The Shadowmen

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

The Doctor was speechless. The Sherlock Holmes? For a moment, he forgot about the giant gash in his shoulder. How the hell did a fictional character become flesh and blood? Ouch. Blood. The Doctor's focus snapped back to the bleeding hole in his arm.

"Wow, I'd forgotten how fragile and very painful skin can be." The Doctor strolled back to the TARDIS. He fumbled for the TARDIS key and opened the door in a hurry. Next thing, the Doctor scrambled to the storage room. "Where is that med-pack? Wherewherewherewherewherewh- AHA, found it!" The triumphant Time Lord held the med-pack up and opened it. He had a grin on his face, which dissolved when he realised that he needed help to apply the ointment. The Doctor sighed. "God, I hate being alone." He eventually tied the bandage around his arm and grimaced.

The Doctor ran to the console and opened the search function. "Vashta Nerada."

Console: Sentient Shadows of unknown origin. They dwell in forests and-

"Ok, not what I'm looking for. What about Shadowmen? Will that work?"

Console: No such records exist.

"Shadow Things?"

Console: No such records exist.

"Dark men?"

Console: No such records exist.

"Fine, I get it. Nothing with the thingys. I'm going to call them Shadowmen, though. Catchy. What about Sherlock Holmes?"

Console: No such records exist.

"Sexy! I just want some information. Let's try Sherlock Holmes again."

Console: No such records exist.

"Why not? I know they exist. I've read them myself? Here, I'll show you." The Doctor ran to the library and looked for his copies. Not to brag or anything, but he got the first edition back in 1887, and went back to 1882 to get Sir Arthur Conan Doyle to sign them himself before he became famous. But after looking, the copies had disappeared.

"Oh my god. Sherlock Holmes has gone. And is alive? I'm too confused. I'll work on that later." The Doctor ran to the doors, while explaining what he was going to do next. "I'm going to need my sonic screwdriver and a flashlight. I don't have a flashlight, though, so I'll have to make do with just the screwdriver. I'm gonna go inside, sonic around aaaaaaaaaaaand-" He looked around and realised no one was there for the second time today. "I'll just go and do my thing."

Fifteen minutes later, he was at the apartment complex. One problem; there was a police line. And it looked like an investigation was about to take place. "Well, a quick scan will take about five minutes." So he slipped inside and started to scan for anything that. "Huh? Spatial-temporal signature. Leading to the stairs?"

And upstairs he went. All the way to the top floor. It was a dull room, light green, nothing special, except a stain of- oh god, wonderful. A stain of blood was in the wall and floor. After scanning a bit, it seemed most of the spatial-temporal residue was fixed on the wall. "What is this? A portal? A portal. Well, well, well. Where are you from, then? I think you-"

Suddenly, voices approached from up the stairs. The police! The Doctor spun around, looking for an exit. The only door was the one that the police were approaching, and there were no windows. "Great. The one room I get trapped in has no exits." He flinched as he heard a hand on the door, but heard a familiar baritone voice.

"Let me in alone. I need five minutes at least to review the evidence. No, don't say a word, DI Braddock. I don't care if you won't let me. Just ask DI Lestrade. He works at Scotland Yard. Go. Go on. Get out of here." The Doctor stiffened. That was Sherlock Holmes. And he was going to find him, snooping around with a glowy stick. The door opened and Sherlock slipped in. He looked at the Doctor and said, "Ah, hello. You're that man who got stabbed and lied to me earlier today. Now, if you'll get out of my way, I must conduct the evidence. I will throw you out of the window if you get in my way." He walked over to the blood stain and began to scrape the blood stained wood from the wall.

The Doctor was dumbstruck. "You won't ask why I'm here?

Sherlock replied without looking up from his scraping. "Your strange taste of clothing indicates that you are not from Cardiff. This isn't your apartment. A tad eccentric. That steely look in your eye before I walked up gave me the impression that you're dangerous. You also have lost a lot of people that you care about, because you glanced at the couple who survived together with tears. Obviously reminding you of someone you lost. Smart, too. You walk with an air about you, like you know something others don't. This isn't your apartment. You were trying to perform a good deed and were attacked. So you came here to find the man that attacked you. You're smart, so you could track him down. Dangerous. You could make him hurt. Also, you lost people. You'll do anything to either protect others or get what you want back. You're looking for revenge for your arm. A bit extreme, but I'm sure you're just like that."

"How..." The Doctor looked confused and in awe. "How did you know that I'm eccentric?"

"That bow tie." Sherlock smirked, got up and started to walk away. "Join me, Doctor. I'm not often stumped on a case, and I'd like to keep it that way. You seem to know something that could help me solve this, and I know a good Greek place a block away. On the way over there, you can tell me how right I was on the deduction. Oh, I do love hearing others praise me."

The Doctor had no choice but to follow. He also couldn't wait to see Sherlock's face when he told him that his deduction about revenge was completely off.

They climbed down the stairs, past a stunned DI Braddock. "Detective Inspector." The Doctor attempted to be polite.

"Who the hell is he? Sherlock, answer me now!" Braddock exclaimed.

Sherlock simply replied, "Haven't the faintest!" Then, to the Doctor, "Just keep walking."

Braddock was getting mad. "GET BACK HERE, NOW."

Sherlock, calm as ever, said, "Sorry, Braddock. I'm busy. Toodle-pip!" They exited the building, and Sherlock simply told the Doctor, "RUN." By the time Braddock reached the doorway, the two geniuses were long gone.