~Two Years in the Future~

A man in a black leather motorbike jacket and a blue striped scarf walked hesitantly down Baker Street. He'd parked his bike around the corner because he didn't want to be heard or noticed. His shined dress shoes clicked against the sidewalk because he couldn't bring himself to buy biker boots. He stole a deep breath and stopped just outside of 221b.

He straightened his jacket, flashing a purple dress shirt because his old habits were hard to break. He examined himself in the window of Speedy's, tucking back a few unruly dark curls. He felt almost sick from nerves. Three long years without seeing his street, his flat, and his flatmate. Sherlock wasn't sure of the reaction he would receive but as long as John didn't fire a bullet through him, he thought it would be a success. Another deep, reassuring breath filled his lungs before he built up the courage to open the door.

He walked into the building, shutting the door behind him, and looked around. Everything seemed to be the same, as if he never left, but something he couldn't see was different. It may have been a feeling in the air or the blaring silence that screamed around him; he wasn't sure and that unnerved him. He sighed, just to hear a sound, and glanced up at the door of his flat. He walked over it to it, uncertain if he wanted John to be in or not, and knocked.

The knock resonated through the building and his body. Long after his knuckles left the door, he could hear it. The volume of it hurt as much as the wait. A minute passed with no answer and Sherlock's resolve began to disperse. He couldn't hear anything coming from the other side of the door, no footsteps or the rustling of life, so he turned his sight to the door with 221a on the front.

If John wasn't in, Mrs. Hudson would have to do. She may know where his flatmate ran off to. He strode up to her door and knocked, hearing her footsteps shuffling across the floor just seconds after. He waited and watched the doorknob turn, the door opening just enough for an eye to peek through. Sherlock watched as the lone eye on the other side of the door widened in fear at the sight of him. Fear wasn't what he was going for but anything was better than anger.

The door flew open to reveal Mrs. Hudson, standing as far away from the threshold as possible while still holding on to the door. Sherlock smiled, his expression pained as he flinched under the weight of his own thoughts and assumptions.

"Hello, Mrs. Hudson," he said, worried she would cry or hit him. Or both.

The fear in her eyes transformed into shock as she stared more closely at the man in her doorway. "Sherlock?" Sherlock, dear, is that you?"

"Yes. I'm, er, back!" He tugged at the hem of his jacket as he spoke.

She clapped a hand to her mouth, tears shining as they gathered in her eyes. She stepped out into the main room and threw her arms around Sherlock's lanky frame, catching him off guard. If he expected anything, it certainly wasn't that. When she was finished, she held him at arm's length, looking him up and down in disbelief.

"I just… We thought… You're supposed to be dead," she said, voicing all of her thoughts at once.

"I had to stay dead for the safety of everyone connected to me but it's safe for me to return now."

The sorrow in Mrs. Hudson's face at that statement was indescribable. She dropped her arms as her features drooped. She couldn't meet Sherlock's eyes. "It's not as safe as you think, dear."

His nose crinkled as he frowned. "What do you…" He paused, remembering something. "Where's John?"

Mrs. Hudson's sadness seemed to deepen, folding in on herself like a black hole of grief. Sherlock shifted his weight between his feet, expressing his uneasiness at her reaction.

"Has he moved?" Sherlock asked, hoping that was the problem because his landlady's expression didn't allow for much hope.

"Not exactly."

His heart dropped from his body while his stomach twisted and turned in his gut. "He is still alive, isn't he?"

She nodded. His body relaxed until she spoke again.

"If you can call it living."

He looked over at the door of his old flat and back at Mrs. Hudson. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She bit her bottom lip, deciding whether to answer or not. She shook her head and looked away from him, staring hard at the door of her own flat, thinking about running. It would've been so much easier to run but she stayed and looked up at him.

"It's difficult to explain. It's best if I just show you."

Sherlock swallowed hard and nodded. He was nervous about what Mrs. Hudson had to show him but he needed to know, even if it broke his heart. His landlady opened the front door and tentatively stepped out onto the paved ground with Sherlock at her heels.

They didn't have far to walk before Sherlock saw what she had been talking about. They traveled down the street to the first intersection and she pointed out a billboard he somehow missed in his initial flurry of emotion. He followed where she pointed and his jaw dropped. Hundreds of thoughts, feelings, and questions ran through him at once, causing him to short-circuit.

"Oh," he managed to say.

In that exact moment, a blue box coasted past the planet Earth with a lone being inside. That being, the Doctor, gazed upon the blue-green planet teeming with life from the screen attached to the TARDIS console. He knew the Master was down there. He knew the moment the Master escaped from the Time Lock. He felt it so deeply that it shook his DNA.

As he stared at Earth, he considered leaving him there for the briefest half-second but it lasted long enough to scold himself for thinking it at all. For as long as he could remember, the Master had been his responsibility. Whatever he was up to on the Doctor's adopted planet, it wasn't good and he needed to stop him. The Doctor, in his TARDIS, straightened his bowtie and flew in for a landing.