain shrugged helplessly. "I called them earlier, but they didn't answer. I'll try again." He pulled out his phone and put in the Torchwood number, but when he got an answer, he stiffened, expression hardening. He growled, "Saxon, what the hell have you done with my team?"

The Doctor snatched the phone from Jack. "I'm here," he said quietly to the other Time Lord.

The Master's voice purred from the phone. "Doctor."

"Master," the Doctor returned.

The other Time Lord chuckled. "I like it when you use my name."

The Doctor shrugged. "You chose it," he reminded his old friend. "Psychiatrist's field day."

"As you chose yours. The man who makes people better. How sanctimonious is that?"

The Doctor ignored the dig, instead saying, "So, Prime Minister, then."

He could practically hear the Master's grin of delight. "I know. It's good, isn't it?"

Enough beating around the bush. "Who are those creatures? Because there's no such thing as the Toclafane. It's just a made up name, like the Bogeyman." Just a story, a story from Gallifrey. With the Master back, and now the Toclafane, he didn't know if he could take another reminder of the home he'd destroyed.

The Master chuckled. "Do you remember all those fairy tales about the Toclafane when we were kids back home?" He was quiet a moment, sounding much more subdued as he asked, "Where is it, Doctor?"

The Doctor swallowed, fighting back the old pain, suddenly raw as the day he'd done the deed. "Gone," he finally managed. Molly must have guessed what they were talking about, for she put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He gave her a small, grateful smile.

"How can Gallifrey be gone?" There was accusation, yes, but fear too, and pain, the same pain the Doctor shared. He remembered their childhood together, how the vast cathedral and red mountains towered over their heads, mighty and proud. Never could they have imagined so mighty a planet could be destroyed.

"It burnt," he whispered. Because of me, he added silently.

After another pause, the Master asked almost dully, "And the Time Lords?" Already trying to be numb to the pain, even as it ripped away at his hearts. The Doctor knew the feeling all too well.

"Dead. And the Daleks, more or less." At least, he hoped. He hadn't run into Dalek Caan again, and he had no guarantee he was dead. "What happened to you?"

"The Time Lords only resurrected me because they knew I'd be the perfect warrior for a Time War. I was there when the Dalek Emperor took control of the Cruciform." His voice grew soft with child-like fear. "I saw it. I ran. I ran so far. Made myself human so they would never find me, because I was so scared."

"I know," the Doctor said gently. After all, after the war, he'd never stopped running.

"All of them?" the Master repeated, voice suddenly sharp with interest. "But not you, which must mean – "

The Doctor nodded grimly. "I was the only one who could end it. And I tried. I did. I tried everything."

"What did it feel like, though?" the Master whispered. There was a sudden hunger to his tone, an eagerness that left the Doctor chilled. "Two almighty civilizations burning. Oh, tell me, how did that feel?"

"Stop it!" the Doctor ordered sharply. This wasn't the way he'd wanted this to go, wasn't something he'd ever wanted to face.

"You must have been like God," the Master said with relish.

"I've been alone ever since," the Doctor admitted quietly. "But not anymore. Don't you see? All we've got is each other."

He could hear the Master's amused chuckle. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

The Doctor ignored the jab and continued, "You could stop this right now. We could leave this planet. We can fight across the constellations, if that's what you want, but not on Earth."

"Too late."

Desperately, the Doctor asked, "Why do you say that?"

There was a pause, then, in a soft tone, the Master told him, "The drumming. Can't you hear it? I thought it would stop, but it never does. Never ever stops. Inside my head, the drumming, Doctor. The constant drumming."

The Doctor felt a shiver of fear. For the first time, he wondered if the Master was actually, properly insane. He felt a rush of grief for his old friend. Even after everything the Master had done, after what he was doing now, it hurt to see what had become of his old friend. Slowly, desperately, he appealed to the Master. "I could help you. Please, let me help."

As though he hadn't heard, the other Time Lord continued, "It's everywhere. Listen, listen, listen. Here come the drums. Here come the drums."

Across the street, a man began tapping out the same rhythm the Doctor had seen earlier. Da-da-da dum, da-da-da dum, da-da-da dum. He froze. The drumbeat. That's what it was, the beat of the drums, the drums from the Master's mind. The realization gave him a desperate thrill of fear. "What have you done? Tell me how you've done this. What are those creatures? Tell me!"

"Ooo look. You're on TV," the Master crooned.

"Stop it," the Doctor growled impatiently. "Answer me."

"No, really. You're on telly," he repeated. The Doctor whirled around to see a TV in a display window nearby showing him and his companions, under the headline, "Nationwide Hunt for Terror Suspects." Sherlock was mostly hidden behind Jack and Molly, which was good since he was supposed to be dead, and Lestrade was facing away from the camera, but Molly, Jack, and the Doctor were clearly visible. "You and your little band. Didn't you used to be a one-woman kind of Time Lord?"

The Doctor paled in fear. "You're public enemies number one, two and three, four, and ooo five, a new face. Oh, and you can tell handsome Jack that I've sent his little gang off on a wild goose chase to the Himalayas, so he won't be getting any help from them. Now, go on, off you go. Why not start by turning to the right?"

He obeyed, freezing as he saw a security camera staring right at them. "He can see us," he warned the others. He held up his sonic screwdriver, deactivating the camera.

"Oh, you public menace. Better start running. Go on, run."

"He's got control of everything," Jack growled out, glaring at the now-useless camera.

"Doctor, what do we do?" Molly asked.

"Run, Doctor," the Master taunted. "Run for your life!"

The Doctor gulped. "We run."

So they ran.

EDIT: Okay, somehow this chapter got deleted and replaced with a duplicate of Part 3 of this episode. So yeah. Here, it's back. Sorry about that.

Yesh, now Lestrade has joined in the fun. And since I updated early, you lucky readers might get another chapter tonight.