So, this is the sequel to We're Looking For a Man Called the Doctor.

It's going to have at least five chapters. I haven't finished writing it though, so I'll let you know the definite amount of chapters later.

ENJOY :)

yes, there will be Destiel in this fic.

WG2

Clara groaned, the pillow muffling her voice. The TARDIS had been tormenting her with strange dreams all night, such vivid ones that kept her from actually getting any rest, despite the fact that she was sleeping while dreaming. Whenever she woke up, she was completely exhausted.

"Hello, Miss Oswald." The taller man spoke, using an american accent. She raised her left eyebrow slightly and looked at the FBI badges the men held out before glancing back up at the men.

"Hello?" she replied, unsure why she did so. Why were the FBI in England at her door.

Oh.

There was only one explanation, and her suspicions were confirmed as the taller one spoke.

"We're looking for a man called the Doctor."

Pulling the covers over her head, she tried to empty her mind of the dreams. They were so vivid, so detailed that they were almost like memories. Of course, the TARDIS was behind this whole thing, so it wasn't a matter of disturbing memories, no, it was a matter of an annoying time machine who had a grudge against her.

Knocking sounded on her door and she clenched her fist, wanting to get up and punch the TimeLord's face. Why couldn't he just talk to the TARDIS about not being so cruel to her? It was getting annoying.

"Go away!" she shouted, "I haven't been sleeping because your stupid snogbox won't let me sleep!"

"What just happened?" she asked. "I was in bed, reading an Amelia Williams' book, and then I'm here with everybody."

"The energy from you reading her book must have dragged you along." a man in a trench coat replied.

"What?" she asked.

"You have a certain aura around you, you were reading Amelia Williams' book, and so you were dragged along when I brought everyone here to 1938." he explained.

Clara sighed and hopped out of bed, wincing when her bare feet hit the icy-cold floor. The dreams weren't going to leave her alone, so she might as well go find the sulking Doctor and expain that she hadn't meant to be so rude, that she was just overtired from not getting the rest she needed.

However, when she opened the door, the Doctor was standing there with a dopey grin on his face, and she had to stop herself from giggling as he reached forward and pulled her into a big hug. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into the curve of his shoulder.

They let go, and the Doctor grinned down at her and bopped her nose.

"Good morning, Clara Wara!" he exclaimed. Clara hid her smile.

"You call me that ever again, and I'll burn your bowtie collection, yeah?" she replied. The Doctor looked scared, so she kissed his cheek, giggling at his stupidity. For a man who was over a thousand years, he certainly wasn't that age in his mind.

"What has gotten into you, chinboy?" she laughed when he started to bounce up and down. His smile widened into a toothy grin and she felt a sudden urge to just kiss him. Kiss him like her life depended on it. She could feel her lips and heart dragging her toward him, and her mind and common sense away from him. It was a normal everyday struggle for her, one she felt whenever she was near him.

"It's a beautiful day out in space, Clara! It's your birthday back on earth, too! November 23rd."

"What year are we in?" Clara asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"2014."

"You skipped a year to celebrate my birthday, even though we just celebrated it two weeks ago? In 2013?"

"Of course!" the Doctor replied, his face breaking out in joy, "Saving Gallifrey wasn't what I had planned for your birthday, so I'm giving you a proper holiday."

Clara giggled. "You do know that the birthday I had two weeks ago was the best one I'd ever had? The brilliance that you three versions displayed. It was amazing. I missed seeing the tenth of you, anyway."

"Oy." the Doctor snapped, but Clara could see the amusement in his eyes. She leaned up and hugged him again, kissing his cheek softly. She felt his skin start to flush, and she giggled.

Dean looked up from his book and looked over at Sam, who was typing into his laptop furiously. Sam didn't remember a thing about last week, and some instances in the past couple of months. Anything related to the Doctor or Clara was completely wiped from his memory, and Dean wondered if he himself was forgetting some things.

He'd asked Cas about it, but the angel couldn't explain it, and he had confirmed Dean's suspicions, that Dean had forgotten some things as well.

So Dean had mentioned a couple of things about the detectives and the Ponds, and the weeping angels, and Sam had just looked at him like he was going off the deep end.

Dean had called Sherlock to see if the detective had forgotten anything. Sherlock said that his and John's memories were fine, but suggested he call the Doctor.

After punching in the numbers into his phone, Dean had called the time machine. Clara had answered, her voice familiar.

"You've reached the TARDIS, Clara Oswald speaking."

"Clara? It's Dean." he gave his name and hoped she remembered him.

