Every Consulting Criminal Needs A Companion (Wholock)

The Name Of The Soldier

The Soldier found himself alone, finally, still sitting on that little metal bed. At least Molly had found him something to wear. She'd also left upon request so that he'd have privacy to change. He quickly dressed. Too bad she couldn't recover my scarf too. Either they really had taken it for investigation or she'd just lied to him and thrown it away. It really was too bad; that was his favorite scarf.

Now that he was proper (excuse the messy hair,) he jumped down from the table and decided to explore while he thought to himself. He was occupied with Sherlock.

How clever. I'm glad he faked his death. It would've been awful to lose a good toy. Cute little humans. He always had a bit of a reaction when they died. Not crying; definetly not crying, but a pange of sentiment. Of course it was funny to kill himself and let them think they'd won. He might even go as far as to say he felt happy about it, but that was strange when you're talking about your own death, right? Well, he couldn't die, so what did it matter?

Sherlock was different. He hadn't killed himself for Sherlock. He'd killed himself because of Sherlock. Because that stupid bloke couldn't just jump off of a building to save his friends. And his more-than-friends. The Soldier did have fun setting people up. Plus he hadn't meant for Sherlock to die in the first place. Unfortunately, he didn't get to intertain himself with this thought long because a screeching, almost painful whoop-whoop noise sounded behind him, next to the door of the hallway.

The Soldier whipped around, delight clear in his eyes. He ran forward and stood against the table near the big, blue police box, acting calm despite how he was actually feeling. The door creaked open, and the small black-haired girl from before was leading a bewildered Ashley out of the box.

"Soldier?!" she cried, running forward and hugging him. The other girl giggled and disappeared backwards into the police box. "I thought you were dead!"

"I thought I told you I was an alien, Ashley."

"That doesn't make you invincible," she scoffed.

"Actually, the opposite. I'm immortal."

"Whatever," she retorted, rollling her eyes. She took his hand, leading him inside the time machine. "Have you seen this!? It's bigger on the inside!!" she exclaimed, absolutely in awe of this. The Soldier was not so surprised. He wasn't surprised at all, actualy.

"Yes, I've seen it before," he replied, shrugging it off. He then added, "This is a real TARDIS, Ashley."

"What's a TARDIS?" she asked.

"Time And Relative Demension In Space," he explained. "They can travel to any planet at any time. With a bit of power, they can travel to pocket universes, too."

"Power?"

"Yeah, you have to feed them... human souls!" he teased. She was looking moritfied, just staring up at the controls. "Just kidding. They feed on time rifts or time energy." She was not amused by his jokeing mannor.

"Doctor?" she called. The Doctor and Clara emerged from behind the consul, ending their discussion.

"Yes, Ashley?" he asked.

"Can we go back, me and Soldier?" she asked. The Soldier chuckled a little at her question. Leaving so soon? he thought he could hear himself ask her; thankfully, he didn't. The Doctor glanced between them, watching the Soldier especially guiltily.

"Sure, Ashley," he lied. The Soldier could hear the painful crack in his voice, but no one else could or at least seemed to care. Ashley even smiled.

"Thanks, Doctor!" She offered an arm to the Soldier, but he wandered towards the controls instead where the Doctor was typing away on the touch-screen board.