Miracle in a TARDIS Part II
“I still don’t understand why we can’t just leave him here?” John asked.
“Because this isn’t his time stream.” The Doctor replied working on repairing his TARDIS. “If we just leave it could cause a rift in time causing a huge mess that I would be in charge of fixing. Might as well nip the problem in the bud.”
“And we can’t just kill him here?” Sherlock asked, agitated. He then winced as John poked briefly at a bruise. John muttered a sorry and went back to assessing Sherlock’s wounds. Sherlock looked back at the Doctor “Why do we have to bring him back?”
“Again: Not his time stream. Would cause time rift.” The Doctor plugged to cords in together and the TARDIS gave a noise like a groan. “Ah there she is. Almost good as new. Now if only people would stop shooting guns off in my TARDIS.”
John gave a small chuckle. Of the three of them, John was one taking it in stride. “That happen often?”
“Once. The girl was trying to see if I was lying…later she became my wife.” The Doctor seemed to zone out and then realized his companions were watching him strangely. “Long story…not really the time to go into it. Now…” The Doctor pulled up an image on what looked like a telly. “Lucky for us the TARDIS landed in an alleyway, so it should remain inconspicuous.”
“Yes because a blue police box can always remain inconspicuous.” Sherlock said sarcastically.
John sighed. “Look, we don’t know where he went-“
“Oh well I wouldn’t say that.” Sherlock started up. “He was obviously injured in by a rebounding bullet from the way he was holding his arm. We can just follow the blood trail…”
“As long as you’re well enough to walk.” John began but trailed off as Sherlock stood and began making shaky steps towards the door. He only collapsed once and the Doctor was there to right him again.
“I’m fine.” Sherlock mumbled before taking a few stronger steps toward the door and eventually made his way into the alleyway. “He turned left down the street.”
Sherlock looked back at his companions, especially at John. “Well… come on then, I would like to be back home soon.”
John smiled. “Me too.”
Soon, the Doctor, the Consulting Detective, and the Army Doctor made their way into the night.
They alleyway they had landed in was near Waterloo Bridge and so the path they followed took them down what John recognized as the Strand. The gas lamps gave off an eerie glow in the dead of night. John guessed that the hour must have been late as the streets were empty except for the scattered homeless vagabonds and the drunks stumbling home. The blood drops stopped flowing by the time they passed what used to be Scotland Yard.
Or rather what is Scotland Yard, John supposed.
There the blood drops got smaller, then disappeared altogether. “Either the wound was just a graze and now clotted over, or he found something to bandage it with.” Sherlock deduced. “Given the size of the drops earlier it’s the latter.”
“So what now?” John asked.
The Doctor frowned. “Something’s not right.”
Sherlock nodded. “Agreed. If he did find something to bandage up the wound, it would have taken time, and we should have spotted him if he started to run again.”
“So then he’s hid---“ John’s words were cut off as a gunshot went off and he felt a staggering pain in his right arm. John let out a shout and Sherlock ran to him.
“John!” Sherlock tacked John to the ground, jarring his arm in the process. John whipped out his gun and reached around Sherlock to aim blindly at where the shot came from. Before he could fire a returning round there came a shout from nearby.
“What’s going on? Who is firing?”
Light from a lantern began to get closer. There was a rustle from the bushes across the street and a dark figure jumped out and ran back towards the river. The Doctor made to run after him but by then the figure ran down the street into a maze of alleyways.
“Is everyone alright?” The voice continued to get closer, but was still a few streets down.
The Doctor returned to Sherlock and John. Sherlock kneeled over his comrade and placed hand over the wound. “You’re ok John. It’s just a graze. Lucky for us the ricocheted bullet hit his dominate hand. His aim was off.”
John offered a weak grin. “I know Sherlock. It’s ok. It’s just a little painful.”
Sherlock turned on the Doctor. “You’re a Doctor! Do something.”
“I’m not that kind of doctor!” The Doctor exclaimed. “I’m the Doctor. Not the kind of doctor that can help but the kind of Doctor that is absolutely useless in situations like this!”
