Courtney Moriarty always stood apart from the crowd. She had grown up on the streets of London with her younger brothers. Their was only one thing holding her onto sanity... her best friend Sherlock Holmes.
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Julia's p.o.v:
What in the holy gods of Gallifrey is Sherlock wearing? He looked like he raided the high council of Time Lords' closets. And yet he still managed to have his coat collar flipped upwards for dramatic effect. At least now I understood his code name...
"Julia?"
"Yes?"
"Shut up."
Courtney's p.o.v:
Here I sit in front of the batcomputer, fingers hacking away at earth's satellites. Ah, I'm through! Ok, now to amplify the signal...Oh! I can use the technology the Doctor used to make me able to call anyone!
Ok, I think I got it. Now to compose the email.
Dear Shadow proclamation,
It has come to my attention that Daleks have begun using a herd of Vashta Nerada to...
No that sounds stupid.
Back in the tardis;third person:
Sherlock's eyes scanned his surroundings. Courtney's clothes were folded in a neat pile on the floor. An outfit was missing, only recently removed from the shelf. Her footprints seemed to criss cross, a habit Courtney did occasionally when curious or when she was trying to be 'sneaky'.
She had walked up to something once, turned around, switched clothing, then reapproached it. But what did she approach? Pulling out his retractable magnifying glass, his multicolored eyes scanned the ground. Just as he suspected. A break in the dust line. About the size of a door frame.
Sherlock stood up, a smirk on his face. He had all the information he needed. He closed his eyes and imagined a door leading to Courtney. Once his eyes reopened, their stood the door. Rolling his eyes, Sherlock opened the door.
