Doctor Who One Shots and Crossovers!

A Blue Box on Baker Street (Doctor Who/Sherlock Crossover Part 1)

221B Baker Street was quiet, apart from the gentle tapping noises of fingers on a keyboard. Both of the occupants were home. Sherlock lay on the sofa in his dressing gown, absent mindedly twisting a pen between his fingers, and staring at the ceiling, contemplating the tediousness of existence. Life was great if there were exciting cases to investigate...if not, well, what was the point? Today was one of those days when there were not.

He listened to John's furious typing. Blogging again, thought the Detective with an internal sigh. At that precise moment, gentle knocking on the door sounded, as Mrs Hudson tried to get their attention.

"It's open." John said, not looking up from his blog.

The landlady twisted the handle and opened the door, saying, "There's someone here to see you." She stepped forward into the room, taking in John's furious typing and Sherlock's dressing gowned slump. "You might want to get dressed, Sherlock. It seems like he has a nice case for you."

Sat in their respective chairs a few minutes later were Sherlock (begrudgingly clothed in his usual suit, after John had insisted on "not repeating the Buckingham Palace ordeal"), John, and the strangest man either of them had ever seen. And that was really saying something. The strange man was tall, with floppy brown hair and an eccentric fashion sense, consisting of a red bow tie and tweed jacket.

"I'm the Doctor!" He introduced himself. Sherlock was a little surprised. Though his deductions had found a fair amount of information, he hadn't thought this man to be doctor.

"What are you a Doctor of?" He asked, not showing his slight surprise.

"Well...that's a good question. Not many people ask me that. It's usually Doctor Who?" he mused. "I suppose I'm a Doctor of rescues, running, timey-wimey stuff, and bow ties. Among other things."

"Timey-Wimey Stuff?" Said Sherlock, with more than a hint of scepticism.

"Exactly." The Doctor ignored the disbelief in the Detective's voice. Sherlock looked for a second like he was about to say something else, but changed his mind at the last second.

"What's your case?" He said instead, leaning back in his chair.

"Well, it's about my friends. Amy and Rory Pond. Well, he says Williams, but we all know it's really Pond......"

"Oh, spare us the details of your friend's marriage, just tell us the case." Sherlock interrupted, shortly.

The Doctor nodded, seemingly unsurprised at the detective's reaction. So he knows of me somewhat more than most. Sherlock made a mental note of this detail, and then listened to the Doctor's explanation.

"You see, I was coming to see my friends. We travel together. And....I...." He trailed off, shaking his head in confusion to dislodge the brain fog.

"Go on." Prompted John, who had his notebook situated on his lap, his pen poised over it. He didn't really know why he bothered, apart from the fact the notes were useful for his blogs.

"Yes, so I was coming to pick them up, and they were gone. Their house looked like it hadn't been touched in weeks, and yet I left them.....actually I don't remember when I last left them." He paused again, straining his memory. The effort looked like it caused him physical pain, or maybe it was the fear that his memory had failed him for the second time in as many minutes. He chuckled nervously. "Getting older, dodgy memory." He laughed again, though he obviously found nothing about this situation particularly funny.

Sherlock processed this strange comment. From his face, the man must be no older than 30, so what did he mean? Was there more to him, and his age, than met the eye? Or was there something else going on in his head?

"So, in summary. Friends gone, expected them to be there, house untouched in weeks, but no record of where they went."

"Why didn't you just go to the police?" Asked John, unsure of why this seemingly simple missing person's case was being put before Sherlock instead of the police.

"Well." The Doctor said, awkwardly pausing in an attempt to decide how to phrase what he meant to say. "Well, you see. We travel together, and errrr....." This was going to be a complex one. Explaining to people that he actually travelled through Time and Space, and he didn't quite know where on the timeline these events sat for the rest of the world, and that it was quite probable that the last Amy and Rory's closest friends saw of them was them disappearing with him, and would assume whatever had happened to them was his fault, though it wasn't in this case. So realistically, going to the police never ended well for him. But how to say that to the world's greatest detective?

Sherlock, who had seemed to be in a world of his own for the last few minutes, stood up. He obviously had been listening, because he now said: "We'll take the case. You can explain your connection and travels with these people on the way to their house." With that he strode to the door and pulled on his signature coat and scarf. John couldn't quite fathom what interest Sherlock saw in this case; why he hadn't just dismissed it as dull, or not worth his time. Then again, John couldn't fathom most of the things Sherlock said and did.

"It may take longer than a trip to Leadworth to explain that." The Doctor muttered under his breath, in private answer to Sherlock's statement. "A few hundred years longer."

*******

The street seemed quiet and normal for a Thursday morning. All of the morning commuters were, by now, at their places of work. All of the children were at school. The only people on the streets were a few people running errands or walking their dogs (plus Sherlock, John and the Doctor). There was nothing out of place. Well..that wasn't quite true. The only thing out of place was a Blue Box marked "Police" sitting in a quiet and unnoticeable side street.

"That box wasn't there yesterday!" Said John.

"Remarkable observation." Sherlock replied, and you could almost hear the eye roll.

The Doctor led them up to the box, gesturing to its dark blue doors. "This way."

"You want us to go in there?" Asked John, gesturing to the doors in incredulity and confusion.

"Absolutely." The Doctor stood next to the door looking expectant. "This might be a bit of a surprise." He said. "Try not to be too shell-shocked."

"I'm never shell shocked." Sherlock stepped forward, pushing the doors open to reveal the space within. Both his and John's jaws dropped simultaneously at what they saw, and the Doctor gave them a knowing smile. There was something extremely satisfying and unique about making the world's greatest detective look like that.

Thank you so much for reading this, I really hope it wasn't too bad. Hopefully I'll be able to get part two out soon! Please vote and comment if you enjoyed, and have a great day :)