Something is Wrong (Johnlock and DoctorWho)

Chapter 3 Meeting the Boys

The Doctress almost gagged on Mrs.Hudson's tea, an overly large amount of honey mixed in and clogging her throat. The time-traveler sat across from her old friend and politely smiled, trying not to act out of place.

"It is awfully nice to see you again Doctress, and you look just as young and lovely as you were when you last visited me as a young woman. As fair as you were when we saved the world...." Mrs.Hudson reminisced.

"Thank you, you're still as shining as a rose. I do try and visit when I can, but my red box is still giving me trouble when I visit. It must be jealous, and I still have that habit of laying upside down every time I need to think since last time I was here." The Doctress laughed, handing over her payment in an envelope to Mrs.Hudson for letting her park the TARDIS out front and giving her a room upstairs.

"The boys that stay here love the splash of color. Even if it is crimson." Mrs.Hudson said, then whispering, "They especially like the crimson."

"Ha! I would like to meet these boys. I might as well, since I'm going to be staying here for about a week. Would that be okay with them?" The Doctress asked, placing her tea far away from her casually.

"Why, of course dear. I do need to warn you however, the one in the trench coat can get bored! Last time I can remember he got bored, he spray-painted a smiley face in yellow on the wall and shot it!" Mrs.Hudson exclaimed, standing up slowly and heading towards the stairs.

"Sounds like a hand full, Martha." The Doctress replied, placing her hand on the railing of the stairs and following after her old friend. It pained her to see the woman moving up so slowly.

"Thay are. That's one of the reasons I want you inside here, and not in your red box all night, doing who knows what. You would hardly get a wink of sleep!" The old lady exclaimed, knocking on a door in front of them. "John!" She called, "John! Open the door please, we have a new house mate!"

"One second, Mrs.Hudson!" A voice called from the inside. Something along the lines of "Get your pants on!" Also came through before the door swung open to the blogger, as the Doctress realized, the blogger of Sherlock Holmes.

The Doctress extended a hand from her pocket. "Hello. I am the Doctress, nice to meet you." She said, giving a light smile.

"John." The man said, his choppy blonde hair in a fritz as he shook her hand.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" The Doctress asked casually, spotting out every detail of the man in front of her.

"Oh. my. goodness. Sherlock! I think you have a new friend at the door!" John calls behind him and looks back. "And, Afghanistan."

"Oh. Did you say Sherlock?" The Doctress asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course he said Sherlock." Sherlock himself says, walking to the door dressed only in a sheet.

"Sherlock get some-" John started.

"Is that to help you think, or just to give you freedom around your own house?" The Doctress interrupted, not wanting to bother any habit that Sherlock may have started. Taking away any freedom from the man, she worried with a glance over his face, might put him into a suicidal mood.

"Both." Sherlock answers, pulling the sheet around this head. The Doctress saw him as a child with that movement, and had the urge to protect him even more so.

"Let me guess then, you're the one in the trench coat that shot a smiley face on the wall?" The Doctress deduced with a smile, as Mrs.Hudson led her into the room.

"Yes, that would be Sherlock- and pardon me, but do you know each other?" John asked, sounding annoyed. The Doctress could see the telltale flush of embarrassment on his face, and she could quickly make the connection between that and Sherlock only wearing a sheet.

"Yes, we had a game of wits." The Doctress said as if it was common knowledge. "So, are you a resident sociopath, or do you have another profession?"

"Consulting Detective." Sherlock answered, looking her over. "Now you. What do you do?"

"Usually, some top agency or something of the sorts calls me when I'm here." The Doctress answered vaguely yet plainly, planning on pulling a few strings. She could cash in a few favors to actually get a job, but they often came to her in time.

"Should Mrs.Hudson and I go to the other room?" John asked, sarcastically. They both didn't seem comfortable and the Doctress and Sherlock were having a very short, almost robotic conversation.

"That would help." Sherlock said before sitting down in his seat, John chuckling sadly in acceptance before he and Mrs.Hudson headed downstairs. "How about your name?" Sherlock asked.

"I am the Doctress."

"I mean your name." Sherlock prompted again.

"That is my name. Don't make fun." The Doctress insisted, crossing her arms.

Sherlock's lips quirked up, satisfied with receiving his answers, and freely doing so. "Do you normally tie your hair up with ribbons from World War two?" He asked, clasping his hands together and leaning forwards In his seat.

"Yea, I guess it's old fashioned of me." The Doctress answered, untying the royal purple ribbon from her hair and letting it fall to her shoulders, tucking the ribbon in her pocket.

Sherlock lowered his eyebrows, tilting his head. He wasn't satisfied that she didn't divulge more about the ribbons, as people might do with family heirlooms. "Would you like some tea?" He asked.

"As long as I am not drowned in honey or cream." The Doctress nodded, lifting her eyebrows and giving a 'or so help me' grin.

"Mrs.Hudson gave you some of hers already, then. I do not make my tea like hers, so I'm sure you will be fine." Sherlock reassured, adjusting his sheet as he headed to the kitchen.