Your Ghost is Found: A Whovian/Sherlockian Love Story
Thirty-three years later- Mary’s time
“It really isn’t your fault.” She says, and you can see in her eyes how much it really, truly is. “You’ve just got two hearts.”
“What do you mean, love?” You asks, her logic is escaping you as human logic often does.
“You’ve got two hearts. and that’s more then any of the rest of us.” She wipes her eyes and laughs sadly. “You have so much more love to give, and it isn’t fair of me to want to take it all. It isn’t right.”
“Mary-”
“I know-” She cuts you off forcefully-” I know that I will never be your one and only. But as long as I can be one of your onlies, I’ll be alright.”
“You don’t have to go.” You tell her, but she purses her lips and shakes her head.
“Yes, I do.” She looks up at you and her eyes are so wet and it twinges something deep inside you. “You aren’t my Doctor anymore. I’m not your Mary. I’m old. I’m just getting older.”
“Mary, I won’t forget you.” You say, and she makes a sharp noise, but she nods all the same.
“I know you won’t, Doctor. Don’t take this the wrong way,” She laughs hopelessly and it makes you want to scream, “but, I hope I do forget you. I can’t live with these memories.” You can’t read her face anymore but she sees something in yours that makes her nods again and walk away.
You keep your composure until you’re back in the TARDIS, but when you look around you, everything looks like something you’ve lost.
The gentle whooshing of your ships taking off is as beautiful as ever, but this time it has undertones of longing and failure.
Three days later- The Doctor’s time
You’ve taken a bit of a holiday and you’re in some random shop waiting your your order to be brought out. A man sits down across from you and immediately turns his focus out the window to the opposite street.
He has a great big trenchcoat, it reminds you a bit of the one you wore two regenerations ago, when you were taller and very thin and your hair always looked a bit mad. The last time you held Rose. Well, actually, you suppose, a different then-version of you is probably holding Rose right now, but it’s not the you that is sitting across from the man in the big black coat, it’s a you that stopped regenerating. The you who never liked Fez’s , who never met Amy or Mary.
“What do you think of Fez’s?” you ask the man across from you, his eyes flick to you in astonishment, but he answers mostly out of surprise.
“They’re an eyesore.” He drawls and his eyebrows furrow at his own words. “Who are you?”
“I am the Doctor.” You reply, and this current form is already mousy enough with out this great sweeping thing beside you.
“Doctor who?” He asks, and you smile at these familiar words even though it makes you think of sad things.
“Just the Doctor.” You say, and his face becomes even more irritated. “What’s your name, then?”
“My name is Sherlock Holmes.” He scowls. “What is your name?” He repeats.
“I told you, just the Doctor.” You smile, his attention is entirely focused on you and it’s a bit like being under a very bright light.
“What are you doing in this restaurant?” He asks, and he sounds far more irritated than you would expect.
“I’m on holiday. Just popping around London. It’s lovely this time of year,” you say and the both of you turn to look out the wide window.
“It’s raining.” Mr. Sherlock Holmes comments dryly, and you wonder why that name sounds so bloody familiar.
“Spot on.” You tell him, and then the waiter brings over your tea and biscuits. He brightens visibly when he spots your table-mate.
“Sherlock!” The waiter says happily and pats Sherlock heavily on the shoulder.
“Hello.” Sherlock says, his eyes never leaving your face.
“Anything you want free of cost, of course. What’ll it be?” The man asks and Sherlock’s eyes flit out the window and he sighs heavily.
“Can I have a cuppa? And maybe some of those stick biscuit things.” He rests his chin in one gloved hand and looks at you with those odd eyes. You wonder if he’s not entirely human, and you’ve had enough run-ins that you pull your sonic screw-driver out of your waist band and shine it against his forehead. He rears back slightly but holds till under your movements. Yep, he’s entirely human, just a strange one. The waiter is still watching you, but his face is still incredibly cheery.
“Looks like you’ve found someone as bonkers as you, yeah?” He says, and Sherlock slowly turns his head to gaze blankly at the man.
