A/N: So thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed/followed/favourite my little old story that was last years summer project :') This is indeed the final chapter and I hope that no one is disappointed with the ending! Enjoy :)

I'm coming with the watch.

-SH

The Doctor approached the main store of weaponry in the army base with a Sherlockian stride in his step, his cheekbones salient and the collar of the black trench coat turned up. It was almost like the consulting detective was there in person.

Upon entering the store, he was lead by his guide, a cleanly shaven man with a straight back and a desire for saluting to every person he passed in the corridors. The hallways were an unearthly white, and there was an almost ethereal atmosphere that could be cut with a knife. The smell of meticulous cleanliness pervaded the air and inside each doorway there were security checks and an armed guard in the same green khaki uniform that the others wore. The Doctor also detected a certain readiness in them. Their shoulders were stiff and tense, their grey eyes darted back and forth, the light on their communicators was continuously flashing; they were waiting for something to happen and it could only mean danger.

Much like Jim, the Doctor was led into a white room, the door locked behind him. "I have the watch," he said with a certain quiver escaping into his usually stiff voice.

"Place it on the table," an electronic voice echoed cleanly about the room. Immediately, a tiny white table popped up from the floor.

"What will you do with it?" he asked after a short pause, surveying the room, hands carefully placed behind his back.

"It is none of your concern, Mr Holmes. If you just place the watch on the table, the door will open for you soon after." He did as he was told and put the watch on the miniature table. As was promised, the door opened immediately. Using his long legs to their maximum potential, he held the door open with his toe and began doing something strange.

The Doctor curiously started typing in mid air. Tapping sounds reverberated off the walls. As he gradually got faster and faster, the room changed colour and the real identity of the room was revealed. The Doctor wasn't typing on invisible air any longer, rather on silver panels, stationed at regular intervals about the room, which was now bigger and much more alien like.

"What are you doing, Mr Holmes?" the voice snapped, but no figure appeared.

"I'm saving every single person's life that is in danger right now. And you know who I'm doing it for? Doctor John Watson. Because that man, that man, was a saint. Brilliant, he was. That man saved lives in ways that he didn't know, ways that he'll never know. The most human, human being ever to exist and he didn't know it. He never knew how much potential energy was stored in his soul. All it needed was a spark to light the touch paper. That spark was Sherlock Holmes. So I'm doing this for John – and Sherlock – for the life they have led and the life they should be leading."

"How does this concern us?"

The Doctor didn't reply. Within half a minute sirens were wailing and a red warning light flashed above his head. "Time to get out of here, I think? You shouldn't have let me press all those buttons. Run. Run for your lives."

"You can... you can come with us, you know," the Doctor said, a regretful look upon his face. "I can travel through space and time. You and me and Molly. It would be brilliant."

Brilliant.

A small smile materialised on Mrs Hudson's face and the Doctor returned it sadly. John's word. She shook her head gently, unable to meet the Doctor's speckled golden eyes. He was too much like Sherlock and it was therefore too painful.

"I understand," he said, smiling sympathetically. "He was a good man, Mrs Hudson. I know."

"Yeah," she whispered, waves of emotion momentarily overcoming her, her eyes welling up with tears. Finally she looked him in the eye and reached her hand out weakly to touch the Doctor's - Sherlock's - cheek for the last time. In that moment he was there in the flesh with her.

The Doctor stood patiently, smiling down into the old lady's eyes. The eyes that had seen so much in the past day. The eyes that saw the end of her two sons. The eyes that were soon to be closed eternally. The moment was gone almost as soon as it came; Mrs Hudson withdrew her hand and looked down to the floor. "Bye, then," she smiled.

"Goodbye, Mrs Hudson," he whispered and turned his back, striding out of 221B for the last time. He saw Molly leant up against the side of his little blue box, a sorrowful smile withering her usually elated features. She sensed that he needed consoling and stepped forwards to embrace him in a comforting, soothing hug. "That was the hardest thing I have ever done," he whispered in her ear, taking in a tearful breath. Slowly, she nodded into his shoulder but didn't say anything. They disbanded from the embrace and she took his hand firmly, leading him into the TARDIS.

Mrs Hudson watched the blue box disappear forever with a deep sadness that filled her from her toenails to the top of her head. The real truth was that she couldn't live everyday knowing that John wasn't with Sherlock. 'Sherlock and John' didn't even exist anymore.

