Introduction:

Here we are with our second episode at last! The previous disclaimers apply: we own nothing but our fantasies, and we regret nothing, either. Enjoy!

==Chapter One==

221B Or Not 221B

We're falling through space, you and me, clinging to the skin of this tiny little world, and if we let go... That's who I am.

The Doctor was not thinking about Martha Jones's refusal. Nope, not even a little bit, because he couldn't blame her for it. But as much as he couldn't blame her, he also needed… someone. Anyone. The TARDIS did her absolute best to keep him from going insane, but she did understand, at least somewhat, that a linear being had to have the company of another linear being.

She was actually the one who had talked him into this trip.

He'd hesitated at first, protested that any offers he could make would likely not be altogether welcome, but she overrode all protests and, in the end, set off for their current destination. And now, with her materialising into that particular time and place, he couldn't deny that he was excited to be here.

He cracked the door open and poked his head out, taking a deep breath of the damp, chilly air. "Ah, 1895! Wonderful year…"

He grinned at the muffled sound of someone running down a flight of stairs from the house on the other side of the street. The front door burst open, revealing a broadly grinning Sherlock Holmes. "Doctor!"

The Doctor beamed back. "…wonderful people," he finished. "Sherlock Holmes!" He covered the street in a couple of quick strides and grabbed the detective up in a hug. "You'd think it'd been two years for me instead of two weeks. How are you?!"

Holmes returned the hug, laughing. "All the better for seeing you again, my dear sir." His grin faded as memory flooded his grey eyes. "I must admit, returning to the slow path was far more difficult than I had anticipated."

The Doctor didn't stop smiling. "Ohhhh, I'm sure you've been brilliant—'fact, I know it! Read it, y'know!" He winked, eliciting a slightly rueful smile from the detective, whose face quickly brightened again.

"Thankfully, I have not walked that path alone. Doctor, there is someone I should very much like you to meet…" He turned towards the door, and the Doctor heard hasty but slower footsteps in the hall.

"I swear, Holmes," declared an exasperated voice from within the house, "one of these days you're going to break your neck on these stairs! That booth isn't about to grow wings and fly off, for heaven's sake!"

Holmes was valiantly struggling not to laugh at the innocent remark, shoulders shaking slightly. The Doctor didn't bother to keep his grin from splitting his face. "Doctor John H. Watson! Molto bene!"

Watson appeared in the doorway, curiosity—a writer's curiosity—overcoming exasperation in his expression as he took in the sight of the TARDIS. His hazel eyes fell upon the Doctor a moment later, and he gave a friendly smile, coupled with a bow. "Ah, good evening, sir!"

The Doctor beamed again. "Dr. Watson… so good to finally meet you! Read all your stories—" he successfully resisted the urge to wink again at Holmes—"brilliant stuff!" Out of the corner of his eye, he noted Holmes's indulgent smile.

Watson beamed back, his expression pleasantly surprised. Goodness, Holmes was right: Watson really was easy to read—so very open and unguarded in his emotions. "Thank you, sir," said Watson, "you're very kind!" He offered his hand, which the Doctor shook firmly. "Whom do I have the honour of meeting?"

The Time Lord flicked a grin at Holmes. "Oh, I'm the Doctor."

The hazel eyes were darting back and forth between his friend and the newcomer, brow furrowing slightly… He was visibly curious at the lack of a name, though the smile never faltered. "Holmes, is this a friend of yours?"

Holmes smiled back, nodding. "The Doctor and I first encountered each other two years ago, whilst I was in Tibet." The smile faded again. "I must confess, Doctor, I had not expected to see you again quite so… soon." Nice little oblique reference to my timeline, Sherlock, well done… "I hope nothing is amiss?"

The Doctor had, himself, sobered to a quiet smile. "Ohhh, 'm not doing so bad… Maybe we can talk upstairs? And some explanations can be made?"

The flatmates exchanged glances, and Holmes nodded slowly. "By all means, my dear sir. Watson, would you be so good as to ask Mrs Hudson for some light refreshment? I strongly suspect we shall be needing it."

Watson echoed the nod, looking all business-as-usual. "Of course, Holmes. After you, Doctor." He gestured at the door, and the Doctor couldn't help grinning again, this time in thanks.

He was all but bouncing with excitement as he stepped into the famous old house, flashing an excited grin over his shoulder at Holmes. He hung his overcoat in the hall, respectful of Victorian manners, paused at the seventeen steps, feeling like a Holmesian having his best dream come true. Then he reverently climbed the stairs and entered the sitting room, studying it with a child's delight—that was the only way to enjoy something as brilliant as this. "Lovely place you have here."

