AN /: Alright, here it is, the one you've all been waiting for! It's the last chapter as well, so I hope everybody has enjoyed this little project, which has just gotten so much more attention than I ever bargained for. As for the ending, well. I just couldn't resist. Thank you all for reading, reviewing, favouriting, and putting this story on alert and all that, it means the world to me.

O.o.O.o.O

The Angel, The Detective, And The Phone Box

Ch 6. Mortality, And All It Entails

Even though the lights are off for a total of two seconds, to John it feels like it is dark for an eternity. He fires his gun once, blind, in the hope that it will do something, but instead he hears the bullet rip through the wall.

He is living in slow motion, his life playing like a film reel behind his eyes, bright against the darkness. There are snippets of his childhood, memories of his time in Afghanistan, the sounds of bullets and cries of pain, the smell of blood and metal, the sight of sand and explosions, a few fleeting memories of blissfully normal dates with Sarah, and finally, Sherlock. Every case, every chase, every escape and every arrest, they roll into one infinite memory that lasts all of a split second.

There is a rustling and he feels his gun pushed aside faster than physically possible, his arms flung apart, and he loses his grip on both the torch and his gun and hears them crash against the wall. It all happens too quickly for him to properly think about what is happening, but all he knows is that he is about to die. He has survived Afghanistan, been shot, narrowly avoided explosions, narrowly avoided being shot again, escaped from the clutches of a psychopath, and now he is going to me killed by an alien that looks like it has stepped out of hell, and is from outer space to boot. Oddly enough, he never thought that it would end this way.

A light somewhere to his right flickers on, and John feels relieved that he isn't dead yet. And then the relief rapidly changes to fear, and he has to let out a terrified yell because there is an angel staring into his face, its mouth gaping open and its stone fangs bared. His gaze drops automatically to its feet, not because he remembers the Doctors warning, but because it feels like its gaze is sucking out his soul. Behind him he hears both Amy and Rory scream, and he is relieved to know that they are alive.

"JOHN!"

He hears the panicked yell, and it's certainly from Sherlock. He hears footsteps, and suddenly a hand is grabbing his arm, pulling to get his attention.

"John, are you alright?" Sherlock asks, and John hears an undercurrent of rare fear in his voice.

"Yeah, fine,' John replies in a strangled voice, which is a total lie but he's trying to reassure himself as much as anyone else, and when he peers at Sherlock out of the corner of his eye he sees panic in the man's eyes to match his voice. It is a strangely intimate moment the second their gazes lock, and it is a little uncomfortable. John clears his throat and Sherlock gets the message, taking a step back and looking a less worried.

Now to focus on the task at hand. He has been trying to avoid it for as long as he can, but now he has to focus on the fact that the angel had been reaching for his neck. Its stone hands have, in fact, just begun to curl, and although he can slip through its grasp easily enough, it takes a phenomenal amount of self control not to panic. He takes a step back and feels stone glide across his throat. It is only the tips of the fingers that give him trouble because they have just begun to curl and they press into his skin. When he is sure that he is free he lets out a sigh of relief, and backs away as quickly as he can.

The Doctor is now holding the torch that Sherlock had been carrying before, holding it at chest height. His expression is indescribable, and the light illuminates only half of his face.

"We found the crystal,' Sherlock says, his moment of panic gone and his calm tone of voice back,' so I suggest we leave, now."

"Brilliant idea, I totally agree,' the Doctor replies, handing the first torch back to Sherlock before going over to pick up the torch that John had dropped and holding the sonic screwdriver to the bulb. It flickers meekly but returns back to full power, and the Doctor hands it over to Rory. John goes to pick up his gun, and as he slips it under his jacket and into the waistband of his jeans he notices the disdainful look on the Doctor's face.

"Alright gentlemen, lets hold hands and get the hell out of here." Amy says. She is still pale but no longer looks shaken. Now there is a glint in her eye and excitement in her voice, and maybe just a hint of enthusiasm.