A sad smile melted onto her wrinkled face; Sherlock hugging Molly was quite something. Sherlock hugging anything was quite something. Although it wasn't Sherlock, it was this Doctor that she'd been hearing about. Sherlock and the Doctor were very similar. Both were lonely angels, their destinies to live a life apart from others. Both had escaped the path that had been laid before them and gone off on a side road; found happiness and people to be with.

So if the Doctor was who he said he was, and Mrs Hudson didn't doubt that, then he would save the day. But nothing gets you nothing, everything comes at a price. Two lives for one. Sherlock and John for the Doctor.

"That's the story of my boys." She sighed to herself before turning and walking slowly, laboriously, up to their flat. She sat herself down on John's plaid chair and sighed with great burden. Her eyes closed for the last time. "And that's how it ended."

The sound of a low metallic siren sliced through the air as a blue box materialised on the top of a sand bank. The thin doors swung open with a loud creak to reveal a man with unruly locks of ebony hair and golden speckles in his sky blue eyes. He was clad in a dapper silver suit with a light blue tie.

"Afghanistan!" he shouted excitedly. "Twenty-fifth century if I'm not mistaken. It was the wind direction and the sand patterns that gave it away." He smiled cockily at the dark haired girl who stepped confidently out behind him.

"Wait, are you sure it's safe, Doctor?" she asked timidly, narrowing her eyes at him. "You know. There was a war right here in the present."

"Absolutely positive. This country is the most peaceful place in... oh." He stopped suddenly. Behind them was an army base. "Twenty first century. Always get it wrong. We'd better leave quickly, Molly. It's not too safe around here and, judging by the cloud formation and the worried look on that soldier's face something is going to happen soon. Very soon. Come on." He tugged on Molly's knitted sleeve but she wouldn't - couldn't - budge. "We need to go."

"But look," she whispered, squinting towards the soldier that the Doctor had pointed out. "Look closely at his face."

The Doctor's mouth opened to say something but he couldn't think of anything to say except-

"John Watson."

The soldier walked laboriously nearer to them, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"But it's John." The two time travellers were still open mouthed. It had been two months since Molly saw him last. And she'd completely forgotten about him.

"Excuse me," the man said, his back as straight as a rod, his gun now pointing at them cautiously. "Do you two have any right to be here?"

"Oh no, we were just... passing by," the Doctor managed to stutter. Although he was a different man, he still remembered all of those emotions that Sherlock had locked away during the two years when he was someone else. "We'll be gone soon, actually."

"Good," the man replied. He had now lowered his gun which was, quite frankly, a relief. "It's just that we're expecting an attack any minute now so you might want to get back to your... bunker." He gestured at the TARDIS.

"Yeah. Good idea. Actually, you might want to just come in with us? I mean, there's gonna be a bomb and the chances of survival are pretty slim," the Doctor offered. John Watson didn't need to contemplate it for a single moment.

"No," he answered sturdily. "I've got friends in that place and they rely on my orders. I've got to stay. Anyway, how would all three of us physically fit inside that tiny thing?"

"Well..." the Doctor started.

"Thanks, mate, but no thanks. Have a nice day," he winked at Molly and turned his back.

"John Watson, isn't it?" Molly called to him. Immediately he spun around and turned his gaze on her, his eyebrows furrowed.

"How do you know my name?"

"Just a lucky guess," she backtracked, although she was internally screaming. Two years down the line this man will be dead.

"I don't believe in luck. Brilliant though, whatever you did," he replied.

"Good luck, John. I hope you're going to have a lucky few hours."

"As I said, I don't believe in luck," he said, a half smile appeared on his face. "But thanks, anyway, whoever you are."

And he turned away for the last time. Molly could feel the tears rising in her eyes before the Doctor pulled her back into the TARDIS. As soon as the whirring noise began John turned around, curious as to what trick those strange people would pull out of the bag this time. But the thing was, they weren't there. That little blue box wasn't there. It was like nothing had been there in the first place. Maybe they hadn't been there, John thought. Maybe they were a figment of his blurred imagination from the sultry heat. He chuckled as he held the gun in his hand once again, a true soldier. Soon after, the screech of shells pierced his ears and he immediately set about relaying the news back to base. Than he ran as fast as he could. He ran back to be the doctor. The brilliant John Watson ran back to save lives.

THE END

Hello again! I hope you enjoyed it! Just a reminder that it takes, like, five seconds to review and it would meant he world to me if you could tap down your thoughts for me! Also, there's a lot more where this came from so you can check out my other stories if you want to! Thank you my lovely viewers!