“I’m a doctor.” The new voice helpfully said. The three companions turned to look at their new arrival. The man was younger than them, but already had a moustache that threatened to take over his facial features.
A true handle bar mustache, John thought.
The Doctor took out a strange piece of paper in a leather case. “We’re just visitors you see. Just got into a small skirmish.”
The man peered at the paper then looked down at John. “It doesn’t look too bad.”
John nodded. “I know. I’m a doctor. Probably just needs to be cleaned out.”
“Well then please come back to my place. I have another room you can rest in for the night if you can’t make it back to your inn.”
The Doctor smiled. “If you would be so kind.”
The man nodded and went to the corner to hail a taxi. “Can’t we just go back to the TARDIS? What if he returns there and tries to leave?” Sherlock asked, once again agitated now that John was injured as well.
The Doctor shook his head. “She’s locked up for the night and can handle herself …besides…” The Doctor looked briefly at their helper. “What better way to learn about a new world than ask an insider.”
“It’s London!” Sherlock exclaimed. “I can maneuver its streets with my eyes closed.”
John gave a grin at the memory of a whirlwind chase throughout the streets of London chasing a cab. Had that really been three years ago?
Again the Doctor shook his head. “You know early 21st century London. We are now in Victorian London.” The Doctor gave a mysterious smile. “We might as well be in a whole new world.”
John laid a hand on Sherlock’s arm. “He’s right Sherlock. We might get better results if we just see where this takes us.” John didn’t know if it was the touch to the arm or his words but Sherlock seemed pacified.
The man turned around once he had hailed a horse drawn cab. “Are we ready?”
John stood up and nodded. “Yes. Thank you so much for your hospitality Dr…?”
“Ah forgive me for my lack of manners. My name is Doctor Arthur Conan Doyle. Please call me Arthur.”
Arthur’s extra room ended up being little bigger than a modest walk in closet, but it had a bed and John was aching to lie down and take a short nap. He sat down gratefully on the bed and watched as the door opened cautiously as Sherlock walked in with a bowl of clean water and a clean cloth.
Suddenly, John became very nervous. In all the confusion and running around, it came to John suddenly that Sherlock was actually alive and standing in front of him. After eighteen long months, John finally got a good look at his not dead friend.
Sherlock’s normally thin face was now gaunt and though his pale frame was covered by his usual clothes and coat (a replacement, John surmised, as the original was on the coat hook at 221B), it was obvious that Sherlock’s eating habits have worsened over the last year and a half. Thin and pale with dark circles under his eyes, Sherlock appeared to be a man close to death, but then John looked Sherlock in the eyes and found a spark there that told John that the taller man was very much alive and ready to take on the world.
That spark made John’s eyes well up, remembering the haunted empty look those eyes held the last time he was able to look at them clearly.
Thinking that John’s tears mean he was in pain, Sherlock kneeled next to the bed. “Are you ok? Is it deeper than we thought? John, say some-“ Sherlock’s worried words were cut off as a punch landed squarely in the jaw.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were alive, Sherlock?” John’s words were angry but his tears were now over flowing. “Do you know what you did to me?”
Sherlock had recovered from the punch. “Well, that was a little bit of a delayed reaction.” Another punch landed on chest though this one was much weaker as John began to shake.
“Shut up! You idiot, h-how could you?” John was sobbing now.
Cautiously, incase John wasn’t quite done with the punching; Sherlock reached out and laid a hand on John’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, John, but in order for Moriarty’s plan to fail I had to die. And they would only believe it was true if you believed it.”
“What plan?” John wiped at his eyes. “Why did you have to jump?”
Sherlock suddenly found the ground quite interesting. “Because he had snipers trained on the people I cared about. If I didn’t jump, those snipers would have killed Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, and…you.” Sherlock’s face had started to take on a pink hue. “Moran was the last piece in the puzzle. He was Moriarty’s second in command and he was the sniper trained on you….” Sherlock trailed off, the pink hue getting darker. “I was hoping to take him down swiftly and then return home to Baker Street…provided I still can.”
