only one// doctor who fic
i posted this a while back on my other account, but thought i would share it on this blog!
I just remembered that this blog existed. Oops.
Part One of my Sherlock/Doctor Who crossover fic!
It’s a little short, and the updates won’t be regular, but I hope you like it!
The Doctor and the blue box that travelled the universe and time with his companions.
He was bound to meet a certain consulting detective one day.
It was rather an unusual meeting, certainly an unexpected one. It had been a long time since The Doctor had visited London in the 21st century, and he missed it; he missed that same aroma and the bustling and yells of humans. He missed the strange things that went on in the city and meeting the brilliant, brilliant people that occupied the place.
Not that he didn’t have Amy, of course. She was sitting with Rory underneath the glass floor of the console, murmuring something to him that was barely audible to The Doctor. Not like he cared what they were discussing. Probably husband-y wife-y stuff. Stuff that he wouldn’t understand.
“London! England! Earth!” The Doctor exclaimed as he pulled one leaver and poked his head over the space where Rory and Amy were hiding. “You coming? You could always stay, you know, get fit in the swimming pool, always available…”
Amy jumped up, making her way to the door as she called, “London? Of all the universe, you choose London?”
“Hey,” Rory chimed, following after her naturally. “I’ve always wanted to go to London.”
“Good man, Rory,” The Doctor said, patting him on the back as he walked past. “That’s the TARDIS spirit.”
Amy rolled her eyes and she pushed open the TARDIS doors and sniffed the typical London air. A little more… polluted, she would say. The landscape was beautiful, however; green grass, the London Eye, the river Thames, pretty much everything she had seen in the pictures as a young girl. She couldn’t deny the fact that she always wanted to visit London.
“Where do you want to go, then?” The Doctor asked. “We can go have a spin on the good ol’ Eye or go visit Buckingham? Mind you, I met the Queen once; the kitchens make rather glorious biscuits…”
“You know, I wouldn’t mind visiting 221b Baker Street,” Amy said, spinning round to face The Doctor and Rory. “I used to love Sherlock Holmes as a kid. And the museum sounds pretty good, can we go, pretty please?”
The Doctor chuckled. “I didn’t know you were a fan of Sherlock Holmes. Alright then.”
It was a very big surprise indeed that 221b Baker Street was not a museum, but an ordinary flat. The only tourists about were looking for restaurants on the other end of the street. Nobody seemed to find it peculiar that 221b Baker Street was not a major tourist attraction, or a museum, or one of the most famous addresses in the world.
It was just… a flat.
“This… doesn’t make sense,” The Doctor said, running a hand through his hair and frowning at the black door that had the golden letters of 221b placed upon it. “This doesn’t make sense at all. I’ve certainly never come across this before, definitely not, not in my nine hundered years of existing…”
“Oh, shut up, save your Time Lord theories for later,” Amy said, a little irritated, and knocked on the door harshly, expecting some sort of answer. Nothing. Knocking again, and again, nobody came and opened the door, and Rory and The Doctor were perfectly content on turning around and heading off back to the TARDIS.
Just before they could snatch up the opportunity a rather distinct ahem sounded from behind them, and they turned around to see a rather tall, grown man with the curliest black hair, the strangest shade of eye colour and a long billowing coat accompanied with a blue scarf standing just beside the taxi that had pulled up. Behind him stood a shorter, yet older man with very dirty blonde hair who wore a black and white jumper, peering from behind the taller man’s shoulder in interest.
“Sherlock Holmes.” The taller gentleman said. “This is my acquaintance Dr John Watson. How may I help you?”
I wrote this last night and it’s a bit depressing and cliche but I liked the turn out so here it is.
He was strong.
The definition of strong is a varied one. Many associate the word ‘strong’ with sports and fitness and muscles – there are a lot of strong boys out there. Boys who can lift weights and flex their muscles in front of girls, making them swoon simultaneously. There are many strong athletes out there, ones who can run for miles and ones who can throw a shot-put over 70m.
‘He was strong’ is a sentence that cannot be defined on the spot. Strong can also mean emotionally.>
There aren’t many strong people out there in the world.
People are very strange. Being hurled insults at and bullied verbally and physically is something that one never wants to suffer; but if you don’t want to suffer, why do you want other people to? If you approach a bully and politely ask them why they take such a negative approach to their victims, many of them will not know the answer. Some of them will, but will refuse to tell you. Jealously? That always seems a suitable conclusion. When a mother tells their child that they are being teased because the bully is jealous, there is always some sort of satisfaction the child feels. Because knowing that you are superior personality-wise always boosts a person’s confidence.
But when I said ‘he is strong’ I do not mean the physical type. That can be a topic for another day, for he was no strong physically at all, but emotionally strong is what I am referring to.
I’d like you to imagine this: having such a lovely, supportive family that will do their best to fulfil your dreams. Attending an academically good school and getting marks that are above average for your age. The picture sounds fine, so far. But then imagine you leaving your class for break time and suddenly being pushed up against a wall in a remote area of the school and being spat abusive words at. Imagine having your school bag taken away from you and emptied of all valuables and money, including your Oyster card that you get on the bus with. Imagine being punched in the stomach repeatedly and having a tooth chipped in the process. Imagine words, insults being thrown at you, never-ending.
And when you go to your next class you have to pretend everything’s fine.
When you get home you have to report back to your parents that nothing too terrible happened at school.
And you can’t tell a soul about this, because if you do you’re going to have to run far away, away from the people who you told on, just to save yourself from being beaten to death.
No matter how miserable and heart-breaking his life is, he doesn’t want to die.
And when he’s in the bath, finally free from pain and torture and all alone for once, he hurts himself.
This is the kind of pain he likes. The kind of pain that does not hurt in the way that pain at his school does. He liked slitting his wrists and leaving scars that he has to hide for days. He knows he must not do it, but he does. Some people say it is an addiction. Perhaps it is, for him.
And after years of the same cycle of agony he begins to realize that his life is going to go nowhere. That maybe isn’t worth it. Maybe, just maybe, his existence is pointless. Nobody would mind if he had disappeared off the face of the planet.
It wouldn’t matter.
So on a Tuesday night he attempts suicide.
He wakes up in a hospital with his family sitting by his bedside, sobbing uncontrollably, and the happiness that lit up in their faces when they saw he was alive was heart-breaking.
And he started crying. For the first time in years the boy who attempted suicide started crying.
Because he was worth it.
The people who hurt him were not.
And he explained everything, poured out his heart to the people he loved most dearly, and the understood, took action, finally.
Once he was out of hospital he learnt his lesson. He learnt that killing yourself is never an option. Because even if it had not been found, there is always, always something to live for.
He lived a good life after that phase of heartache.
So, hi!
Umm, I’ll post some stuff up tomorrow since I need to go, but umm yeah hope you like this blog even though I haven’t done anything to it okay bye!
