A Study In Blink (A Wholock Crossover)

Chapter fifteen

Sherlock sat in the dark chamber, mind whirling with thoughts. The Doctor didn't say anything, he just stood there, staring into nothingness, the anger that Sherlock had seen earlier in his countenance had not yet faded. A tweed jacket was thrown carelessly to his right along with a piece of paper.

"So you're the Doctor then?"

The man glanced over at him, his eyes were downcast and a deep terrible sadness raged beneath the show of calm. It then occurred to Sherlock that 'the Doctor' could hardly be this man's name, he must've chosen it, and it must've reflected how he lived his life. Playing the Doctor, helping the patient, never showing the damage and the pain.

"Yes, I suppose I am."

The Doctor turned back again, and gently touched the force field, then he seemed to snap back to what he must have been like. "All right, so, this Madam Psyche apparently took the liberty of procuring the two of us from our respective timelines, going by your looks you must be from 21st century...um."

"London," Sherlock obliged.

"Right, yes, London. Good. Old. London." He went over to the tweed jacket and put it on, meanwhile stuffing the piece of paper in the pocket.

It was a strange feeling for Sherlock, for he had not felt it very often. Uncertainty. Doubt. At this peculiar case of the Angels.

"So these Angels," he began, "these Angels are aliens from outer space?" He didn't wait for an answer however and continued. "This morning, in my timeline, a phonebox appeared at one of my friend's houses with a note stuck to it. Then someone phoned, explaining all about the Angels and not explaining much about you. From what I can gather, you're not from Earth are you? You are an alien, like the Angels. Not as youthful as you look? And perhaps travels through time and space?"

The Doctor, who had kept his silence when Sherlock had been talking. Now, he smiled. Not the cold harsh smile he gave to Madam Psyche, but definitely not a warm smile either. It was the kind of smile you give when trying to show you're alright when you're actually not. It was a jokester's smile to hide the pain. Again confirms Sherlock's suspicion that the Doctor, had just lost someone important to him.

"Those were the days," he said wistfully, "and you must be Sherlock Holmes, chemist, consulting detective."

"Yes," Sherlock replied, he did not ask how the Doctor knew this, only the fact that he did was all that matters. "Where do you suppose we are?"

"Some space station most likely, the gravity doesn't feel right. Artificial no doubt, and going by the architecture... I'd say we were in the 23rd century Earth. Funny, because Earth hadn't developed these sort of technology, yet." He then dropped down to the floor and pressed his face to the cold concrete and listened.

"The engines," he said, "the engines have gone wrong. They shouldn't be making that sound."

"What sound?" Sherlock asked.

Just then, a sudden lurch sent Sherlock sprawling to the floor. Glancing up, the Doctor had popped right to his feet and leaned against the force field.

"Let me out!" He shouted, pressing his hands to the bluish field. "The engines have gone wrong, please, let me out I can fix this!" He continued to ban his fists against the force field. "Please! We'll all die if you don't!"

Between the sudden baring red lights and the alarm bells, the Doctor's shouts and the violent lurching of the space ship, Sherlock made out a sharp clip-clopping sound that could only mean one thing. He got up to his feet and took a stand -a very wobbly stand- besides the Doctor. Madam Psyche walked in, fingers working furiously at the small panel in her hand.

"Madam Psyche," the Doctor said, "this space ship is crash landing and I don't think anyone on this ship have the ability to fix it, except me. Now if you don't want to die a horrible death I would suggest you let me out and into the engine room."

Her cold blue eyes were still laughing but her lips twitched in obvious discomfort. With her eyes still on the Doctor, she pressed several buttons on the panel and the force field disappeared. The Doctor straightened his jacket and turned towards Sherlock. He gave a slight wink and walked out of the prison.

The Doctor seemed to know where he was going, taking turns before Madam Psyche even pointed them out. Once however, he took a wrong turn and slammed into a wall. Five minutes later, they were in the engine room, mini explosions were going on everywhere. Sparks flew at intervals around the controls. The screen in front of them blazed with nine words:

WARNING: ENGINES FAILING. CRASH LANDING IMMINENT IN 97 SECONDS.

The Doctor, held out his hand to Madam Psyche, and she pulled a peculiar instrument out of her coat pocket and handed it to the Doctor. He took it and was off, streaking across to the controls.

"Now this, this technology is beyond Earth, invisibility, intergalactic hyperdrive, and oh, nuclear warheads. Expecting attacks are you?" He punched a few buttons and the ship lurched even more. It was gaining speed, hurtling towards the planet below.

"We're going to crash!" Sherlock yelled.

"I KNOW!" The Doctor shouted back, "SONIC SCREWDRIVER WILL SORT IT OUT! DON'T WORRY!"

He then pointed the "sonic screwdriver" at the controls, and sparks burst out from them. The Doctor fell backwards, but he seemed elated.

"GERONIMOOO!"

*******

The crash was not pleasant, but fortunately no one was hurt. The crew got out of the remaining ship and onto the planet. They had seemingly crashed in a field, in the distance, Sherlock saw great towers rise above the clouds and smaller spaceships encircling the city. He also took a close watch on the Doctor, and watched him approach Madam Psyche. Being closely involved in the recent events, Sherlock walked towards them, interested to hear what the Doctor had to say.

"Your ship," the Doctor said.

"What about it?" Madam Psyche snapped.

"If you are who I think you are, that ship couldn't be yours. Need I remind you of Article 18 of the Shadow Proclamation?" The rage had returned to the Doctor's eyes as he gazed down at Madam Psyche, "and need I tell you what happens to those who get in my way? And more importantly, need I ask you what happens to those who take away the people I care about?"

Madam Psyche looked back with equal ferocity, "you can't do anything to me, Doctor. You wouldn't and you can't."

The Doctor didn't say anything, instead, he turned and walked a few paces away from Madam Psyche. Several crew members walked briskly towards him and took hold of his shoulders, but he jerked away.

"I thought the angel was just a coincidence, but it wasn't, was it? You placed it there, and I have no idea how you've managed to negotiate with the Angels but let me tell you one thing. Just one thing. Next time you take away people I love there will be consequences. I am the Doctor and if you think that Amelia is gone I will be weak then you are very wrong. Do you understand?"

Madam Psyche didn't say anything as the rest of the crew took hold of the Doctor again and cuffed him. Sherlock stood there, and let a tall and buff man place a hand cuff around his wrists. He then allowed himself to be escorted away, away from the wrecked ship and towards the distant city.

Author's Notes:

Wow this chapter is long! But I am satisfied with how it turned out. Please press the star shaped button to show your support and comment if you have any suggestions. Stay tuned, Allons-y!

~Emma