John looked at the taller man curiously. Then he drew Sherlock into a hug. “Of course you can, you idiot. Don’t ever do that again.”
Sherlock seemed stunned and unsure of what to do with his arms. Cautiously he laid a hand on John’s upper and lower back and pulled him closer. “John I-“
A sudden noise made them jump back but not break their hug. The Doctor barged in. “Well! Thanks to Arthur downstairs we seem to know where this Moran character went off too…” the Doctor trailed off as he noticed John’s tearstained face and Sherlock’s pink one. “Oh…now we’re doing the emotion thing… I’ll come back later…” The Doctor left as quickly as he came in and shut the door behind him.
John chuckled. Sherlock gave small nervous smile. “Let’s clean out that wound and bandage it before it get’s any worse. Then we can go see what he wanted.”
John assented. “But Sherlock?”
Sherlock turned around from where he was dipping the cloth in the water. “Yes?”
“We’re not done talking about this. But we’ll put it on hold till we catch Moran.”
Sherlock laid the damp cloth on John’s wound. “Agreed.”
“From what the boys loitering outside explained, the man you are looking for took off for the Thames. Seems that he is confused about his surroundings.” Arthur explained. “He’s currently sleeping under the Waterloo bridge.”
“Probably waiting for us to return. He knows we’ll have to eventually.” Sherlock surmised.
The Doctor nodded. “It’s probably best if we lure him back on to the TARDIS to subdue him and take him back to his own time.”
“TARDIS?” Arthur questioned.
“Uh. It’s complicated.” John attempted to explain. Arthur seemed to take that explanation.
“How do we sneak up on him though?” Sherlock continued.
The Doctor shrugged. “You are the life-risking detective.”
Sherlock rolled his eyes and continued to think. The Doctor also settled back and took on a thinking pose.
“What about - ?” John began to question but was cut off.
“Shh. No talking brain thinking.” The Doctor and Sherlock said at the same time. They looked at each other before resuming their thinking positions as if nothing happened.
John just rolled his eyes. Only a time traveling alien could be as weird as Sherlock.
Suddenly they two brilliant men jumped up at the same time. Both opened their mouths to speak before glaring at each other. Both thought their plan was better before hearing the other’s.
Again John rolled his eyes. It was going to be a long night.
After hearing both the Doctor’s and Sherlock’s plan, which turned out to be very similar, they bid good night to their host, who had taken their insanity in stride.
Watching them leave, Arthur was stuck with the idea of writing down this brief adventure. Stories about a detective and his doctor. That might be a story worth telling.
As soon as the thought came it vanished. After all, who would be interested in such an insane tale?
John really wasn’t surprised when the plan didn’t work. He wasn’t surprised at all. After all, they were trying to sneak up on a trained assassin. A trained, armed assassin.
Of course the Doctor’s disastrous tumble down the riverbank didn’t really help matters.
The Doctor recovered quickly enough but Moran had already been alerted to their movements and immediately began firing.
Sherlock tried to cover John with his body, only to find John attempting to cover Sherlock.
The Doctor noted that the two looked rather ridiculous as they bodily argued over who was protecting whom, but figured that mentioning it while getting shot at wasn’t the best plan.
The army doctor and the detective got themselves sorted out and took cover near a pile of washed up debris.
The Doctor joined them. “Well, that didn’t go so well.”
Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Now what?”
John noticed that Moran had stopped shooting. He figured the assassin was saving bullets, not knowing when he would be able to get a new cartridge. “Why is he shooting as us to begin with? There’s no way to understand how to work that TARDIS on his own.”
“He probably figures he just needs the key.” Sherlock replied.
“Well…she definably wouldn’t like that.” The Doctor smirked at his own comment.
John had noticed that the Doctor talked about his time machine as if it were a person, but decided not to comment on it. He supposed that years of traveling made one fond of their mode of transportation.
