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.


10. The Great Escape.

'Doctor!' Sherlock shook The Doctor's shoulders as Holmes cut his hands and feet free of the rope. 'Come on, wake up!' 

The Doctor's head lolled, his hair flopping over his creased forehead as he squinted. He began to lean to his right, and stuck his arm out a second too late, landing on the cold floor with the chair almost clattering behind him, if it wasn't for Holmes' quick reactions. 

'Quiet. He'll hear you,' Holmes muttered in dismay at the splayed figure on the floor. 

'Who will hear me?' The Doctor's voice came loud and clear from the floor in his post-unconscious state, unable to comprehend the danger that they could be in. 

'I will,' Moriarty's sing-song rung through the warehouse as he ran his hands along the lid of the box of knives. 'Silly, silly Sherlocks. You really think i'd be alone in here? You think I'd give you the benefit of the doubt, after all this time?' 

Holmes stood up straight, storing the pocket knife in his pocket safely. There was a click, and hundreds of gas lights were lit, exposing the three men to the sheer size of the room they were in. The lights were hanging 20 feet above them on wires, and on the same levels as those wires were platforms. On those platforms, staring menacingly at them, were men dressed all in black, holding various weapons of different sizes; guns, knives, swords... The list could be endless, and notably not as long as it could have  been. Both Holmes' were looking around, searching for escape routes, counting the men near the exits, as well as how many were in the same vicinity as Moriarty, who had walked up a set of stairs. He's got the advantage, Sherlock thought at exactly the same time as Holmes. 

Meanwhile, the Doctor had reached into his coat pocket, feeling around for his sonic screwdriver. Luckily Moriarty's men were focused on Sherlock and Holmes, as he reached out and pressed the button, aiming at the switch for the lights. It went dark, and the yells of the men could be heard, as well as their footsteps on the platforms overhead. It was near enough pitch dark, and suddenly The Doctor heard a massive THUD and a groan about five feet to his right. He cowered to his left, knocking into Holmes, who gripped onto him and pulled him towards what he expected was an exit. 

'You won't escape me, Holmes!' Moriarty yelled from dangerously close behind them. The Doctor cringed, and felt something blunt hit his head. He cried out, falling back into Moriarty's arms and out of Holmes'. 

'Doctor!' Sherlock shouted, but before he could react, Holmes sent a strike out. Once, twice, three times... His fist came into contact with nothing but thin air. Holmes swore, much to Sherlock's surprise. It was then that he realised how different they were; the shorter, much more rugged looking man with his neatly cut stubble and his sweat-stained shirt was such a contrast to his own height and cleanly cut demeanour that it confused him. 

'Sherlock,' Holmes warned breathlessly, throwing out another punch into the darkness. 'Help.' 

That was a similarity. Sherlock would never ask for help unless it was entirely necessary. He checked himself and tried to switch off his mind, instead reacting to instinct and pushing through the darkness that enveloped him and lashing out with his arms and legs in abandon that looked almost primitive beside Holmes's skills. His foot came into contact with something, though, even if it did feel like a dead weight only inches from the ground. A gasp came from in front of him, near Holmes. Suddenly, the lights flickered back to life, and Holmes was stood over a crumpled Moriarty, who was laying on an unconscious Doctor. The Doctor was inches away from Sherlock's foot, and he felt a pang of guilt when he saw the bruises forming on his cheek. 

Holmes was looking around, counting the men that were still up and able to move. There were bodies strewn across the floor, black masses with weapons beside them, almost as misplaced as the men themselves. Something wasn't right. 

Sherlock saw it first. Just out of the corner of his eye, a slight movement. An involuntary twitch of the muscles, or maybe an itch. The latter would require the body to be conscious and have the ability to be aware of such annoyances. He glanced over at Holmes, who had moved towards the Doctor, picking up the sonic screwdriver and going to put it back in the inside pocket of the Doctor's jacket. 

'Wait,' Sherlock muttered under his breath, just so the other man could hear him. 'We might still need that.' 

He gestured towards the black-clad man with the twitching foot, and suddenly Holmes noticed it too. Then they both noticed it. It wasn't just that one man twitching; they were all twitching. Every single one of them. The ones who were awake crumbled to the floor, arms and legs spasming wildly. Then a leg kicked Sherlock's, and he looked down and saw the Doctor rolling onto his front, then back, kicking legs and waving arms that struck the floor with sickening cracks. 

'We need to wake him up,' Holmes shouted over the noise of limbs cracking on concrete. 'Now!' 

They both knelt down, pinning the Doctor down with them. The shook him, slapped him... Whatever they did, nothing could wake him. then an idea dawned on Sherlock. 

'The screwdriver.' 

'The what?' Holmes enquired, his eyebrows arching in a way not unlike Sherlock's own. 

'The... The pen shaped thing. With the green light on it. Give it to me,' he was unsure of how to explain alien technology to someone who had no idea about electricity yet. 

Holmes fumbled with the sonic screwdriver for a moment before it made its way into Sherlock's clammy hands. It took a few tries before he managed it, but he found the button that was halfway along the length of the device. He pointed it at the Doctor and pressed the button, and, for the first time ever, Sherlock Holmes prayed. 

The spasming stopped. 

The shuffling started. 

Feet on concrete, steps towards the men crouched down, and a blow to Sherlock's shoulder that knocked him away from the Doctor. Moriarty stood above him, grinning maliciously. 

'You thought you could escape me, Holmes?' He directed his question to the man of the time, and not the stranger, younger, more modern Sherlock. 'You really thought you could do it?' 

'No,' Holmes smiled calmly. 


'No. I did,' came a voice from behind Moriarty. Sherlock slid the sonic screwdriver across the floor towards the Doctor, who grabbed it and stood up. 'Hello, Moriarty. I don't think we've been properly introduced. I'm the Doctor.' 

'Doctor?' Moriarty began, looking the Doctor up and down. 'Doctor wh-.' 

And that was when the bullet from John Watson the First's gun hit James Moriarty in the back. 



'Are you sure you won't be staying any longer?' John Watson asked the Doctor as the two Sherlock Holmes' discussed deduction methods whilst leaning against the newly-repaired TARDIS. 

'No, not at all. We have a situation back in our time that we should really get sorted.' 

'What a shame. I do hope to see you again, I think this is the first time that I've seen Sherlock be so engaged in a conversation,' John smiled and shook the Doctor's hand firmly. 

Sherlock took a last look at Holmes before gripping his hand. 'It was lovely talking to you, Mr Holmes.' 

'And you too, Mr Holmes,' Holmes grinned, and the pair laughed, sharing a joke that only they would fully understand. 

Sherlock walked back to the TARDIS where the Doctor was standing, and strode inside without another word on the size of the inside. 

'Let's go!' The Doctor practically skipped, happy to be fully conscious and rid of all injuries, thanks to a small amount of regeneration energy. As the TARDIS flung them into all matter of time and space, in all corners of every universe, someone somewhere could hear a distant cry of 'Geronimo!' 

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