From behind him, Holmes said, "You are too kind, Doctor—please excuse the clutter." He cleared a stack of newspapers off the settee and ended up dropping them behind his armchair.

The Doctor snorted in amusement—messy boy. "Holmes, c'mon: you've seen the inside of…" He nodded at the TARDIS out the window and took a seat on the settee.

Holmes's lips twitched in response. He seated himself in his armchair and eyed the Doctor speculatively. "Is there anything you wish to tell me, Doctor, before Watson returns?"

The Doctor's grin froze on his face, reminded all too soon and too sharply of his loneliness. "Two weeks, Holmes," he said quietly: "two weeks alone and just one day—just one day—of working with somebody else." He shook his head, not breaking eye contact, trying hard to drive his point home. "I can't do it." He grimaced slightly. "I literally cannot do it."

Holmes's lips pressed together, brow furrowed in concern. "Somehow," he murmured, "I suspected this was not merely a social visit…" He sat forward and said gently, "May I ask what happened?"

The Doctor shook his head more slowly, looking away, afraid that if he gazed too long at Holmes's sympathetic expression, he'd break down. Again. And he was not going there this time. "Not much to tell. Been hopping here and there, landed back in the early twenty-first century, had an adventure with a promising medical student…" He'd quickly taken a shine to Martha, too, and he'd fancied, at the time, that the feeling had been mutual… "She didn't want to come," he said softly.

He finally summoned up the courage to return his gaze to Holmes and make one strong supplication. "That was a few days ago, aaand…" He gave a slight, self-deprecatory laugh. "Just in case you were wondering, I really haven't slept since then… So many years of stopping the bad guys… it gives you too many demons to handle…" His eyes were pleading what he was afraid to say: Come with me.

Holmes appeared decidedly tempted but hesitated. "Doctor… are you certain about this? My hiatus has come to an end, it is true, but given what you have told me about my timeline, Watson's timeline…" He spread his hands and said softly, "For I would certainly never consider leaving him behind… not again…"

The Doctor gazed at him sadly. "I would never dream of asking that of you. Holmes, I can return you two to this exact point in Time—here on the evening of November the twentieth, and I can do it from any point in Time. I haven't forgotten what I said about you not coming with me. But look at the two of you! Two of the best vigilantes in the history of mankind, one of whom actually went up against Dalek abominations from the Time War and survived."

Holmes inclined his head modestly, though the Doctor noted a slight shiver in the man. He couldn't blame him: those memories were fuel for nightmares if ever there was any. The Time Lord's lips formed a word clearly and soundlessly: Please.

Holmes appeared very tempted. "If Watson agrees..." he said slowly.

The Doctor looked at him with cautious hope, still afraid.

The human pinned him with a stern expression. "However, Doctor, one trip only—" the Time Lord's heart fell—"and you will make clear to him the risks involved in such a venture."

The Doctor bowed his head and nodded slowly. "Of course."

When Watson reentered the sitting room, holding the door open for the tray-laden Mrs Hudson, his first impression was that his friend had already refused their guest assistance; understandable, given Holmes' stern countenance and the Doctor's dejected posture. Drawing closer, however, Watson noted that the excited gleam had not left the detective's eye—if anything, it had grown.

"Ah, thank you, Mrs Hudson. Much obliged, Watson, take a seat," Holmes added, smiling appreciatively at the pair of them as Mrs Hudson set the tray down on the coffee table.

"You're quite welcome, Mr Holmes," said the widow, smiling back. "Sir," she added, nodding courteously at the Doctor. "Will there be anything else?"

Holmes waved a casual hand, although clearly most anxious for their landlady to depart in short order. "I should say not, Mrs Hudson, not tonight."

"Very good, sir." Mrs Hudson bestowed one last genteel nod on her lodger before sedately turning to leave.

A curious Watson observed the tenderness in the Doctor's eye as he watched the woman exit without lifting his head, accompanied by an oddly affectionate murmur of "Bless her heart..." Watson certainly couldn't find any fault with the sentiment, however, smiling his agreement and gesturing invitingly at the tray before them. "Please, Doctor, no need to stand on ceremony at this time of night. Holmes is able to assist you, I trust?"

The Doctor paused for a moment as he moved forward to pour himself a cup of tea, glancing briefly across at Holmes, then turning back to look hesitantly at Watson. "Actually..." he said slowly, "Whether or not he assists me really depends on you, Dr Watson."