“Well, you have it. Can’t you just open the TARDIS and lure him inside that way?” John suggested. “Then Sherlock and I will come up behind him and subdue him.”
“Yeah just one problem with that.” The Doctor held up a piece of wood in the air above their shelter and a shot rang out and pierced the wood, tearing it out of the Doctor’s hand. “I don’t particularly enjoy getting shot at. Despite recent events, it’s not really a hobby of mine.”
Now John rolled his eyes. “Well we can’t wait till he runs out of ammo.” He nodded towards the lightening skyline. “People are going to be up and about within hours. We can’t have him disappearing into the crowd.”
Sherlock nodded. “True. We’ll have to get him to use his ammo.” With that Sherlock jumped out of the shelter and ran rapidly towards Moran.
“SHERLOCK!” John screamed and ran after him. Two shots rang out, but neither hit him. Worriedly he glanced towards Sherlock, but found him also unharmed.
John caught up with Sherlock and stood in front of him, shielding the taller man with his own body. “Are you insane?!”
Sherlock wrapped his long arms around John. “He’s out of bullets.”
John waited but did not hear another shot. “How on earth could you have known those last two were the last ones?”
“I was counting. I recognized the gun make and model and knew how many bullets it held. When he had held me to his chest before I felt where he kept his extra magazine cartridges and how many he kept on him. It was just a matter of keeping track of the number of bullets fired.”
John laid his hands over Sherlock’s. “You’re brilliant.”
“Um excuse me, nice moment and all, but no I’m afraid he’s running towards us.” The Doctor pointed to the unarmed but probably still lethal man that was now, indeed, running towards them.
Sherlock held up a small shiny object. “Looking for this?” he shouted to the enraged man.
The Doctor gaped at him. “How on earth did you get that?”
“Pick pocketed it. You were being annoying.” Sherlock answered simply. Then he took off in the direction of the TARDIS. Moran followed closely.
“That’s it. I’m definably changing the pocket I keep that in.” The Doctor mumbled before he and John gave chase.
Sherlock made it quickly to the TARDIS and found it easy to unlock. He went inside and waited. Moran closely followed behind while The Doctor and John brought up the rear and closed the door. Moran’s attention was held steadily on the key and so didn’t notice when John tackled the small man to the ground.
“Now, Doctor!”
The Doctor sprung into action and began hand pulling levers and twisting dials as fast as he could. Soon John heard the familiar noise.
Woo~oosh Woo~oosh!
The man beneath him struggled until he finally managed to throw John off of him when the TARDIS jerked.
John was thrown back and tried to recover but another jerk threw him off balance and Moran managed to get behind him and put him in a hold.
By the position of Moran’s hands on his head, John knew that a quick snap of Moran’s hands could break his neck. He glanced at Sherlock and found the same understanding in Sherlock’s eyes.
With John in hand, Moran backed up towards the doors of the TARDIS.
“You’re going to let me go. Maybe I won’t break his neck as I leave.” Moran threatened.
Sherlock took a step forward but stopped when Moran tightened his grip. John found that it was getting hard to breathe.
“Maybe we can talk about this.” The Doctor tried to reason.
Moran backed himself all the way so his back was right against the door. “No talking, this is the deal.”
Suddenly, the door to the TARDIS flew open on it’s own accord. John felt it before Moran did and so had time to brace himself.
Moran’s grip on him fell away as the assassin tried to regain his balance grabbing on to anything within reach, including John’s jumper.
Sherlock raced forward and grabbed John around the middle jerking him inside and out of Moran’s hold.
Moran lost his balance and slipped out of the TARDIS. Their last sight of him was his shoe descending out of view.
The TARDIS door swung shut again.
“That was a very dangerous plan Doctor. Moran could have easily grabbed John and we would have lost him too.” Sherlock yelled.
The Doctor raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “It wasn’t me Sherlock. The TARDIS did that all by herself.”
Sherlock just shook his head and hugged John closer.