"Who?"

His heart had sunk.

"Give the phone to the Doctor, please." he'd requested. He had heard soft voices in the background on the other side of the phone, Clara telling the Doctor that it was some guy called Dean.

"Dean? Is that you?" the Doctors voice crackled into Dean's ear, and he had sighed in relief.

"Oh thank the stars it's you, Doctor. Sam can't remember anything, I can remember most of it but not all of it. Cas can't even remember everything. Sherlock and John are fine as far as I know."

"Clara, I think I left my screwdriver in the kitchen." the Doctor was talking to Clara, and Dean waited. "No, when we were attempting to make soufflés. No, she will not send flour dropping over you like last time. Yes, I promise."

Dean waited a few more seconds.

"Dean, Clara can't remember everything. The TARDIS remembers everything, and told me that I've forgotten a few things too."

"So what happened?" Dean asked, hoping the alien would have some answers, because a friggin' angel of the lord didn't have them.

"I don't know. It might be timelines overlapping that shouldn't have, so the memories slipped away. If that's the case, we'd better stay away from each other until we know more." the Doctor replied, his voice shaky. Dean closed his eyes and nodded before realizing the alien couldn't see him.

"Will do. Goodbye, Doctor."

"Goodbye, Dean."

Dean was broken out of his thoughts when Sam snapped his fingers, making him jump. He glared at Sam.

"The bones are in Battenfield Cemetary. I'll grab the bag, you start the impala."

"No, I'll take care of the bones."

"What?" Sam asked, giving Dean an incredulous look. Dean shrugged.

"Got a lot on my mind, Sammy. I need some time to think without my snot-nosed little brother around. Nothing like digging into a grave and burning bones to help the thinking process, either."

Sam hesitated, but let out a long sigh before closing his laptop and folding his arms.

"Fine."

Dean was out of the bunker and on the road within five minutes.

There was a very different feeling entering his body than what Sherlock Holmes was ever used to. He smiled down at the tiny newborn in his arms, some instinct making his body rock her back and forth slowly, and she looked up at him with large brown eyes. His heart swelled as she yawned, and he heard Mary coo from where she was laying in the hospital bed. The baby Sherlock was holding was Mary and John's, Mary having just given birth to the baby.

The baby was falling asleep, and Sherlock didn't know what to do, so he glanced up at her parents anxiously. Mary looked worn but overjoyed, and John looked amused.

His phone rang.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and gently handed the baby over to Mary, who soon settled the baby into her arms and cooed softly. John gave Sherlock a seriously? look, and Sherlock could only shrug as he answered his cell and left the hospital room, going down the corridor to the corner. He turned to the left and brought the phone to his ear.

"Sherlock?" a familiar grating voice on the other end made the detective's eyebrows furrow in confusion. He heard the door to Mary's room open behind him, and John's footsteps sounding behind.

"It's Dean. We have a problem."

"What is it, Dean? I'm busy." he snapped, glancing around to look at John, who was waiting by the door with a we're waiting look on his face.

"Remember the angels?"

Sherlock heard John walk up and saw the former army doctor at his side, giving him a glare.

"Is something with Castiel?" Sherlock asked, keeping his eyes away from John's. No doubt John Watson was giving him an incredulous look.

"Cas is fine. I mean the weeping ones."

Sherlock stiffened and stared ahead, his head subconsciously moving up a bit. He saw John lose his glare in the corner of his eye, and instead look interested at Sherlock's sudden dark demeanor.

"Yeah, well…I'm looking at three of them now. I'd call Sam, but he can't remember anything, so he's sort of unhelpful." Dean continued.

"Don't take your eyes off them, Dean. I'll get the Doctor." Sherlock replied quickly, giving his instructions.

"Just…hurry up." Dean said, and Sherlock realized the hunter's voice was shaky from cold, it was shaking from fear. He hung up and turned to John, who was looking concerned now.

"What's wrong with Dean?" he asked.

"He's surrounded by Weeping Angels," Sherlock explained. John's eyes went wide, and he shifted on his feet.

"Better call the Doctor."

Sherlock nodded, already pushing the buttons on his phone.

Wings sounded behind Dean, and he closed his eyes tightly, ignoring the burn as Cas winged him from the weeping angels to the outside of the bunker. He thanked Cas and almost got lost in the angel's eyes, but shook himself out of it.

"Sherlock's getting ahold of the Doctor."

Kind of a short chapter, I know. The next chapters will be longer, I promise. :) Remember to comment and follow if you liked it!

3 WG2