“Don’t you have food to make.” He says, and it should be a question, but you have no doubt in your mind that this man doesn’t ask a lot of those.
‘Right, yeah, of course. I’ll be back in a jiff.” The waiter says and turns about.
“You aren’t human.” Sherlock says to you, and he flattens his hands together, palm to finger tip and taps his index fingers against his lips.
“What makes you say that?” You ask, you haven’t met a human this bright in ages.
“Your tool is high-tech enough that my first thought is that you are from the government, but judging from the open manner in which you hold yourself leads me to believe that you think you are invincible. Were you an agent with the government you would be all too aware of your own mortality. My next thought was that you are an inventor, but you have neither the callouses, nor the posture of a man who creates mechanical inventions. You hold yourself as if you were a young boy, but your physical appearance is that of someone over the age of thirty, and if you truly were simply limber in your old age, you wouldn’t wear a jumper. At least not the one you are wearing.” Sherlock finishes by clicking his tongue and taking one small bite from his biscotti, and in your fascination with this odd, incredible creature, you had missed your order being delivered.
“That was brilliant. Bloody brilliant!” You say and add a liberal amount of milk to your tea. You try a sip and it’s really horrid, so you switch it with the table next yours. It’s only a bit milky, and the perfect amount of sweet. Sherlock is still watching you, and you think there might even be a hint of shock in his eyes.
“You’ve just stolen that man’s tea.” Sherlock observes, and you both ignore the sputtering man beside you.
“Spot on, Mr. Holmes. But I must say, you have a bit of a problem with stating the obvious.” You tease and Sherlock’s face just becomes more impassive.
“You’ve made me miss my suspect.” Sherlock ignores your previous statement and nibbles a bit more at his snack.
“Oh, a suspect. You a copper?” You ask him, and then laugh when his face pinches up. “Not a copper then. A detective?”
“Close. I am the world’s only consulting detective.” Sherlock straightens in his seat and blinks owlishly at you.
“Consulting detective. I like the sound of that.” You say and brush some crumbs from your front. “And just what is wrong with my jumper? I think it’s a fine jumper.”
“It has sequins on the wrists. It is anything but fine.” Sherlock taps his long fingers against the table three times and then jumps up and dashes out the door.
“What an odd human.” You say softly, and for a moment there you had forgotten about Mary.
Two and one half hours later- Sherlock’s time
You’ve decided you rather enjoyed the year 2011, and once you’ve finished up with a bad infestation of Carrioinites on Anathema, you decide to pop back to London just for a bit. Just to hang about, maybe pick up some milk.
For some reason your TARDIS has put you smack-down in the middle of a warehouse, and that funny human from the coffee shop is there staring at a pill in his hand. There’s another humanoid sitting across from him at a long table.
The pill is inches away from Sherlocks’ mouth, and you follow your instinct, which means rolling over the table in between you and Mr.Holmes and snatching the pill from his fingers.
You scan it, it’s filled with all kinds of primitive human poisons and this daft human was about to ingest it. Maybe he isn’t as intelligent as you originally thought, but he is a human. They can’t really help it.
“Hello, again.” You saw distractedly to the tall human,and lean over the table to scan the strange little creature with the glasses. Human. Just sort an awful. “You do know that it’s incredibly wrong to try to kill others, right?” You tell him and Sherlock lifts up the hem of your jumper (blue with snowflakes).
“You seem completely human! This isn’t logical.” Sherlock growls and prods your torso. You can’t help the little giggle that escapes and you swat the back of his head.
“Of course I’m not a bloody human.” You watch Sherlock as he stands and begins pacing and muttering. “I’m the Doctor.”
“The Doctor!” Sherlock throws his arms up. “That is not a name! Or a race!” He whirls dramatically and points a finger in your face. “You are going to take me in your ship and explain all of this to me!”
“Come on then.” You say and you’re walking around the table with your screw driver aimed for the TARDIS’ lock.
“It has a broken disguise mechanism.” Sherlock says, and he only sounds half sure, you open the door.
“Correct! How did you guess that one?” You asks and gesture for him to come inside.
