Upon arriving at the Saint Valentine Church of Christ, John entered and was met with at most thirty people lining for food. He found the vicar, serving a couple a ladle of stew in their bowls. They passed John, discussing tonight's cold weather. When the vicar sat the ladle down, he glanced up and stared at John for a minute before he asked, "May I help you?"

"I'm looking for information, regarding the purported tall man," John explained. The vicar tilted his head in confusion. John chewed on his lips, "I'm working on a case."

"Oh, you mean the one found dead in Bones Alley," the vicar looked at him. John nodded. The vicar served a plate of macaroni and cheese to a man, "There are some people who could help."

John scoured until he found the people that the vicar said could help with the tall man. They sat around the table, playing craps. John cleared his throat. Eyes were on him, he bowed his head as he stood near the table. "Hello, I was hoping to talk to you," he said politely to them. The elderly woman blinked before nodding, "Oh course, come sit with us, Floyd's losing anyway."

"Says you, Pat," responded Floyd. Pat smiled at John, "What can we do for you?"

They sat around the table, playing craps. John cleared his throat. Eyes were on him, he bowed his head as he stood near the table. "Hello, I was hoping to talk to you," he said politely to them. The elderly woman blinked before nodding, "Oh course, come sit with us, Floyd's losing anyway."

"Says you, Pat," responded Floyd. Pat smiled at John, "What can we do for you?"

"Oh, I was wandering if you'd be able to tell me about the tall man who goes around wearing a plague doctor costume," John smiled back. Floyd cleared his throat; the man beside him shook his head. Pat frowned, "Are you one of those people that make up stories?"

"Why would I make up stories?" John asked her. Floyd responded instead. "People like to make stories about people. However, this man you are talking about is not a spirit—a demon—or anything like that. He's a man with a warm heart, even if he does wear that costume," he said as he shuffled the cards. John nodded and asked, "If he's real—then why does everyone else seem to think otherwise?"

"Because, he only comes out at night," Pat explains. Floyd nods. "Yeah, he doesn't come out in the day," he adds. John cleared his throat and asked, "If he's real then you'd be able to tell me where I can find him, yes?"

"He doesn't talk, love," Pat touched John's shoulder lightly. Floyd nods again. "He doesn't, we've tried to talk to him and the entire sort, but he never responds," he sighs as he sat a card down. John blinked before asking, "Then do you know where he goes?"

"Why are we talking to you? What good are you?" Floyd snorts. John sighs before lying in a matter that could rival Sherlock, "I'm working on something."

"Wait a minute," Floyd pointed at him suddenly. "He looks familiar."

"He does," Pat nodded. John smiled. "Well, my name's John Watson," he introduced himself.

Pat snapped her fingers as she pondered before exclaiming, "He works for Sherlock!"

"Does he now?" Floyd eyed John. Pat smiled, "Yes, he works for Sherlock. I told you, oh I told you!"

"Woman," Floyd shook his head before looking at John. "Please forgive her, she's been keen on Sherlock—thinkin' he be about in our neck of the woods," he told him. John crossed his arms. "Then have you heard about the murder that took place late last night?" he asked the two. They looked at each other before Pat replied. "Oh yes, but what does that have to do with us?"

"We're trying to figure out who killed him, and any help is appreciated," John explained to her as Floyd doled out the cards to the table. "He didn't kill him if that's what you're wandering," Floyd eyed John as he sat a card down. John shook his head. "Why would I think that?" he asked. Floyd shrugged his shoulder. "Simple response to things, I guess," he said adamantly. John chewed on his bottom lip, an idea came to mind. It was apparent that Pat was a huge fan of Sherlock and getting to meet him in person would probably help their chances, it couldn't hurt. "Tell you what, if you can help me meet him, you can meet Sherlock in person after the case is solved, gentleman's honor" John said boldly. Pat looked at the others as they sat in their seats uneasy. "He's rather shy around new people," Pat said to him. John nodded. "I understand that, but it'd just be me, no one else," he assured her.

"He comes around usually at midnight and stays out until four in the morning," Floyd explained to John. John nodded as he quickly rummaged through his pocket for his notepad and wrote the times down. Pat continued, "He comes to the South Alley where we huddle if we can't get into the churches for the night, you can find it if you go through any of the alleyways. He usually buys things for others and comes to us into the alley to hand out supplies."

