Strange Detective

"Your a doctor?"

"Doctor!" A posh accent rang through the flat, John and Sherlock turned to a very disheveled looking women, rich and dressed in a pencil skirt in a pastel pink and matching blazer with a ruffle shirt.
"I heard a doctor lived here!" She said frantically, blood on her hands and fear in her eyes.
"Yes" answered John and Sherlock simultaneously.
"He needs a doctor, he's bleeding out, the bullets gone inside him, please help!"
John paused to look at Sherlock, but there were more important matters on hand, John raced out the flat, Sherlock close at his heels and following the woman.
"Where?!" Sherlock asked frantically looking around him.
"Over there, follow me!" She called, running in the opposite direction, heals clicking into the concrete pavement of Baker Street to a car around the corner.

The car was overturned, must have been going too fast and not paying attention. Sherlock ran round the side of the car to see a man inside, beaten badly, blood running down his face. He was upside down because the car was and he was unable to move. Blood leaking through his stomach where he'd been shot.

"John get your gun, I'll deal with it" Sherlock informed, getting the man out of the car.

"But your not a doctor!" John said exasperated, helping Sherlock lay the man on the floor.

"Just do as I ask, please!" Sherlock called, a different accent slipping off his tongue and not his usual baritone.

John was confused to say the least, Sherlock wasn't a doctor and now his accent was turning almost American, in the time Sherlock had been gone disassembling Moriarty's web he had seemed slightly different. He had trembling hands but John just assumed it was from trauma.

John called an ambulance and ran to get his gun, leaving Sherlock tending to the wounded man. John ran and his heart was beating painfully in his chest, blood boiling and adrenaline pumping through him like cyanide.

When John came back, gun tucked into his belt, he found Sherlock crouched over the man, a set of equipment laying on a mat next to him, the man was on a blanket and the ambulance was coming over.

"I need to get the bullet out, its blocking major arteries, he'll be dead by the time we get to the hospital." Sherlock explained, taking a scalpel and tweezers, and then reaching into the wound and tending to it, his face contorted in concentration but he was calm.

"Sherlock what are you doing?" John asked worriedly.

"It's fine, I'm trained." Sherlock explained quickly, finally pulling the tweezers back and pulling out a small metal bullet, the man was unconscious so he didn't feel the pain of the operation. The ambulance pulled up and paramedics rushed out, helping sherlock lift the man onto a stretcher and being carted off.

"He will be fine" Sherlock informed the ambulance men.

"Who are you?" One of the paramedics asked.

"Ahh, Strange, Doctor Stephen Strange" Sherlock replied, holding out his hand to them and shaking it. American accent slipping again.

John stood confused, shock at everything that had happened. Sherlock had saved a life and he seemed to know perfectly well what he was doing. But his name was Sherlock not Stephen, what was he on about?

They headed back to the flat, Sherlock pulled off his coat and hung it tenderly back on the rack, scarf looped over as well before sitting in his assigned chair and relaxing his trembling fingers.

"Your not a doctor Sherlock" John stated confused.

"Indeed you'll find I am" Sherlock replied, a knowing grin on his face.

"I am so confused, is this some sort of weird dream?" John asked, perplexed.

"No it's very much real John, Stephen strange is almost like a code name of mine, I've been assigned to look after London, England in general. I have a tremor because I have nerve damage in my hands, only when I decide to focus my power through my hands can I actually use them properly."