“I doubt your ship is a 1960’s style police box, and therefore it was hidden in plain sight as one. But that would not be as adequate in this time-era, so one could only assume that it was stuck in this form. Therefore-” Sherlock suddenly falls silent and when you look over you see his coat tails flap around the corner.
You grin and cross your arms, he appears shortly around the other side and sweeps in to the TARDIS.
“Illogical.” He hisses as if it were a curse word and takes off down one of the hallways in your ship.
“It’s, uh, larger on the inside.” You call after him, and you hear him sigh huffily. He slinks back into the main control room and you stick your hands in your pockets and fight back a grin.
“What is this thing called?” He asks, and you can tell exactly how frustrated he is.
“This is my TARDIS. Time and relative dimension is space.” You pat one of the levers on her control system lovingly. “She’s a precious, lovely thing.”
“Can it communicate?” Sherlock asks, and holds a small magnifying glass over one of the consoles.
“Goodness, no. Well, unless she does.” You respond and then an idea strikes you. “Say, if you could go anywhere, anytime ,where and when would it be?”
“Why is that relevant?” Sherlock ask and he hasn’t stopped inspecting things still.
“Humor me. Come on then, where and when?” You are already moving feeling for the proper lever.
“Uh, the beginning of life on Earth.” Sherlock is on his back peering up at the roof of the ship and clicking a flashlight on and off at it.
“Start of Earth life, check!” You say cheerfully and began flicking switches.
Seventeen hours later- Sherlock and The Doctors time
“First human I ever met who could hold their own with Socrates.” You pat Sherlock on the shoulder heavily and he glares at you from beneath a head of wet hair. “A shame he shoved you in the river, though. And when you tried to reason with Attila the Hun! Priceless. Wish I had a mum to show pictures of that to.”
“Shut up.” Sherlock grumbles and curls up in the fetal position in one of the corners.
“Oh, come now. At the very least get out of that big old coat.” You tell him and he lets you pull the soggy thing off him. He flops back down against the wall and stares blankly at his knees. “I have to say, you could’ve been a bit more delicate with the leader of the Judoon. I thought he was going to tear your head off when you called him out on being infertile.”
“Stop talking.” Sherlock says quietly and begins peeling threads from the top edges of his socks. “Stop breathing. Go somewhere else.”
“Maybe I should drop you back at your flat.” You say without thinking, but the second the words leave your mouth you feel your throat tighten.
“That won’t be necessary. It’s obvious you haven’t been alone in this machine for long. There is evidence of at least seven people, besides yourself, living in this machine at various periods over the last thirteen years.” Sherlock looks around vaguely and then drops his head to his knees. “The last of which has only been absent for a little under a week, but they are not coming back. At least, you don’t believe that he-no,no, she will.”
“You want to,uh, stay on? Stay with me?” You ask and studiously observe the sleeve on your jumper.
Sherlock slumps his shoulders up further around his ears and sighs haughtily. “Obviously that is what I’m saying.”
“Oh.” You say cheerfully and grin over at him. “Cheers then.”
Eight months later- Doctor and Sherlock’s time
“You have a great number of clothing items in this room.” Sherlock calls from the costume room. “None of these are new and many of them seem to have had heavy usage. They belonged to past companions?”
“Correct!” You reply cheerfully and then you come around the doorway and you see that he’s got Rose’s batty rainbow scarf in his hand and he’s squinting at it. You freeze because you haven’t let yourself think about this, about her, and it’s all smacking down at one. “Put that down.” You say and your voice is unnervingly steady.
Sherlock ignores you and lifts it to his nose. “Chanel Number 5, how dull.”
“She was not dull.” You say and he looks at you in surprise. “She was extraordinary.”
He peers curiously at you then his eyes harden and he climbs up in an armchair. “If the other items that smell of Chanel Number 5 also belong to her then clearly she was an extremely dull, very plain and average girl.” He plucks at the cords in the scarf and then twists his hands so the item in question wraps around his fists. He moves his arms apart and the knitting creaks in protest.