"He'll usually leave after a little before four, but if it's been a cold night like it has been for the past week, he stays with us until the sun is over the horizon," Floyd added. John quickly wrote everything said down, he looked up and they continued. "He also stays with us if there have been problems with the drunkards or unruly youths," Pat explained as she sat a card down. "He walks about after he comes through the alley, usually to check up on things. He comes back afterward," Floyd added. John nods as he wrote it down. "He's rather fond of ravens," Pat said. Floyd nodded. "Yeah, sometimes a couple flies down into the alley just to perch on his shoulder. The damnedest thing is that Sherwood never had ravens with amber eyes until he showed up," he added. John looked up to them confused.

"I think of them as his eyes and ears," Pat said after she placed her card down on the table. "He shows up after they do—at least at night that is."

"Right, so hypothetically speaking, it's possible to find him in the day if I were to follow the ravens?" John asked. They laughed. "No, no, the ravens won't lead you to him. I think they're brighter than some of the people here. They know people by face and usually if they're following someone, it's because of reasons," Floyd chuckled. John tilted his head in confusion. "What reasons would there be?" he asked. Floyd shrugged. Pat giggled and said, "Maybe he's just curious as you are. I did mention it to him the other night that he should meet Sherlock one day. Just for old times' sake, really."

"Right," John wrote down everything he could imagine on the notepad. He finished and tucked it away and held out his hand. He shook their hands and departed. Pat reminding him as he headed to the door their agreement, he gritted his teeth as he pulled out his phone. He quickly texted what he learned and at the end of it, he added the arrangement he made. Sherlock was more or less pleased with the outcome and agreed to meet the homeless after their peculiar case was settled. John then asked about Sherlock's attempts at finding Clare and the man who was known simply as Doctor, he didn't respond initially which meant that he wasn't having any luck.

Night set in and the fog slowly rolled in. The clouds blanketed the moon, leaving the streetlights and signs to be the source of light. Tonight the weather was tame; it wasn't as cold as the other night and felt much more pleasant. John strolled along the sidewalk, glancing around; he stopped when he noticed the office building where he spoke with the accountant and remembered that the alleyway linked to the main alley. He walked through the narrow alleyway, with trashcans lining the walls and dumpsters with the tops open. Continuing until he eventually found the alley, he was met with sides of the walls lining with homeless. A fire was set in a barrel with several circling it, with murmurs amongst themselves. Sherlock moved toward the barrel and cleared his throat. He stopped and looked around, before asking them, "So, our dear friend, where is he?"

"He's making his rounds, I'm sure of," Pat smiled as she held her hands up near the fire. "He's probably at the convenience store, usually he's getting supplies and whatnot from it," Floyd added. John nodded and looked up to the skies with no break in the thick clouds. He swore he saw black specks flying around and presumed them to be the ravens that have been noted. His assumptions were right when a speck flew down to the side of the wall and glowed in the light casted off from the fire. The raven's amber eyes moved around the alley until they met John's and the raven began to caw into the distant. John followed the raven's eyes toward the end of the alley and he narrowed his eyes. He turned his head briefly as the raven flew off and seemingly disappeared. The sound of bags jangling in the breeze made John assume that the tall man had appeared. However, he was disappointed when it was some homeless who had bags of food, and elated expressions on their face. They carried their bags to their spots and shared some of the food with the people around them, happily talking amongst themselves. John chewed on his bottom lip and looked at Pat. "Is it possible for him to know I'm here?" he asked her. Pat pondered. "I suppose. I'm sure he'll come around," she said. John stood and impatiently waited, he glanced up to the clouds that slowly broke apart, revealing the full moon and flying across it a large black speck

