Something is Wrong (Johnlock and DoctorWho)

Chapter 1 Meeting Sherlock

The clash of chess pieces echoed in the Great Hall, accompanying the snap of shoes on the tile floor. The Doctress yawned, looking out at 23 Baker Street at her red Police Box, then back at her game, where she was playing against her own wit. Playing against herself was extraordinarily boring today.

A man walked in; he said he was looking for something, and the admission man was all to happy to let him in. Something about the man intrigued the Doctress. There was something about him that reminded her of something she had to do.... She thought about this as stared at his trench coat collar.

Goose bumps ran up her spine, and she took out a newspaper from her satchel she swore she would remember to carry, and unlike some Timelords, she did in fact, remember. She swore to remember.

The headline was clear: Fake Detective Commits Suicide Off Building. The date was set for two days after the one she was currently on, so she had gotten the paper two days before it even was printed off the press, or the draft was even written, and therefore the man that committed- or will commit, she was never sure- suicide was going to jump off the building the next day. Timelord and time travel science annoyed her, as she could never quite get the past, present, and future tenses right.

The man payed his charge for entering the room and sat down across from her, picking up a chess peice.

"The gallery is lovely, isn't it?" He cleaned off the chess piece with the edge of his coat. His eyes shifted, like he was observing her. She was observing him. She glanced out the window, at her TARDIS. The yard right outside was swarmed with children, blocking the view of the red box. She looked back at the man, putting away her paper.

He had made his move. It was made very quickly, and put the Doctress's king in a bad position.

This man across from her, with his high cheekbones and trench coat, was Sherlock.

And the Doctress, the Timelord, knew exactly what she was going to do the next day. Save the bloke in front of her who dared to strut in and play chess with her.

"I guess the gallery is lovely around this time of day." The Doctress agreed, making a quick move that removed the Consulting Detective's knight off a high and mighty position.

Sherlock observed her, every small movement she made, but could not deduce anything solid about her like he could with every other person. What he could tell was she didn't brush her hair and she wasn't wearing makeup, and he liked her tan or beige trench coat. Her unusual mannerisms and undeducted behavior intrigued him, and that was the only reason why he bothered coming in the gallery today. He intended to try and solve this questionable lady.

The Doctress smirked, sitting up in her chair and tying up her hair in a strange ponytail. Sherlock could not tell what chess piece she might move, or if her hands were quick from her work or muscle memory, but he could tell she was happy for a challenging chess match.

The game was not long enough for Sherlock, every time he made a move she would deflect and advance towards his king, and every time he tried to solve her she would do something to make him doubt himself. They ended up in a locked position, a stalemate without a winner.

"Well." She finally said, giving a stretch, "I have to be off. Lovely game there, Sherlock, I would love to play again sometime."

Sherlock stopped himself from calling out to her. She knew his name without asking him? Did she read his name the papers she had? What was her job? His curiosity rose, and she offered no answers.

Without a reason to stay, he stood up and was about to walk back home. Three ribbons on the seat caught his eye, one crimson, one navy blue, one a eggshell color that use to be white, and obviously from the way they where sprawled out, they had fallen out of her pocket when she took one to tie up her hair. They seemed aged, likely older than him, and probably valuable to her.

The Doctress would come looking for them, so Sherlock took them and put them in his trench coat pocket, and left.