Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I've been really busy lately. In about 4 chapters, it's the end of part 1, which means I'm going to make you wait a week or two before you get the first chapter of part 2 :p Part 2 isn't as long as part 1 though. Enjoy!
Chapter 17: What's Read Can't be Unread
The ride to Steven Moffat's house was long and tense. I wanted to say something to Dean about the way he acted back in the TARDIS but I could tell that he was upset enough already and my talking would just make it worse. I had a feeling that he really didn't like the Doctor. I couldn't understand how anyone could hate that guy. But Dean seemed to want as far away from him as possible since we'd met.
We arrived at his house to find the TARDIS already there, hidden in the bushed. It would have been invisible to me, had I not been looking for it. I was itching to write every little detail of this house into the journal, including the little blue box hiding in the bushes.
When I stepped out of the Impala, I headed immediately towards the TARDIS.
"Where are you going?" Dean asked. I pointed at the TARDIS. Dean sighed and said, "We don't need them."
"We said we'd meet them here."
"Ya and here we are and here they are. Now let's go!"
I avoided creating further argument and followed him to the front door. It was a big, well taken care of house. Someone clearly got paid enough to write this show.
Dean leaned forwards and pushed the doorbell. A woman with short blonde hair answered the door. I could see a small boy with dark, curly hair peeking out from behind a wall inside. I smiled.
"Hello, what can I do for you?" The woman asked.
I pulled out my fake FBI badge and Dean did as well, "We're agents Hetfield and Hammet. Could we speak to Steven Moffat?"
"Um, of course. Come inside," She said and opened the door to let us in. She silently shooed the little boy away and he ran off. It wasn't long after that when she asked, "Is my husband in trouble?"
"No, mam. We'd just like to ask him a few questions," I said.
She left us alone in her family room and ran off to get Moffat.
"What do we ask?" Dean whispered to me.
"Don't fret, I've got it all planned out," I said as who must have been Steven Moffat walked into the room.
"Hello boys," he said, shaking each of our hands. Dean and I sat on the black, leather couch while Moffat sat in a chair across from us.
"We were wondering what you could tell us what you know about James Moriarty," I asked.
"Sure. But may I ask: Why me?" He asked.
"We've had people tell us about you," I said exactly how I'd planned it.
"All good things I hope," He smiled, clearly trying to look calm.
I smiled, "Of course. Mr. Moffat, we want you to know now that you aren't in trouble. We don't suspect you for anything. We have just been told that you know a bit more about the subject."
"Right," he said.
"Before you get to the James Moriarty part, I'd like to ask you, when did you start writing for TV shows and movies?" Dean asked.
"It had always been a dream of mine, ever since I was young. I wrote a bit before Doctor Who, but suddenly it just came to me. All these ideas, all these stories. That's when I started writing alongside Russell for Doctor Who," He explained.
"And you haven't written for much else besides Doctor Who?" Dean asked.
Moffat hesitated, "I suppose this is why they sent you here."
"What is it Mr. Moffat?" I asked.
"Come with me," he said, and we followed him into another room. It looked like it could have been his office. "I started this a couple of years ago. I wanted to recreate Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes series as a TV show but I kept putting it off. One day I finally brought it up to my friend Mark Gatiss, he thought it was brilliant. But not long after that, Sherlock Holmes became famous. I thought it was a strange coincidence at first, but then his life started matching my script. We had already started planning the show, and as soon as we realized this, we stopped, and swore not to tell anyone. It hasn't been brought up since, but I kept writing. The ideas just kept coming and I couldn't stop."
Moffat handed me a script from Sherlock, the TV series. I flipped through the first couple of pages to see how Sherlock had met John for the first time. That's when I knew that Moffat was a prophet. I flipped the little booklet close, deciding that it was probably up to Sherlock and John if it was OK that we read through these.
"I have the rest on my computer, I can print it off for you," He suggested.
"That would be great," I said. He quickly printed off the documents and handed them to me.
"These have everything you've ever written from the show?" Dean asked.
"Yes. Though, I'd prefer if you didn't read it in front of me. You might think I'm crazy," Moffat said.
"No, this is exactly what we were looking for Mr. Moffat. Thank you," I smiled.
"Unless it's absolutely necessary, can you keep my name private?" Moffat asked as he guided us to the front door.
"Of course," Dean said. We said goodbye, then left the house. I immediately looked for the TARDIS. When it wasn't there, I wondered why the Doctor had left.
"We need to bring this to Sherlock and John before we look at it," I told Dean as he tried to grab the scripts from my hands.
"Why?" He asked.
"It's their past, present and future, remember how we felt when we found out that Supernatural was a book?" I said.
"They don't have to know."
"No, Dean. Even if it wasn't them, the Doctor is the one who should decide whether or not we read anyone's future," I explained.
Dean rolled his eyes then started the car, "Can we take a peek?"