“PUT THE BLOODY SCARF DOWN.” You roar and his eyes squint even smaller but he lets the scarf untwine from his hands and puddle on the ground. You are reaching for it before you even realize and then you’re clutching it to your heaving chest, you’re hands are shaking.
“You loved her more then you thought that a Timelord could, isn’t that right? You would have stayed with her?” Sherlock rises to his feet and stands over you. “If you loved her then where is she? Why isn’t she here? Why am I here and she isn’t?” Sherlock’s face is bright red and his hands are clutching the front of your jumper, he is so very close to you.
“There are things on this ship that are none of your bloody business.” You say, and your voice sounds cold but you are still trembling, trembling against him now because he just keeps moving closer.
“Everything about you is my business.” Sherlock’s hands smooth out from where they were furled into fists and he moves his hands to cup your jaw. The tips of his finger index finger and middle finger bracket the lobes of your ears and his thumbs brush the corners of your lips and when he inhales it feels like he’s breathing you in. “Everything you think or do or feel or have felt or will feel is my business. You are mine. My Doctor.”
“You can’t just say that, Sherlock.” You tell him but he just arches a brow and looks down into your eyes with his alien ones and you want to say that you’re seeing Rose and that’s why you drop the scarf and kiss him. But all you can see or hear or feel in this moment is Sherlock and in this moment, in this very moment you aren't sure that you’ve ever experienced anything else.
He sucks in a breath through his nose and turns your head to his mouth can slot against yours, it’s silly and human but you feel that every moment has brought you right here. You pull him as close as you can and he just fits and then of course the TARDIS shifts suddenly, he falls to the ground and one of the metal squares in the ceiling falls on him.
“Er, I suppose that means then we’re to be off to save something.” You say and pull the square off him. You help him up and Sherlock brushes a hand through the fringe on your forehead.
“You are an odd little thing." He purses his lips and his face softens minutely. " Where are we off to then?”He strides purposefully from the room but you pause and pick up the scarf. You store it in one of the secret drawers that are scattered through-out the TARDIS and then follow Sherlock to the main room.
“It really isn’t your fault.” She says, and you can see in her eyes how much it really, truly is. “You’ve just got two hearts.”
“What do you mean, love?” You asks, her logic is escaping you as human logic often does.
“You’ve got two hearts. and that’s more then any of the rest of us.” She wipes her eyes and laughs sadly. “You have so much more love to give, and it isn’t fair of me to want to take it all. It isn’t right.”
“Mary-”
“I know-” She cuts you off forcefully-” I know that I will never be your one and only. But as long as I can be one of your onlies, I’ll be alright.”
“You don’t have to go.” You tell her, but she purses her lips and shakes her head.
“Yes, I do.” She looks up at you and her eyes are so wet and it twinges something deep inside you. “You aren’t my Doctor anymore. I’m not your Mary. I’m old. I’m just getting older.”
“Mary, I won’t forget you.” You say, and she makes a sharp noise, but she nods all the same.
“I know you won’t, Doctor. Don’t take this the wrong way,” She laughs hopelessly and it makes you want to scream, “but, I hope I do forget you. I can’t live with these memories.” You can’t read her face anymore but she sees something in yours that makes her nods again and walk away.
You keep your composure until you’re back in the TARDIS, but when you look around you, everything looks like something you’ve lost.
The gentle whooshing of your ships taking off is as beautiful as ever, but this time it has undertones of longing and failure.
Three days later- The Doctor’s time
You’ve taken a bit of a holiday and you’re in some random shop waiting your your order to be brought out. A man sits down across from you and immediately turns his focus out the window to the opposite street.
He has a great big trenchcoat, it reminds you a bit of the one you wore two regenerations ago, when you were taller and very thin and your hair always looked a bit mad. The last time you held Rose. Well, actually, you suppose, a different then-version of you is probably holding Rose right now, but it’s not the you that is sitting across from the man in the big black coat, it’s a you that stopped regenerating. The you who never liked Fez’s , who never met Amy or Mary.