Once again John reaches for Sherlock's hand, and this time it feels like Sherlock is squeezing tighter than strictly necessary. With his other hand he holds his hand out to Amy, who in turn holds her hand out, and Rory beats the Doctor to her. The Doctor is left to grab Rory and Sherlock's hands, and Sherlock looks as if he is not quite sure what to make of this.

They walk out the door one by one, and it appears that the angels have been expecting them. There are five, surrounding the bottom of the staircase, staring upwards with their hands by their sides.

"Well, this isn't making things much easier,' Rory says.

"There's still enough space to get past them, we just need to keep our eyes peeled,' the Doctor says, and then he raises his voice to address the angels,' you're not getting it, do you hear me? I'm going to take it somewhere you can never get to it and you can just wait here forever."

A chill shoots down Johns spine as he walks down the stairs, getting closer to the angels than he would really like. After a quick look at the Doctor and a split second battle of wills, Sherlock rather forcefully pulls both the Doctor and John under the arms of the angels. John keeps his eyes clapped on each one they pass.

Once they are past the angels the Doctor takes the lead and pulls them through the hallway, past already open doors and out into the gardens. No-one speaks as the Doctor guides them towards a far off corner of the garden, and John begins to wonder why they are making a beeline towards the blue police box that he had seen earlier. The circle breaks as the Doctor lets go of Sherlock and Rory to fish around in his jacket pocket, withdrawing a pair of keys which he slips into a hidden lock in the blue door.

"Is this the spaceship you said you had earlier,' Sherlock begins in a very unimpressed tone,' because it looks a lot like a..."

He trails off as the Doctor opens the door, and all John can do is gape. The inside of the police box didn't look how it should have looked. It looked bigger. Much bigger. And it was warm, bathed in a soft golden light. A hand on the small of his back shoves him inside, and he stumbles into the large room, still staring as the door closes behind him and the Doctor stands beside him.

"So, what do you think?" The Doctor asks.

"It's bigger on the inside,' John says,' how is it bigger on the inside?"

"Quantum physics?" Sherlock guesses from beside him, but it's a half hearted guess and Sherlock is already walking up to the control panel, under the control panel, and then around the edges of the massive room with a hand out to feel the metal as he goes.

"How about we get you two home,' the Doctor says calmly, although he is trying his best to hide a rather large grin,' let me guess, 221b Baker Street?"

"Yep,' John says, still staring. He blinks a few times and then walks up to the control panel. Well, it looks a lot like a control panel anyway. The Doctor is dashing about madly, pulling levers and pushing buttons like he knows exactly what each of them do, and John just leans back and watches him work with the same awe he usually gives to Sherlock's deductions. Suddenly there is a very loud sound like nothing he's ever heard before, a sort of whirring and grating that reverberates through his body and makes him feel warm and comforted, and then the whole room shifts to the left and John is sent sprawling. He stumbles about and ends up crashing into Rory, and both men apologise profusely and try to pull themselves back up.

"Sorry about that,' the Doctor says, taking a small black stone, probably the crystal that they were looking for, out of his pocket and putting it into a small compartment that has popped out of the base of the control panel, then standing up and leaving against one of the railings,' she's a temperamental old thing." He runs a hand over the railing lovingly.

"So this is a spaceship, then." John says, trying to reaffirm the facts in his mind.

"Yep,' the Doctor says,' called the TARDIS, T.A.R.D.I.S, stands for time and relative dimensions in space. And it's bigger on the inside."

"And it's taking us home?"

"It could take you home yesterday or last year if you want, it's a time machine, not just a space ship."

"That's amazing."

"I think she likes you."

John grins. He'd always had a bit of a weakness for sci-fi shows on the telly, but this is just taking the cake. Without warning there is another jolt, and there is the faint sound of splashing water. John stumbles forwards, narrowly avoiding being hit on the head by the console.

"Are you sure she likes me?" he asks as he stares through the grate below for a few seconds before righting herself.

