One look at the panicked faces of his friends confirmed what Sherlock had known all along: that he was the only one with any brains in the group. Of course, he had been wrong about this particular situation. Like Clara, he had believed Dadre's son did not exist. But, unlike everyone else, he had come prepared for trouble.

Slowly, he turned around to face the strange Raxacoricofallapatorian. He did bear a strong resemblance to his mother. The main difference was in the eyes. While Dadre's eyes were wild and full of bloodlust, the alien before them was calm and collected.

"Are you here to kill us for revenge?" the Doctor asked calmly.

"Yes," Dadre's son stated simply. "That's the benefit of having an assassin for a son."

It only took Sherlock a second to take in everything. John and Clara had stepped closer to each other protectively with fists clenched. The Doctor had his screwdriver in his hand. Molly was shaking and had stepped closer to him. The alien's muscles were tense, as if he were about to pounce. And Sherlock was the only one armed.

In a sudden motion, the alien lunged at Sherlock, as if he could sense somehow that he was the one who had killed Dadre. Just as quickly, Sherlock reached into his coat and drew one of the Doctor's stun guns. He fired once, causing Dadre's son to stumble. As he tried to regain his balance and continue his attack, Sherlock fired again.

The alien's eyes widened as his legs buckled. He reached his arm out towards Sherlock as he fell. It wasn't until too late that Sherlock noticed the claw-like dart that was hurtling straight for his heart.

There was no time to move out of the way. Sherlock closed his eyes and braced himself for the hit that he knew may kill him.

It never came. Sherlock opened his eyes slowly to see Molly Hooper standing in front of him, hunched over and grabbing at her shoulder. Without a second thought, Sherlock ran to scoop her into his arms. She let out a startled cry as he did so, but she made no other objection.

"Don't move," Sherlock said softly. "It will only make the poison spread quicker."

She nodded mutely. Her face was scrunched up in pain, but she smiled bravely. "You saved my life," Sherlock continued. "Thank you."

Holding Molly tightly to his chest, Sherlock turned to the Doctor. "We have to go," he said.

The Doctor nodded in agreement. "We'll go back to the same hospital," he said. "Best hospital in-"

His voice was drowned out by sudden shouts. Sherlock whirled around quickly. His eyes widened in shock as Raxacoricofallapatorians surrounded them. "Doctor!" one voice rose above the rest.

Sherlock clutched Molly tighter, protectively. "What's happening?" she gasped.

"I think they saw me shoot Dadre's son," Sherlock murmured. "And now they aren't very happy."

"Quiet!" roared the alien who seemed to be in charge. All at once, the angry shout stopped. "Doctor, explain yourself."

"He was Dadre's son. He was going to kill us for revenge," he explained calmly. "He's only stunned. Now, the girl is injured, and I really need to take her to a hospital."

The alien snorted in disbelief. "Petrir was a good Raxacoricofallapatorian. Doctor, you and your friends are under arrest."

Sherlock stepped forward to face the alien. "You can't do this. She's hurt. She will die."

The alien quickly examined Molly. "We will cure her," he said. "Do you really think we are unable to cure our own venom?"

The crowd started to move, and the group of humans plus Time Lord were pushed along with it. "Doctor, please tell me you have a plan," Clara said. Despite the situation, her voice sounded more annoyed than worried.

"Don't worry, Clara. I can prove that we were attacked first."

John appeared by Sherlock's side. "Is she okay?" he asked. He grabbed her wrist and checked her pulse.

"I am," Molly croaked weakly. Her eyes were drooping.

"Stay awake as long as you can," John ordered. "Sherlock, of course you would grab a gun. It saved us this time, I guess."

The group was led to the same building, but once inside, they were brought into a room full of cells. A cell door was opened, and The Doctor, Clara, and John were herded inside. The door was slammed shut forcefully. It rattled the entire cell.

The lead alien grabbed Sherlock's arm and steered him further inside, past more empty cells along the drafty hallway. In the back of the room, there was an open space for a table and shelf.

"Set her down," the lead alien commanded.

Sherlock did as he was told, approaching the metal table and gently laying Molly down. By now, she had lost consciousness.

The alien dug around the top drawer and produced a syringe. "This will heal her," he explained. He took Molly's arm and gently inserted the needle into her elbow. Her entire face seemed to relax as the medicine rushed through her blood. "It works quickly," he explained. "She should wake soon." As he talked, he wrapped the used syringe in plastic and disposed if it in a small, metal can.

Sherlock took Molly into his arms again, and the alien led him back to the cell that held his friends. The alien opened the door to shove them inside before slamming it once again. Without a word, he left the room.

The detective crossed the cell to the black opposite the door and sat. He studied the Doctor, who was pacing near the door. He wasn't at all worried about their condition; just mildly irritated. Whatever his plan was, he had full confidence in it. With that in mind, Sherlock let himself relax as they waited.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

Leaning against the wall, Clara sat with her shoulder just barely touching John's. "Well, this is exciting," she muttered.

"Does this happen often?" John asked, his voice light with amusement.

Clara snorted. "More often than I'd like."

"It could be hours before they come back to question us," the Doctor groaned.

"Why don't you tell us a story?" Clara asked. "It would help pass the time."

The Doctor sighed as he walked over to the wall opposite Clara and John. He leaned against it and slid down to a sitting position. "I have plenty of those. Enough to last a lifetime."

"I'd love to hear a story," Molly piped up. Along the adjacent wall, she was sitting with her head leaning on Sherlock's shoulder. His arm was wrapped around her waist protectively. Molly had told Clara that earlier that Sherlock didn't care for her, but it seemed that she was wrong. He had just needed a little nudge to see it.

John took her hand in his own. "That's a good idea," he agreed. "Tell us a story."

The Doctor hummed as he thought. "Okay. I've got one," he announced. "More than a thousand years ago, in my tenth regeneration, I was traveling with a women named Donna Noble. I received a strange message on my psychic paper, asking me to come to the Library. So, Donna and I arrive to find the Library completely abandoned. Only, it wasn't. After checking the computer, I found out that there were a million million living things, but there was still silence in the Library.

"After some exploring, Donna and I came across a group of archeologists. There was one among them, a women, who already knew me. Her name was Professor River Song."

Clara gasped, causing John to face her. "I've always wanted to hear this story," she whispered to him.

"When it became clear that I had no idea who she was, River was heartbroken. But, like the fighter she was, she pulled it together and remained calm through it all.

"One of the computers revealed a strange message for us. It told us that we needed to count our shadows if we wanted to live. We soon learned that the shadows could move, and we found ourselves running from an unknown enemy. It was as if the darkness had grown sentience and was out to get us.

"As it turned out, the shadows were the Vashta Nerada, millions of tiny insects that hid in the dark and could strip flesh to bone in mere milliseconds."

The Doctor continued to talk about the strange library, and how the Vashta Nerada slowly claimed more victims. He told them how the computer claimed Donna Noble, and how River had his screwdriver and knew his name. Finally, he told them about CAL, and how the only option to save everybody trapped in the computer was for somebody to die.

"I was ready to die," the Doctor continued. "I was about to sit in that chair and let my brain be fried when she intervened. She knocked me out and handcuffed me to a desk just so that I wouldn't die. She died to assure that I would meet her again someday, and that I would grow to love her."

A single tear had fallen down Clara's cheek. Her affection for the sad archeologist she had met long ago grew. "Thank you for telling us that," she said softly.

The door to the room was thrown open. The Doctor leapt up and rushed to the cell door as the alien approached. "Alright. Who can tell me what happened?"

"I'll do you one better," the Doctor replied. "I'll show you."