Every Consulting Criminal Needs A Companion (Wholock)

The Stolen John

The Soldier had begun planning, sipping a cup of coffee. He stared down at his phone, thinking about texting Ashley. Instead, he called his favorite client.

"Jim Moriarty speaking," he greeted as he picked up. "Don't be so blind, Sebby. I'm still alive," he sighed into the phone. "That's a, um, minor detail. I-ah-faked my death! Sure! That's what normal people do, isn't it? ... Yes, I do have a job for you. ... I need to cause some trouble for me. ... Oh, some kind of murder or something. Nothing too serious. Maybe kidnap John and put him in the cupboard. ... Yes, in the cupboard. ... What do you mean you don't have a cupboard? ... Fine, put him... in a metal chair or something. ... No! You are not allowed to maim him!" That last part earned him some strange looks. "Okay. Fine. One cut. If he's too injured for our meeting later, you're going to be in big trouble. ... Good, my little Sebby. Goodbye." He hung up and texted Ashley.

I'm in your cafe. Where are you? He sent the message. He quickly got a text back.

Mom thought I was crazy when I told her about you and the other Time Lord. She's making me stay in bed today.

Fine. See you tomorrow! Good. She'd be out of his hair while he was busy causing trouble. The Soldier began to plan further. After a bit more than an hour, he finally finished his planning. He worked out every detail and outcome. He finished the second coffee he'd had to order. (He'd been threatened that if he didn't buy something, he would get kicked out.) He paid and left the cafe, walking calmly down the street. He half-expecting the TARDIS to appear beside him again, which would be the easiest way about this, but it was highly unlikely. He also expected the Doctor to be waiting back at St. Bart's Hospital for him again: a place he was not going. Or he could call the Doctor personally, but that wouldn't nearly be as much fun.

As I mentioned before, he'd thought of everything. Everything except an extra special friend of the Doctor's.

"Doctor!" a tall, somewhat handsome man shouted, running towards the Soldier at top speed. The Soldier glanced back and grumbled. He tried to ignore whoever it was, but that was never going to happen. The man soon caught up and hugged him, panting. The Soldie scowled.

"Get off of me now before I shoot you dead," he threatened. He didn't usually do the dirty work, but his sniper was busy and he wasn't the type you hugged unexpectedly.

Whoever had hugged him let go, but they commented, "Good luck with that, Doctor."

"I'm not the Doctor. Let's get this straight very quickly because I am not the Doctor. You can call me the Soldier. Please, not the Doctor."

"Oh, well then," the man said, still smiling. "My name is Capta'n Jack Harkness. Pleasure to meet you!" he said in a flirtaious tone.

"Well, hello Jack," he answered, uninterested and bored. He wondered if Sebby was done yet. He called him. "Sorry, Jack. If you could just shut up for a bit."

"Sure thang."

"Thanks. Oh, hey Sebby! ... Good. Should I come over there? ... Okay. Be there in a sec. The abandoned one? ... Thanks!" He shut the phone. "Come on, Jack. I have, uh, an appointment with someone." He hailed a cab and patted the seat next to him, cueing Jack to get in to.

"So, Soldier, where are we going?" he asked, still flirting, after the Soldier whispered the destination to the cabbie.

"Don't flirt," the Soldier warned him.

"Oh, you're taken?" He was still flirting. The Soldier frowned, turned to him, grabbed his coat collar, that darn cute trenchcoat collar, and kissed him. He pulled away after Jack started to get rough.