Lost

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“Well,” the Doctor began. “We uh…lost an alien, I guess.”

“Lost one?”

The Doctor pouted. “Wasn’t my fault.”

River rolled her eyes. “We’re here to bring it back to our dimension.”

“And who are you to say that?”

“I’m the Doctor.” The Doctor interjected. “It’s my job.”

Sherlock didn’t reply, and changed the topic. “And how do you suggest we do this?”

“Well you’re a local. You’re up to date. It’s like when that Slitheen was around – hiding as the mayor of Cardiff or something. And the Master….” He trailed off. “Anyway, we need you. And your expertise.”

Sherlock looked away. “Find someone else. By your description, anyone who’s lived here for the past few years would do.”

“Oh yes, but where’s the fun in that? Plus, we might need that brain of yours.”

Sherlock looked back at him. “I have other cases.”

“No you don’t,” the Doctor laughed.

Sherlock frowned. “My services aren’t cheap.”

The Doctor grinned and leant forward, his eyes piercing Sherlock’s. “I can promise you an adventure of a lifetime.”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed again, gazing back unblinkingly, searching the Doctor’s, and, satisfied with what he found there, leant back. “I’m in.”

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