Sherlock and the Time Lords (BBC Sherlock/Doctor Who Crossover)

Before John came, Sherlock had met two people. Two aliens, to be exact. One male, one female. What happens when their worlds meet? Only time will tell.


5. Chapter 4

One month later.. .

Sherlock peered down at the victim, studying it through his deductions. “Triple murder, you say?” Sherlock asked Lestrade.

“Yeah,” Lestrade sighed, “we actually have a suspect in.”

“Really?” Sherlock looked at him surprised. He then realised something, and frowned at the DI. “Who brought him in?”

“. . .Anderson and Donovan.”

“Innocent.” Sherlock said immediately, cringing. “If Anderson and Donovan are involved, they obviously got it wrong.” Before they could talk more, Sherlock's phone started to ring. “Excuse me.” he muttered, grabbing his phone out while walking away. Sherlock's eyes visibly brightened, and immediately answered the call. “Layla?”

“Hey!” came Layla's cheery voice. “How are you?”

“Fine.” Sherlock shrugged, peering over his shoulder at the dead victim and the DI. “On a case, actually.”

“Does it happen to be a triple murder?”

“How did you know?” Sherlock frowned.

“Time traveller, duh.”

“Of course.” he chuckled. “So, who's the murderer?”

“Spoilers!” she replied in a sing-song voice. They both laughed quietly, when Doctor's muffled voice came from Layla's side. “I got to go. I just called to tell you that we're going to pick you up later than usual. Like, an hour later.”

“Oh, okay.” Sherlock frowned, slightly disappointed. He loved travelling with the new alien friends. They looked out for him, and they were all intelligent, the aliens slightly more with the universe and the stars. Layla and Sherlock obviously became close, calling each other almost twice a day. This was their second phone call that day. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah! Doctor and I are just a bit caught up in something personal.”

“Okay.” he said reluctantly. “So I'll see you later?”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world.” came her reply. Sherlock chuckled at her optimism, saying goodbye before hanging up.


“Is it done?”

“Yeah.” Layla replied gravely. She turned to her brother. “Do we have to do this? Again?”

“Layla,” Doctor looked at her seriously, “do you want Sherlock to be safe?”

“Of course.” she responded immediately.

“Good.” he nodded, revealing two pocket watches. “Because we don't have that much time.”


One week later. . .

She bustled in the busy London streets, dodging people along the way, her scarf trailing behind her. In her arms held her messenger bag, full of important stuff for her job. At one point, she barely dodged a man with his coffee, making him yell profanities at her retreating figure. “Sorry!” she called back at him. She finally reached the abandoned building, and easily went inside after showing her ID to the policemen in the area.

“Ah, just in time, Miss Smith.” Lestrade greeted her, giving her a small hug.

“Anything for you, Greg.” she said with a small smile. “So! Is my brother here yet?”

“I'm here!” came John's voice, himself entering the building with a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I had some errands to do quickly.” John turned to his sister. “Layla! Nice to see you again after you ditched me this morning.”

“Sorry John,” Layla laughed, giving him a hug along with a kiss on the cheek, “I was excited for the day like usual.”

“Or a certain someone.” Lestrade said through a fake cough. John and Lestrade laughed, while Layla glared at them playfully.

“It is not!” she retorted. “Why would I be excited to see Sherlock?”

“We didn't say Sherlock until you did.” John smirked. Before Layla could reply with a witty comment, a certain baritone voice came from the entry.

“Heard my name.”

“Sherlock! Hey!” Layla squeaked out, ignoring the other two's snickers. “Didn't notice you were there.”

“Hm, obviously.” Sherlock murmured, walking towards them, sending some glares at certain police people on the way. He placed a polite kiss on her cheek, unaware of her blush or the other's grins, and made his way to the dead victim. “So, Miss Smith. Did you and your brother examine the body yet?”

“Ah, no.” the siblings grimaced, heading to the body immediately.

“We just got here, actually.” John said. The siblings crouched down next to Sherlock on either side. “So, sister dear, what have you got?”

“Blow to the head to knock him out,” she said instantly, studying him, “ligature marks on his wrists clearly, mouth gagged.”

“Murder was the slit on the throat.” John said. The two siblings glanced at each other through Sherlock, saying at the same time, “Obviously.”

“Now, Mister Holmes,” Layla smirked, “what's this poor sod's life story?” Sherlock didn't respond, staring ahead of him with a sad look on his face. “Sherlock?”

“Hmm?” Sherlock snapped out of his thoughts. “Sorry – what were you saying?”

“What do you have on the man?” Layla asked him, looking at him concerned. Sherlock going deep in thought was completely normal, but Sherlock thinking with a sad look on his face? That's something she wasn't used to. Selfish, obnoxious, smart and polite Sherlock? Layla can manage. Sad Sherlock? Something she rarely sees. She remembers the day her and John were found by Sherlock.



Layla?. . .Layla!. . .Come on Layla, wake up. . .” She opened her eyes slowly, instantly met with blue-green eyes, concern written all over his face. “Layla!” the man breath out in relief. “Are you okay?”

“Who – where am I?” she mumbled. “W-who are you? How come I can't remember anything except my name and brother John?” Panic overcame her. “Where's John?”

A look of pain flashed through the man's face, before it was replaced with a reassuring smile. “I'm Sherlock.” he introduced. “Your brother, John, he's over there on the other side of this alleyway.” Layla peered over his shoulder, and saw her brother leaning against the opposite wall, looking tired and weak. “You two looked like you two could need some food in your system.”

“W-what? Why?” she frowned, ignoring his hands on her face, examining her.

“You two haven't eaten in days.” he told her. “You and your brother are homeless.”

“W-we are?” she frowned. “How come I can't remember?”

“It seems you two have been out for a while.” Sherlock mumbled. He looked at her curiously. “You really can't remember anything?”

“Nothing.” she admitted. Sherlock said nothing, and instead stood up, offering a hand to her.

“Come on,” he said, helping her up, “I'll take you and your brother to my flat to get better.”

“Thanks.” she smiled. After that, Sherlock took them under his wing, making them healthy again, while also getting close to them, creating a bond.

Flashback over


“Can't you just ask the people who have the information on the man officially?” Sherlock said, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“I trust you more than the police.” she admitted, tucking some loose hair behind her ear.

“Really?” Sherlock looked at her curiously. “Why?”

“You took my brother and I under your wing.” she said. “I trust you with my life.” Sherlock smiled at her sadly, before looking back at the victim.

“Male, early thirties. . .” he started, making her subconsciously smile and listen to him intently.

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