"I'm just as curious as you are, Dean," I said, keeping my hand over the pages so that he couldn't get at them.
"Then you should understand how I feel," Dean said. I really did want to know, but I also knew that we shouldn't be looking at anyone's future. "It could give us a lead on Moriarty. This is our one good oppertunity and we need to take it."
I don't actually remember saying anything, but I must have said something because Dean said, "Good," and snatched the papers from my grasp.
Dean cleared his throat, picked a random page, and started reading, "The Doctor steps out of the TARDIS which had just appeared in the middle of the flat. Sherlock is unfazed but John comes running.
'Hello. Where's Amy and Rory?' The Doctor asks, poking his head out of the TARDIS.
'Amy just went out to the Speedy's downstairs,' John says.
'I need her,' The Doctor says in urgency. He gets out of the TARDIS and runs down to the shop.
'I wonder if something's wrong,' John wondered aloud. Sherlock responds with, mmm.
Rory enters the room. 'Did the Doctor just come in?'
John looks up at him. 'Yes. He was just looking for your wife.'
Rory says, 'Did you tell him where she was?'
John replies, 'I did. He's gone to get her.'
The Doctor comes back up, he is panicking, 'Amy isn't there.'
'Are you sure she didn't just go for a walk?' Rory asks. He's clearly trying to fight back the panic.
'No, look,' The Doctor hands Rory the note. Rory's jaw drops.
'Let me see,' Sherlock demands. Sherlock grabs the note from Rory and reads it.
The note reads:
Dearest John Watson, Sam and Dean Winchester, Rory Williams, Sherlock Holmes and last but not least, Doctor.
If you ever want to see Amelia Pond again, come and find her. You have 12 hours before she will be killed."
"We shouldn't have read that," I said, grabbing the papers back, knowing that we had just made a huge mistake.
"What did I just read?" Dean said, his voice shaking.
"We do not tell John, we don't tell Sherlock, we don't tell the Doctor and we don't tell Amy or Rory." I said, trying to calm down.
"Deal," Dean said and started driving.
We had arrived at Baker Street just a few minutes before Sam and Dean had finished. The TARDIS was now parked just outside 221B so that we would have more space in the flat, especially now that we had 3 guests. Well, 2, since I assumed the Doctor would be sleeping in the TARDIS. But it was still nice to have the extra space.
After quite a while of sitting in the bushes, hiding in the TARDIS, the Doctor got bored so we came back here. As we were leaving we watched Sam and Dean come out of Steven Moffat's. So they wouldn't have been far behind us.
We were all gathered, watching Doctor Who on our tiny little TV. Sherlock and I were sitting in our chairs, Amy and Rory were on the floor (though Rory didn't look happy about it) and the Doctor stood and glared at the telly from across the room.
From what we'd seen from the show, it started just after the Time War when the Doctor's planet was destroyed. That's what the Doctor had told us. We watched the Pilot episode with Rose Tyler, who looked sort of familiar, but I didn't say that out loud in case it upset the Doctor. The Doctor explained that the reason we didn't remember the events from the show is because of the crack in time and space that was eating away at our memories of it until there was nothing left.
I tried to remember, and it did sort of sound familiar. Again, it wasn't the adventures that were bugging me, it was the TARDIS and Gallifrey. Maybe I had seen this show before, but the crack had eaten the memories away. That had to be it.
The Doctor didn't want us to go through his every adventure and his entire history, so he showed us episodes that could have been important. First off there was the Daleks, then the Cybermen, then the Weeping Angels and finally the Silence, which was my personal favourite. The episodes were watched quickly since he didn't want us to see every little detail. We'd gone through about 5 by the time Sam and Dean came back.
They came into the flat as pale as ghosts, I stood up when I saw them come in, "What's wrong?" I asked.
"Moffat is a prophet. He doesn't just write for the Doctor. He writes for you too," Sam said, trying to keep calm, as he handed me the script for a show called Sherlock.
"A show… about him?" I asked and took the script. Sure enough it had mine and Sherlock's first meeting in there word for word.
"Moffat started to make it a show before his scripts actually started happening. He knows something isn't right," Sam explained.
"Does it have the future?" The Doctor asked, lunging for the script.
"Don't go through mine and Sherlock's life please," I said, looking over as Sam and Dean, "You didn't, did you?"
"Yes," Dean said, "And no."
The Doctor immediately started tearing the papers apart until they were shreds, then quickly gathered them and put them in our fire pit. He pointed his sonic screwdriver at it and a small flame was produced.
"What the hell was that?" Dean yelled.
"We can't have anyone reading the future!" The Doctor replied.
"Jut because we read it doesn't mean it had to happen!"
"Yes it does! As soon as you read it, it's a fixed point in time, you can't avoid it!"
"Well if you're so smart then go back in time and fix it!"
"What's read can't be unread! No matter what I do, you will always have read that."
"Spoilers."
-River Song, Doctor Who