He assumed that the ravens tipped the tall man off and that he might not come. He was about to simply call it a night when he heard footsteps coming from the end of the alley. They were heavy and sounded metallic, a sure sign someone was wearing steel toes. The footsteps were getting closer and John eyed from afar, seeing someone taller than even Sherlock approaching, his hat slightly moving in the breeze. He held plastic bags and voices overlapped as he handed them off to those who clamored around him. The fire rose up suddenly, showering the Plague Doctor with light, revealing his hollow eyes glistening and the bronze mask illuminating. John found that he himself was taking a step back, unusual even for him, but the tall man's eyes met with his and he felt a cold chill down his neck. His height alone didn't help either, he was tall and lean and towered over John so much he had to strain his neck just to look up at him. Pat and Floyd clamored to the man, smiling as they explained to him that John wanted to meet him. Floyd glanced over to John. "We usually just refer him as the doctor man," he explained to him. The Plague Doctor's hand rose up and he pointed at John. Pat nodded and looked over to John. "He's a good man, don't fret," she told him, as if to comfort him. John nodded and cleared his throat.

He stood in front of the man and bowed his head. "My name is John Watson," he introduced himself, holding his hand out. The Plague Doctor didn't exchange a handshake but slightly bowed his head. John gritted his teeth slightly as he tried to formulate words. He managed to as he asked, "Someone was murdered and it was stated that you were around the time they were alive."

What happened next, made John question himself.

A raven flew down and perched itself on the right shoulder of the Plague Doctor. The amber eyes lit up and something peculiar happened. "Assist…tant," John heard. He thought it was the man speaking, but upon further inspection, it was the raven that spoke. "Assist…tant," the raven chirped. John stared at the Plague Doctor. "The assistant from the antique store, you mean?" he asked. The raven replied, "…yes."

"How do you know?" John eyed the raven. The raven fluttered its wings, "…followed."

"Where from," John pressed. The raven shook its head. "…the…antique… store," it said.

John nodded and looked at the Plague Doctor. "To where after," John persisted. The raven cawed at him, annoyed at his constant requests. The Plague Doctor raised his hand the raven returned to answering on his behalf. "…to… the… river…front," it said.

"Show me," John demanded. The Plague Doctor nodded and turned. John was led out of the alley toward the main streets. He struggled to keep up with the Plague Doctor, for someone as tall as him who walked slowly he was much faster than Sherlock. The Plague Doctor led him until they came toward the shores of the riverfront that was closest to the bridge. He pointed to the underside of the bridge. John followed where he was pointing and found an expensive suitcase. Upon opening it, there were papers strewn inside, all with the same details. The assistant was trying to save the antique store and attempted to talk things out with Jim. However, Jim wasn't keen on helping him. Then the damning piece of information came to light when John raised a piece of paper to his eyes, a paper with details that would've taken the antique store without the owner knowing. John pieced together what happened; the assistant followed Jim and tried to reason. Jim wouldn't and presumably gloated how he would take the antique store and its entire entirety without the owner's intervention. The assistant became belligerent and with a gun he acquired by illegal means, shot Jim in the alleyway and dumped his briefcase under the bridge. With that, John had his answers.

The Plague Doctor glimpsed off into the distant, as if spotting something. The raven followed his gaze and took flight, climbing height until unable to be seen by even the moon. The Plague Doctor looked back at John and studied him. John studied him in return. Whenever he tilted his head, so did the Plague Doctor. They stared at each other until the raven came back, cawing urgently. A man yelling in the distant sent the raven to soar into the air, cawing down to the Plague Doctor. John turned his head to see two people running up the riverfront, a woman and an older man. When he glanced back, the Plague Doctor disappeared. "I saw him go this way!" said Clara as she had her hands over her knees, trying to catch her breath. "Ravens, why did it have to be ravens," said the Doctor as he tried to catch his breath as well. John stared at them, bemused. The Doctor rubbed his brows and pointed at Clara. "We'll have to do something about the ravens," he said. John, curious, walked up to them. "Why are you after him?" he asked them. The Doctor scoffed and pointed, "I should ask the same. Bloody hell, why are you here?"

"I was solving a case," John told him. Clara looked at him unceasingly, "Did he… say anything to you?"

"Just the ravens," John mentioned. The Doctor stepped in front of him and stared at him directly, "Why were you following him?"

"He was leading me to the evidence," John explained. The Doctor shook his head and rubbed his head, "Clara, we have to try another night."

"Of course, Doctor," Clara nodded. John looked at them, "Will someone please tell me what is going on here?"

"What is going on here?" the Doctor looked at John with his brows furrowed. John crossed his arms, "I have had a very rough day as is."

