A/N: First story on this COLLAB account! Yay! @Fangirl_at221B here, and I hope you enjoy this first chapter!
Doctor knocked at the black door with brass lettering 3 times. Tapping his foot in anxiousness, he glanced at the psychic paper once more. The address was right; 522D Fallswood Street. He had even informed the man that he would be visiting.
After a few seconds of waiting, Doctor rapped his knuckles against the wooden door. "Come on! Open up!"
There was still no answer. Frustrated and yearning to confront the man who resided in this silly little flat, he yelled through the door: "It's the Doctor!" with no regrets.
Immediatly, the door swung open. Standing at the doorway stood an annoyed curly-haired consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes, in a simple shirt and baggy jeans. "Took you long enough," he grumbled, annoyed.
He sighed, and stepped to the side, allowing Doctor to pass through the door. Sherlock slammed the door shut once Doctor's whole body was inside his flat.
The flat was the twin of 221B. It was in case something ever happened to the original flat. If it got bombed, Moriarty had guards surrounding it, or maybe Mrs. Hudson wanted them out, he had 522D.
Sherlock climbed up the stairs, not waiting for Doctor to follow. The Doctor walked around the bottom floor, investigating every inch of it. After finally getting bored, he climbed up the stairs in pursuit of Sherlock.
Doctor sat himself down on an armchair once he reached the top of the stairs.
"So, why are you here?" Sherlock asked, sitting in the seat directly across from Doctor. Making a few deductions, he noticed that the Doctor was on his eleventh regeneration. He had gotten three or four new companions since his last regeneration, and he had gotten married.
"Just to visit you, ol' pal!" he exclaimed, putting a goofy smile on his face. But Sherlock saw though his fake happiness. "Sherlie, be a nice little detective and get me some red wine."
Grudgingly, he obeyed the Doctor's orders. Sherlock must've changed, however he wasn't the only one. He went into the kitchen and brought back a tray with wine glasses filled with red wine. The red wine bottle was propped on the tray as well. He set it on the counter, and proceeded to move.
Sherlock looked outside the window of his flat, the night skies glittering. He wasn't admiring the view, though. He was keeping an eye out if ever any wandering member of the Scotland Yard or a specific army doctor had appeared.
"Heard you've been impersonating me again," he said, trying to open up a new conversation.
Doctor picked up one of the glasses. "Doyle's version of you. There's a difference," he simply replied, then shortly after, drowned down the red liquid. His vision blurred slightly and his throat burned, but he continued to speak. His words were the a bit slurred. He started to get a little tipsy. "Besides, I'm not the only one who's been up to something. Faking your own death?"
The blood flowing through Sherlock's body ran cold. The left side of his mouth twitched in the slightest way that Doctor could only just notice. He looked away from the window, and stared at the ground, a frown outlining his lips.
"How's John taking it?" Doctor smirked, pleased with the reaction of Sherlock.
Sherlock parted his lips to speak, but before words tumbled out, he paused. For once in his life, he thought about the words he would say before saying them. Finalizing what he would say, he said it. "Why are you really here, Doctor?" he asked in a low whisper.
Doctor replied a minute after Sherlock had asked. If it wasn't for the alcohol messing with his mind, he would've replied seconds after Sherlock had asked.
"I need you to help me find someone."
This time, Sherlock didn't even think before spitting out his words.
"And what if I don't want to help you?" he spat bitterly. He turned around to glare at the Doctor. "I've been through enough without John. Two bloody years! And now you expect me to find that one person you desperately can't live without? What ever happened to you picking up girls like Anderson picks up insults from me?!"
The wine glass slipped through Doctor's fingers. He stood up and stood directly in front of Sherlock. He grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt using both his hands, and pulled him down so that Sherlock's face was in front of his. "Listen here you ungrateful genius.
Sherlock tried to remain calm and collected on the outside, but his thoughts ran wild. "Why is Doctor acting this way? He's never done anything like this before!" he thought to himself, but not allowing to show his nervousness.
"I've actually bothered to come check on you once in a while in your alternate universe. It's impossible to keep traveling from my universe to yours, but you sure should be glad that I somehow found a way! You've been called a freak all your life, but I was the first who didn't think you were a freak. I gave you the damn skull to talk to until you finally met your temporary friend whom you end up leaving!" Doctor yelled, his breath reeking of alcohol. "I've helped you all your life, and now you're going to help me with mine. Or else I'll tell everyone in this universe that mister Sherlock Holmes faked his death and is still alive."
That may be good, right? The mighty Sherlock Holmes, not dead. It may cause publicity and talk around London, but here's the main problem. They both know that Moriarty was real, and is still out there.
Moriarty is just waiting for Sherlock to slip up. Once he knows dear Sherlock isn't dead, the only people he ever cared about will be gone...
Sherlock had a hard time grasping the thought of Doctor doing such a thing. He hoped that he was joking. But with a countenance like Doctor's, he knew he wasn't kidding around. Finally, he used the only solution he could think of our of the situation. "Fine."
Doctor grinned, releasing Sherlock from his grasp. Sherlock straightened himself, and looked down upon the Doctor. He folded his hands together, and walked to his room. He came out minutes later, wearing a suit.
"Don't you think it'll make it a little obvious you're Sherlock Holmes wearing a suit? Because I bet no one in England knows any sane person who wears suits on a casual day," Doctor mumbled, slurring his words.
"I'm suspect that we're going to your universe, correct?" Sherlock asked, ignoring the insult hidden in Doctor's words.
Doctor nodded slowly, a delayed response. "Indeed we are."
Sherlock sighed, making a mental note to never allow Doctor to drink any alcohol ever again. "If we're going to be in your universe, no one will suspect that I exist."
Doctor looked bewildered. "Oh yeah. Right, right. I guess we should be heading out. Now, come along, Holmes."