“What do you think of Fez’s?” you ask the man across from you, his eyes flick to you in astonishment, but he answers mostly out of surprise.
“They’re an eyesore.” He drawls and his eyebrows furrow at his own words. “Who are you?”
“I am the Doctor.” You reply, and this current form is already mousy enough with out this great sweeping thing beside you.
“Doctor who?” He asks, and you smile at these familiar words even though it makes you think of sad things.
“Just the Doctor.” You say, and his face becomes even more irritated. “What’s your name, then?”
“My name is Sherlock Holmes.” He scowls. “What is your name?” He repeats.
“I told you, just the Doctor.” You smile, his attention is entirely focused on you and it’s a bit like being under a very bright light.
“What are you doing in this restaurant?” He asks, and he sounds far more irritated than you would expect.
“I’m on holiday. Just popping around London. It’s lovely this time of year,” you say and the both of you turn to look out the wide window.
“It’s raining.” Mr. Sherlock Holmes comments dryly, and you wonder why that name sounds so bloody familiar.
“Spot on.” You tell him, and then the waiter brings over your tea and biscuits. He brightens visibly when he spots your table-mate.
“Sherlock!” The waiter says happily and pats Sherlock heavily on the shoulder.
“Hello.” Sherlock says, his eyes never leaving your face.
“Anything you want free of cost, of course. What’ll it be?” The man asks and Sherlock’s eyes flit out the window and he sighs heavily.
“Can I have a cuppa? And maybe some of those stick biscuit things.” He rests his chin in one gloved hand and looks at you with those odd eyes. You wonder if he’s not entirely human, and you’ve had enough run-ins that you pull your sonic screw-driver out of your waist band and shine it against his forehead. He rears back slightly but holds till under your movements. Yep, he’s entirely human, just a strange one. The waiter is still watching you, but his face is still incredibly cheery.
“Looks like you’ve found someone as bonkers as you, yeah?” He says, and Sherlock slowly turns his head to gaze blankly at the man.
“Don’t you have food to make.” He says, and it should be a question, but you have no doubt in your mind that this man doesn’t ask a lot of those.
‘Right, yeah, of course. I’ll be back in a jiff.” The waiter says and turns about.
“You aren’t human.” Sherlock says to you, and he flattens his hands together, palm to finger tip and taps his index fingers against his lips.
“What makes you say that?” You ask, you haven’t met a human this bright in ages.
“Your tool is high-tech enough that my first thought is that you are from the government, but judging from the open manner in which you hold yourself leads me to believe that you think you are invincible. Were you an agent with the government you would be all too aware of your own mortality. My next thought was that you are an inventor, but you have neither the callouses, nor the posture of a man who creates mechanical inventions. You hold yourself as if you were a young boy, but your physical appearance is that of someone over the age of thirty, and if you truly were simply limber in your old age, you wouldn’t wear a jumper. At least not the one you are wearing.” Sherlock finishes by clicking his tongue and taking one small bite from his biscotti, and in your fascination with this odd, incredible creature, you had missed your order being delivered.
“That was brilliant. Bloody brilliant!” You say and add a liberal amount of milk to your tea. You try a sip and it’s really horrid, so you switch it with the table next yours. It’s only a bit milky, and the perfect amount of sweet. Sherlock is still watching you, and you think there might even be a hint of shock in his eyes.
“You’ve just stolen that man’s tea.” Sherlock observes, and you both ignore the sputtering man beside you.
“Spot on, Mr. Holmes. But I must say, you have a bit of a problem with stating the obvious.” You tease and Sherlock’s face just becomes more impassive.
“You’ve made me miss my suspect.” Sherlock ignores your previous statement and nibbles a bit more at his snack.
“Oh, a suspect. You a copper?” You ask him, and then laugh when his face pinches up. “Not a copper then. A detective?”
“Close. I am the world’s only consulting detective.” Sherlock straightens in his seat and blinks owlishly at you.
“Consulting detective. I like the sound of that.” You say and brush some crumbs from your front. “And just what is wrong with my jumper? I think it’s a fine jumper.”