John laid his hand reverently on the door frame. “Thank you.”
Woo~oosh Woo~oosh! the TARDIS answered.
They landed in 221B Baker Street. The detective and the army doctor insisted that the Doctor stay the night.
The Doctor chose not to mention that he had his own room on the TARDIS when he realized that he would be taking John’s room.
Which meant that Sherlock and John would be sharing Sherlock’s bedroom.
So instead of protesting the unneeded hospitality, he bid the army doctor and consulting detective good night and climbed the stairs to John’s room.
Downstairs John and Sherlock looked at each other awkwardly. As the stress and adrenaline wore down from chasing Moran through 19th century London, the shock of seeing each other again finally began to take hold.
John laid a hand on Sherlock’s face and rubbed his thumb against the prominent cheekbone. “So…back home then”
“Yes. Very astute John.”
“Sherlock, I know you’re tired and probably want to go to bed but…” John looked away, moving his hand as he did so. “I just need you to promise me something…”
Sherlock nodded. “Anything, John.”
“You promise that you’ll still be here in the morning?”
“Unless you rather me be elsewhere…?”
“Not funny, Sherlock,” John huffed, “This whole day has been surreal, how will it’s not some sort of elaborate dream. Please Sherlock, I can’t deal with the feeling that you’re back only to have to dead in the morning all over again.”
“John…” Sherlock trailed off as he raised his hand to cup John’s neck. He gently tilted John’s face up. “John, I promise that this isn’t a dream. When you awake in the morning I will still be here.”
John leaned in a little closer. “Promise me something else?” Seeing Sherlock give a tiny nod in consent he continued. “Promise me that if some other idiot forces you to make a decision that affects both of our lives that you’ll try to talk to me about it first. I need to know that you trust me Sherlock. Because while I understand what you did, it might take just a little bit longer for me to trust you completely again.”
Sherlock tilted his head closer and briefly touched his lips to John’s. “John, if it was ever a choice between your life or mine, I would gladly choose the former because the latter isn’t worth much.”
John pressed his lips to Sherlock’s a little firmer before pulling away, “You idiot. Don’t say that, your life is so much more precious.” He raised his hand to cradle Sherlock’s face again and pressed their lips together in a firm but chaste kiss.
It was a bit longer before they broke away. Sherlock leaned his forehead against John’s. “That’s ok. I’m pretty sure the only life changing decision we’ll have to make is whether or not to retire to Sussex to raise bees.”
John laughed and pulled away. He turned to look at Sherlock’s bedroom door. “You’re room’s been kept the same. I haven’t touched anything… couldn’t really.” John took his hand away from Sherlock’s face and Sherlock resisted reaching out and keeping John’s hand where it was. John huffed out an embarrassed laugh. “Well. You look exhausted. Pop off to bed. I’ll sleep out here on the sofa.”
“Nonsense John. The sofa is unsuitable to sleep on. Good for thinking, bad for sleeping. Your shoulder will ache in the morning.” Sherlock opened the door to his room and found that though things hadn’t been moved, his things have been kept clean and dusted; the work of either John or Mrs. Hudson. He turned back to John and held his hand out. “My bed is large enough for two people.” He left the implication open ended. He noticed John’s blush and rolled his eyes. “Honestly John, just to sleep. Besides, after such a long absence of each other, I think we could just some time just…cuddling.”
John giggled. “Never thought I’d hear you say that.”
Sherlock rolled his eyes again and stalked off into his room, muttering something John could barely hear. “Never had anyone to say it to before…”
John only smiled fondly and followed Sherlock into the room and shut the door.
The next morning, John awoke to find himself entangled within Sherlock’s arms and legs. Apparently Sherlock had turned into an octopus in the middle of the night. John manages to untangle himself and turned around.
Sherlock was still peacefully sleeping. John thought it was just as well, as he was sure Sherlock didn’t get much sleep while he was traveling.