"She's an old thing,' the Doctor says,' she's just being temperamental."

"A bit like Sherlock then,' John says, then frowns,' actually, where's Sherlock gotten to?"

Right on cue Sherlock reappears from behind doors that John hadn't seen before, and he has to stifle a laugh because Sherlock is absolutely sopping wet, his hair plastered to his face and his coat transformed into a miniature water feature dripping trails of water from the hem.

"I fell in the swimming pool." He says before anyone can ask.

"Is the library still there?" The Doctor asks.

"Yes it is,' Sherlock says, his tone rather miffed,' I almost tripped over a copy of the Raxacoricofallipatorian dictionary on my way out."

"You're one of the first people I've ever met to pronounce that right the first time around,' the Doctor notes, and the his face turns thoughtful,' um... would you like a towel?"

"A towel would be nice, yes,' Sherlock admits, and it's the most humble John's ever seen him.

Five minutes later sees Sherlock wrapped in the fluffiest white towel that John has ever laid eyes on, sans coat and scarf, and he looks utterly ridiculous. It's worse than the shock blanket, and John wishes dearly that he could take a picture, Lord knows he'd need the picture for blackmail every time Sherlock decides the fridge is an acceptable place to store body parts. Right now he is standing next to Sherlock and leaning against the railings that run around the control panel. Amy and Rory have disappeared under the control panel and the Doctor is dashing around, twisting knobs, pulling levers, and John has long since given up trying to work out what any of them do. Despite how busy he is the Doctor is chatting animatedly with Sherlock, and the two of them are getting along like old friends.

"Ooh, we're here,' the Doctor says as John hears the funny grating noise. Sherlock looks disappointed, and he actually pouts, just a little bit.

"You're only taking us home? I though you said this was a space ship!" Sherlock protests.

"And a time machine." Rory adds, his voice drifting up from below.

"Can't you take us somewhere?" Sherlock prompts.

"I suppose I could,' the Doctor says as he leans back against the console,' where do you have in mind? The Victorian era?"

"What? No, that would be boring,' Sherlock says,' what about another planet?"

"You're just trying to make Mycroft jealous, aren't you." John says with a smile and Sherlock hushes him but can't hold back a grin.

"I guess I could,' the Doctor says, and it appears the excitement is contagious,' yeah, why not? Right! So, we need a planet!"

"What about that one with the green sky, and the people that look like goldfish with dragon wings?" Amy asks as she walks up the stairs, Rory trailing behind her.

"Ah, I remember that one,' the Doctor says, already beginning to work with the dials and a few switches,' the food is absolutely brilliant, and the royal family owes me a few favours."

"What are the crime rates?" Sherlock asks.

"How about we sightsee instead?" John says more forcefully.

"Sightseeing at the planet of green skies and dragon-winged fish people it is,' Amy says, grinning from ear to ear,' oh, this is great, I'm going sightseeing with Sherlock Holmes !"

Sherlock seems a little disappointed but otherwise more excited than John has ever seen him. He can't stop smiling, and his enthusiasm is bordering on manic. Somehow he still manages to seem dignified, though.

There is another thud and this time John only just loses his footing, but he has had the good sense to hang onto the railing and manages to stay upright. The Doctor only just manages to finish announcing their arrival before Sherlock darts down the stairs and throws open the doors, striding outside into... somewhere, into wherever they happen to be.

John walks down behind the Doctor and stares out at the green sky, completely cloudless and sporting an extra sun. With a great amount of courage and a rather painful pinch to make sure he isn't dreaming, he steps outside and sees soft, blue, seaweed-like grass underfoot and stretching out for miles. He takes a deep breath. The air is so clear it makes his head spin.

"Are you going to stand there or are you going to come out and experience the universe?" Amy asks, pushing past him.

"I pick the universe, obviously." John says, walking forwards, scanning the horizon for Sherlock, pinching himself again and definitely, definitely, never looking back.

The End