What do you want to be when you grow up? I don't want to be alone.

I walked over to the familiar blue box. Or at least, where it would be. Currently, however, all that remained of it was a square on the ground that was void of dust. I let out a frustrated noise and threw my gun to the ground. "Doctor!"

I searched around me for signs of the strange man (if he was in fact a man, I had my doubts), but my expert eye found none. It must have dematerialized with him in it. "Doctor!" I called again. Nothing. This was tedious. I sat against the building next to me and checked my phone. The Doctor had done something to it so that everything progressed relative to when I left. My phone was Wi-Fi enabled so I went online to John's blog. I had it specifically bookmarked and checked it often, but it never changed. I looked over the last thing he posted. He was my best friend and I'll always believe in him. Under that was a video, but my phone wouldn’t open it. I tapped the comment box and started to type. Thank you John. You were my best and only friend too. You still are. I typed this out then stared at the message for a while before deleting it. As much as I wanted to tell John I was alive, I knew he wouldn’t believe me unless I was there in front of him.

I closed out of his blog and opened my text messages. I had two from Mycroft and several from John. I opened the messages from Mycroft, knowing Johns would be most painful to read and pushing them off as much as possible.

Sherlock, It’s about John...He’s...been shot.

My throat tightened and I tried to calm my breathing. Was it Moriarty? Did he... I shook my head. I would not think of that, not when I didn’t have any data to back it up. I moved on to the next message from Mycroft.

Johns fine by the way. Are you returning any time soon? He needs you.

My breathing relaxed. John was safe. I typed out three words that I never thought I would say.

Thank you Mycroft.

I hit send and watched the screen as it processed it. As insufferable as Mycroft was at times, other times he was quite nice. I would never tell him of course, but I relied on that. I leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes before opening them a moment later and checking the messages from John.

Sherlock, come back.

Please?

I don’t believe it. Any of it. You didn’t invent Moriarty.

I miss you.

Sherlock, I think I... Never mind. You’ll think it’s stupid.

Screw it. Sherlock I-I think I love you.

Why are you doing this to me? Do you know how much this hurts?

I can’t take this anymore...

This text, it’s...it’s my note. That’s what people do, don’t they? Leave a note?

I pushed back the tears threatening at the corners of my vision as I read the last text. Moriarty hadn’t shot John. He had shot himself. He shot himself because of me. Me.

"DOCTOR!" I bellowed. I needed to get back to John. Now.

I turned at a whooshing sound behind me and breathed a sigh of relief. Finally. The blue box appeared next to me. "Yes, alright, come in!" I heard from inside. I pushed open the door to reveal a rust colored interior. Several Y shaped structures held up the domed ceiling. A large console sat in the center. Currently a man in a blue suit and brown duster ran around the console, pressing buttons, flicking levers.

I looked around the room and the man in front of me. "Who are you? Is this the right time travelling blue box?"

The man in front of me laughed. "Can’t be that many of them, can there?" He looked down at himself. "Do I really look that different Sherlock? Might of gotten a haircut since then but... couldn’t have change that much."

I looked the man in front of me over. "You’re the Doctor?" I asked skeptically. "What happened to the long scarf, the curly hair?"

He ran a hand though his spiky hair. "Oh, has it really been that long? That was a good...oh I’d say that was a good six faces so..." he brought up a finger and started writing in the air "three-four hundred years? Give or take." He leaned against the console and placed his hands in his pockets. "What can I do for you?"

"Take me home. Take me to John." He smiled and turned around, flicking switches and pressing things, flying around the panel. The TARDIS shuddered as the whooshing started. I pulled out my phone and typed the four words I had been dying to type since my fall.

John, I’m coming home.

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Clicky the link under the picture! I added it for a reason.

~Trisha