“It has sequins on the wrists. It is anything but fine.” Sherlock taps his long fingers against the table three times and then jumps up and dashes out the door.
“What an odd human.” You say softly, and for a moment there you had forgotten about Mary.
Two and one half hours later- Sherlock’s time
You’ve decided you rather enjoyed the year 2011, and once you’ve finished up with a bad infestation of Carrioinites on Anathema, you decide to pop back to London just for a bit. Just to hang about, maybe pick up some milk.
For some reason your TARDIS has put you smack-down in the middle of a warehouse, and that funny human from the coffee shop is there staring at a pill in his hand. There’s another humanoid sitting across from him at a long table.
The pill is inches away from Sherlocks’ mouth, and you follow your instinct, which means rolling over the table in between you and Mr.Holmes and snatching the pill from his fingers.
You scan it, it’s filled with all kinds of primitive human poisons and this daft human was about to ingest it. Maybe he isn’t as intelligent as you originally thought, but he is a human. They can’t really help it.
“Hello, again.” You saw distractedly to the tall human,and lean over the table to scan the strange little creature with the glasses. Human. Just sort an awful. “You do know that it’s incredibly wrong to try to kill others, right?” You tell him and Sherlock lifts up the hem of your jumper (blue with snowflakes).
“You seem completely human! This isn’t logical.” Sherlock growls and prods your torso. You can’t help the little giggle that escapes and you swat the back of his head.
“Of course I’m not a bloody human.” You watch Sherlock as he stands and begins pacing and muttering. “I’m the Doctor.”
“The Doctor!” Sherlock throws his arms up. “That is not a name! Or a race!” He whirls dramatically and points a finger in your face. “You are going to take me in your ship and explain all of this to me!”
“Come on then.” You say and you’re walking around the table with your screw driver aimed for the TARDIS’ lock.
“It has a broken disguise mechanism.” Sherlock says, and he only sounds half sure, you open the door.
“Correct! How did you guess that one?” You asks and gesture for him to come inside.
“I doubt your ship is a 1960’s style police box, and therefore it was hidden in plain sight as one. But that would not be as adequate in this time-era, so one could only assume that it was stuck in this form. Therefore-” Sherlock suddenly falls silent and when you look over you see his coat tails flap around the corner.
You grin and cross your arms, he appears shortly around the other side and sweeps in to the TARDIS.
“Illogical.” He hisses as if it were a curse word and takes off down one of the hallways in your ship.
“It’s, uh, larger on the inside.” You call after him, and you hear him sigh huffily. He slinks back into the main control room and you stick your hands in your pockets and fight back a grin.
“What is this thing called?” He asks, and you can tell exactly how frustrated he is.
“This is my TARDIS. Time and relative dimension is space.” You pat one of the levers on her control system lovingly. “She’s a precious, lovely thing.”
“Can it communicate?” Sherlock asks, and holds a small magnifying glass over one of the consoles.
“Goodness, no. Well, unless she does.” You respond and then an idea strikes you. “Say, if you could go anywhere, anytime ,where and when would it be?”
“Why is that relevant?” Sherlock ask and he hasn’t stopped inspecting things still.
“Humor me. Come on then, where and when?” You are already moving feeling for the proper lever.
“Uh, the beginning of life on Earth.” Sherlock is on his back peering up at the roof of the ship and clicking a flashlight on and off at it.
“Start of Earth life, check!” You say cheerfully and began flicking switches.
Seventeen hours later- Sherlock and The Doctors time
“First human I ever met who could hold their own with Socrates.” You pat Sherlock on the shoulder heavily and he glares at you from beneath a head of wet hair. “A shame he shoved you in the river, though. And when you tried to reason with Attila the Hun! Priceless. Wish I had a mum to show pictures of that to.”
“Shut up.” Sherlock grumbles and curls up in the fetal position in one of the corners.
“Oh, come now. At the very least get out of that big old coat.” You tell him and he lets you pull the soggy thing off him. He flops back down against the wall and stares blankly at his knees. “I have to say, you could’ve been a bit more delicate with the leader of the Judoon. I thought he was going to tear your head off when you called him out on being infertile.”