"Oh, you had a rough day?" the Doctor challenged him. "Bad enough Sherlock's been stalking about looking for us."

John stopped. He blinked, "You were suspects in a case!"

"I never murdered anyone!" the Doctor pointed at himself. John shook his head, "Then why didn't you just bloody talk with Sherlock and clear it up!"

"Because we don't have time to talk about someone getting shot!" the Doctor looked into his eyes. John threw up his arms, "That bloody doesn't make sense!"

Clara stood between them, keeping them separate from each other. "Doctor, it's only fair he should know what's going on," she told him. The Doctor sighed and stared at the ground for a moment before he looked up at John and rubbed his eyes, "Fine. I suppose I can tell you what's been happening."

Before the Doctor could even speak, they all heard footsteps coming toward them. John looked and there running after them, was Sherlock. John heard his name and closed his eyes briefly, just hoping this was all a dream and he was at home with Mary. However, as he opened his eyes, it wasn't the case. There standing before them, was Sherlock who tugged on his coat. The Doctor stared at him and he did the same, Clara raised her hands up and almost screamed, "Can we please talk things over like proper gentlemen?"

"He's a dangerous machine," the Doctor looked at Sherlock. Clara looked at the Doctor urgently. "Is there no way to find him, Doctor?" she asked him. The Doctor groaned as he rubbed his brow. "No, he's a tricky one," he sighed. Sherlock stared at them, confused. "What is going on?" he demanded. The Doctor sighed and shook his head before saying, "It's beyond even you, I'm afraid."

"Oh is it?" Sherlock asked sarcastically. The Doctor rolled his eyes. "You may be the great Sherlock Holmes, but even you can't comprehend what is going on," he explained. Sherlock crossed his arms. "Who is he and why are you hunting him?" he asked the Doctor. John nodded, "For once I agree with Sherlock!"

"Gentlemen..!" Clara stared at them. The Doctor gritted his teeth, he didn't want to but he knew he had no choice but to. After all, if he didn't these two would get themselves hurt or worse. "Come with us, we'll have to go back to the TARDIS anyway," the Doctor motioned with his hand for Sherlock and John to follow him and Clara. Sherlock quickly sent a text to Lestrade, explaining to him that the case has been solved and the evidence needed is to be picked up by the bridge. John looking at Sherlock as Sherlock stared at the Doctor. "What is going on, Sherlock?" John asked him. Sherlock gritted his teeth, "Who knows, John?"

Clara explained as they headed from the riverfront toward another part of the town about the reasoning for their appearance. A man was murdered while on patrol. There was no weapon and the man had no known enemies. Clara and the Doctor were investigating primarily because of the fact that during his last communications with his home base, there were ravens that were following him around prior to his death.

John couldn't believe her. Neither he nor Sherlock ever heard of another man murdered much less one where the victim was followed by the ravens. Sherlock himself didn't know what to believe in anymore. It was all very confusing with what was going on.

The Doctor hushed them and points to a peculiar object. It was a standard police box, abet it was blue instead of the standard red. John crossed his arms; he then saw how it was peculiarly in the wrong spot for a police box. Even more, he was surprised that a police box was even still in service. Sherlock then remembered the missing police box at the junkyard and was in awe that it was here and now. He gazed at the Doctor who stepped in front of the door and fumbled into his pockets, he muttered under his breath until he brought out a key. As he opened the door, he looked to Clara with a look on his face and said, "Still smells horrible."

Clara sighed as she followed the Doctor inside. "It's Midnight's Kiss!" she corrected him, referring to a perfume scent. Sherlock and John slowly entered the TARDIS and were amazed at the sight. John was sure it was all a dream, it must have been. Sherlock found himself studying every inch of the interior, attempting to identify whatever he was looking at. "It's a time machine," Clara said to them. They both stopped. They glanced at her. "A what?" their brows raised. "It's a TARDIS," the Doctor told them. It was explained to them that it was an acronym for Time and Relative Dimension in Space. John crossed his arms, "It's a time machine?"

"That's not possible," Sherlock shook his head.

The Doctor scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Acting like a Scully isn't going to help your case. You're in a time machine, what more proof do you bloody want?" he said as he went to the controls.