The Great Escape.

A Sherlock/Doctor Who crossover fanfiction set after the Reichenbach Fall. Doctor John Watson can't bare to live without his best friend, and Sherlock and the Doctor set out to stop John before he does something reckless.

Written by Chloe Smith and Becky Webber.


8. John Watson the Second.


'Doctor, what do we do?' Sherlock asked as The Doctor turned on his heels, walking briskly back to the TARDIS. Sherlock cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. 'What are you doing?' 

'You left the door open!' 

'That must start to get tedious, Doctor. Don't you want it automated?' Sherlock huffed. He couldn't see the reason for the travelling man to have to follow strangers around, closing doors and mopping up spilt tea after them if he could get the technology to save himself the trouble.

'I don't want to. It makes me feel more...,' he paused, glancing back down the street to where the man was only slightly visible. 'Human.' 

The two men stood there for approximately five seconds, the shorter one rubbing his hands together as if he were about to delve into a large slice of chocolate cake, the taller one following the glint of the man's silver-topped cane with an eagerness that he had not felt since his feigned death. That was until they both took off at the same time. The sharp air sliced at the skin that was left bare, and the pair suddenly realised just how cold it was in 1891 London. So that was why Unimportant was wearing his lovely blue scarf, the Doctor thought with a smirk as he quickened his pace to keep up with Sherlock, who was used to running beside a trained army doctor. 

Sherlock reached the man only seconds before the Doctor; his hair tousled and his face red.

'I've not run like that since...,' he paused, clearing his throat and taking in a mouthful of cold air. Of course he hadn't run anywhere, he'd not had a reason to leave the house. He directed his attention to the man, who had stopped and was turning slowly to face them. 'I don't think we've been properly introduced. My name is Sherlock Holmes, and you are?'

The man in the hat, Unimportant, hesitated for a moment as he studied the two men. He glanced at his shoes. It took a while, but finally he looked up and said 'My name is Doctor John Watson, friend of Sherlock Holmes, and I really think you should join me.'

With that, John Watson turned away, walking briskly. He knew that the two men were too interested to walk away from such a discovery. The Doctor tugged on Sherlock's sleeve subtly, and leant forward to whisper in his ear.

'Sherlock, we can't do this, it could alter time and do something terrible!'

'Doesn't everything have its risks, Doctor?' Sherlock's voice was quiet, but cut through the icy air like a knife. 'If you were so paranoid about altering time, why do you travel around so much?'

'Because if I went home, nothing would ever be the same,' the Doctor replied, glowering ahead of him.

'Well, we're in the same boat.'

The Doctor said nothing, and Sherlock smirked at the silence. He focused on the newly found John, and slowly realised his features. The way this man stood, with his back straight and shoulders tensed, reminded him of his best friend in such an unlikely way that made him feel uneasy. His head was held high, the hat on his head a deep shade of blue, made a deeper hue by the gentle fog that was appearing in the near horizon. The angle of this John's chin was slightly more acute, emphasising his cheekbones when the light hits them, casting hauntingly attractive shadows across his softly arched nose and frowning forehead. His left hand gripped the cane tightly within his leather glove. Strange, Sherlock thought. John is right handed. 

They followed John down a narrow alley to their right, that stank of remains of God-knows-what from God-knows-when, making their noses twitch and their heads spin. The Doctor and Sherlock walked shoulder to shoulder, pressing against each other, trying their best to avoid rubbing against the walls of the buildings on either side, as well as stepping in whatever was lying in the gutters beside them. The Doctor tripped on something that he hoped wasn't a human body, and knocked Sherlock towards a wall. He stuck his hand out against the wood and grimaced when it slid, obviously covered in a mixture of things, judging by its texture. 

Suddenly, John stopped, halting just by a door. It was mostly obscured by the darkness, but the handle glinted gently in the gaslit street nearby. 

'We're here, gentlemen.' 

The Doctor took in a breath and said 'This doesn't look like 221B Baker Street...' 

And that was when everything went black. 

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