“Stop talking.” Sherlock says quietly and begins peeling threads from the top edges of his socks. “Stop breathing. Go somewhere else.”
“Maybe I should drop you back at your flat.” You say without thinking, but the second the words leave your mouth you feel your throat tighten.
“That won’t be necessary. It’s obvious you haven’t been alone in this machine for long. There is evidence of at least seven people, besides yourself, living in this machine at various periods over the last thirteen years.” Sherlock looks around vaguely and then drops his head to his knees. “The last of which has only been absent for a little under a week, but they are not coming back. At least, you don’t believe that he-no,no, she will.”
“You want to,uh, stay on? Stay with me?” You ask and studiously observe the sleeve on your jumper.
Sherlock slumps his shoulders up further around his ears and sighs haughtily. “Obviously that is what I’m saying.”
“Oh.” You say cheerfully and grin over at him. “Cheers then.”
Eight months later- Doctor and Sherlock’s time
“You have a great number of clothing items in this room.” Sherlock calls from the costume room. “None of these are new and many of them seem to have had heavy usage. They belonged to past companions?”
“Correct!” You reply cheerfully and then you come around the doorway and you see that he’s got Rose’s batty rainbow scarf in his hand and he’s squinting at it. You freeze because you haven’t let yourself think about this, about her, and it’s all smacking down at one. “Put that down.” You say and your voice is unnervingly steady.
Sherlock ignores you and lifts it to his nose. “Chanel Number 5, how dull.”
“She was not dull.” You say and he looks at you in surprise. “She was extraordinary.”
He peers curiously at you then his eyes harden and he climbs up in an armchair. “If the other items that smell of Chanel Number 5 also belong to her then clearly she was an extremely dull, very plain and average girl.” He plucks at the cords in the scarf and then twists his hands so the item in question wraps around his fists. He moves his arms apart and the knitting creaks in protest.
“PUT THE BLOODY SCARF DOWN.” You roar and his eyes squint even smaller but he lets the scarf untwine from his hands and puddle on the ground. You are reaching for it before you even realize and then you’re clutching it to your heaving chest, you’re hands are shaking.
“You loved her more then you thought that a Timelord could, isn’t that right? You would have stayed with her?” Sherlock rises to his feet and stands over you. “If you loved her then where is she? Why isn’t she here? Why am I here and she isn’t?” Sherlock’s face is bright red and his hands are clutching the front of your jumper, he is so very close to you.
“There are things on this ship that are none of your bloody business.” You say, and your voice sounds cold but you are still trembling, trembling against him now because he just keeps moving closer.
“Everything about you is my business.” Sherlock’s hands smooth out from where they were furled into fists and he moves his hands to cup your jaw. The tips of his finger index finger and middle finger bracket the lobes of your ears and his thumbs brush the corners of your lips and when he inhales it feels like he’s breathing you in. “Everything you think or do or feel or have felt or will feel is my business. You are mine. My Doctor.”
“You can’t just say that, Sherlock.” You tell him but he just arches a brow and looks down into your eyes with his alien ones and you want to say that you’re seeing Rose and that’s why you drop the scarf and kiss him. But all you can see or hear or feel in this moment is Sherlock and in this moment, in this very moment you aren't sure that you’ve ever experienced anything else.
He sucks in a breath through his nose and turns your head to his mouth can slot against yours, it’s silly and human but you feel that every moment has brought you right here. You pull him as close as you can and he just fits and then of course the TARDIS shifts suddenly, he falls to the ground and one of the metal squares in the ceiling falls on him.
“Er, I suppose that means then we’re to be off to save something.” You say and pull the square off him. You help him up and Sherlock brushes a hand through the fringe on your forehead.
“You are an odd little thing." He purses his lips and his face softens minutely. " Where are we off to then?”He strides purposefully from the room but you pause and pick up the scarf. You store it in one of the secret drawers that are scattered through-out the TARDIS and then follow Sherlock to the main room.