The army doctor kissed the detectives forehead before climbing out of bed and eventually making his way downstairs. As he reached the landing, he realized that it had been just over 24 hours since his adventure with the Doctor had started.
The Doctor himself was sitting at the kitchen table reading a newspaper. Mrs. Hudson was fluttering about.
“Oh John, you didn’t tell me you would be having company.” Mrs. Hudson handed the Doctor breakfast. “Must be nice to have someone around after Sherlock’s…well…” she trailed off. “Though I’m concerned over you’re new decoration…is that a police box?” She gestured towards the TARDIS.
“Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. I won’t be staying long.” The Doctor replied, as he started picking at the breakfast she handed him, unsure of what he would like. “Besides, life is full of miracles and surprises. Sherlock just may turn up again one day.”
Mrs. Hudson chuckled nervously. “You say such strange things.”
“Actually Mrs. Hudson, in this case what he is saying is not so strange.” A deep baritone voice called out and John turned to see Sherlock appearing out of his room in his dressing gown.
Mrs. Hudson gave a small shout and fainted. The Doctor glanced over at her. “Well…that’s not good is it?"
After John checked their landlady over for a concussion, Sherlock explained what he had previously told John.
Mrs. Hudson didn’t understand all of it, but she did see how John and Sherlock looked at each other now, and she smiled.
She retired to her own flat to get some rest, (on doctor’s orders, John’s, not the Doctor’s) and the Doctor picked up the paper he had been reading. “Here, thought you two might be interested in this.”
It wasn’t the front page, but instead in a small section towards the back of the paper the headline read, “Mysterious body found drowned in Thames, ruled accidental drawing by coroner.”
The story had little else to tell.
Sherlock gave a little smirk and John wrapped his arms around him. “It’s over then, right?” John asked.
“Yes,” Sherlock replied and turned to John smiling fondly. “It’s really over.”
The Doctor only looked at the two and grinned. “Well, I guess my job here is done then.”
John and Sherlock broke away from each other’s gaze. “You’re leaving? Already?” John asked.
The Doctor nodded. “Can’t stay I’m afraid. I have to be off to see the universe. But I’m sure London is now in good hands.” He turned to go.
“Doctor! Wait.” Sherlock walked up to the Doctor. “John accepted me coming back from the dead. I’m sure your friends will too.”
The Doctor didn’t questions Sherlock’s knowledge of his own sadness and fear, but instead just grinned. “I suppose it’s worth a shot. But perhaps first I’ll visit my old friend Churchill.”
“Winston Churchill?!” John exclaimed.
The Doctor grinned and snapped his fingers. The TARDIS door swung open and the Doctor stepped inside and turned around. “Goodbye. Maybe we’ll meet again. Not really sure yet, time travel and all that.”
John smiled. “The whole universe to explore? You won’t be back to see boring old us.”
Sherlock turned around. “We are anything but boring.”
The Doctor smiled. “You are extraordinary.” He shut the door and soon John and Sherlock heard the now familiar and comforting noise.
Woo~oosh! Woo~oosh!
Epilogue
They never forgot their adventure with the Doctor. Who could forget that?
Slowly, they revealed to the world Sherlock’s resurrection. After Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft, who John had been shocked to learn had not known about Sherlock’s faked death, they brought into their confidence Lestrade.
Lestrade also landed a blow on Sherlock, but eventually forgave him and turned out that Lestrade had been gathering evidence of Sherlock’s innocence, including past cases that Sherlock consulted on and witnesses who testified that the detective couldn’t have possibly orchestrated their cases as they were cold cases and had happened years ago when Sherlock would have been a teen. Eventually Lestrade gathered enough evidence to exonerate Sherlock and even handed him a new case.
The case of the mysterious body that had turned up in the Thames. Supposedly the body had drowned but the victim, Sebastian Moran, had last been seen in Morocco just hours before washing up on the banks of the Thames River.
Sherlock knew that even if he told Lestrade the truth, no one but John would believe him.
That was a secret between himself, John, and the time traveling Doctor.