"I?" Watson's eyes widened. "Holmes, what on earth is he talking about?"

Holmes looked at him seriously. "As it happens, Watson, the Doctor is not here regarding a case. He has a proposition for us, of sorts; but before a decision can be made, there are a number of things you need to know, my dear fellow..." The detective seemed to steel himself for a moment, before continuing. "And most, if not all of them, may be rather difficult for you to believe." Holmes leant forward, his expression earnest. "However, Watson, I can assure you that every word is the truth. I have seen firsthand evidence of the Doctor's claims, and you shall also have the chance to verify those claims for yourself."

Watson's brow furrowed as he looked Holmes straight in the eye, then nodded slowly. He turned back to the Doctor, who was watching the pair of them intently from the settee, fingers tapping nervously on the rim of his cup. "Then by all means, sir, proceed. You have me greatly intrigued."

The Doctor swallowed his tea in one gulp, then set the cup down, shoving both hands into his pockets and taking a deep breath. His solemn gaze met Watson's, marginally softened by a faint smile. "I'll never forget that bit in A Study in Scarlet when you couldn't believe that Holmes didn't know that the Earth revolves around the Sun." The smile faded into quiet intensity. "And you know that it revolves on its axis, but you can't feel that because the planet's gravity holds you in place, keeps you grounded." The Doctor's voice became even quieter and more intense. "But I can. I can feel the Earth turning, the ground beneath our feet spinning... spinning a thousand miles an hour, and hurtling around the sun sixty-seven thousand miles an hour... and I can feel that, too."

Watson's brows knitted together in confusion, uncertain of what to make of what the Doctor had just told him. The man's sincerity was plain—it rang true in every word—but the significance of those words escaped Watson completely! A glance over at Holmes didn't help matters; the detective was still leaning forward in his seat, chin now cupped in his hand, his expression completely unreadable as his gaze flickered between the two doctors.

Their guest took another deep breath. "I'm the Doctor. In mankind's history, I was the first, and I'll probably end up being the last. That's who I am. The Doctor. Because I help people, because I try to heal them." He swallowed hard, and Watson was appalled by the most haunted look he had ever seen appearing in the man's eyes, the look of someone who had witnessed enough pain and suffering for a thousand lifetimes... "Lot of responsibility in being the last of the Time Lords..." And suddenly he turned back to Holmes, expression clear once more, but with his shoulders drooping. "I'm still going too fast, aren't I?"

Holmes sighed, lips twitching in amusement, which a still-mystified Watson dearly hoped was not at his expense. "Doctor, if I may? Otherwise, we could be here all night."

The Doctor looked decidedly sheepish, ducking his head once more. "Right, yes. I'm sorry..." He darted an apologetic glance up at Watson.

Holmes turned to Watson, smiling reassuringly, although his eyes now held an anxious glint. "And that is no reflection upon your intelligence, my dear fellow; merely that the Doctor does have an unfortunate tendency to ramble at precisely the wrong moment, as you have just witnessed. No offense, Doctor," he hastened to add. The detective hesitated for a long moment, then took a deep breath of his own. "Watson... the crux of the matter is this: your belief that there could be sentient life on other planets... was absolutely correct. One such example sits before you now. The Doctor is not human—he is from another world."

Watson's mouth fell open, eyes popping, completely speechless.

Prudently choosing not to wait for a response, Holmes continued on steadily. "He is the last of an ancient race known as the Time Lords and, as might be assumed from the name, travels through Time, moving from one era of mankind's history to another with the same ease that you would browse within the covers of a favourite volume."

The Doctor nodded at Holmes, brightening. "I like that analogy!" Turning back to Watson, "That box out there is m' time machine: the TARDIS."

Watson shook his head weakly to forestall any further explanation, doing his best to regain his shattered composure, or at the very least the ability to think coherently.

Holmes looked at him in deep concern, leaning further forward to lay a hand on his friend's arm. "I think that ought to suffice for the moment, Doctor," he murmured aside. "Are you all right, old fellow?"

Watson drew a shaky breath, leaning back weakly in his armchair, and took a fortifying gulp of his rapidly cooling tea. "I'm fine, Holmes, honestly," he murmured back. "I just... need a minute to... take everything in!" A sudden dreadful suspicion took hold of him through his growing sense of wonder, and he fixed the detective with a forbidding glare. "You are absolutely serious, Holmes? Because if this is any sort of hoax...!" Although admittedly, Holmes had never attempted to deceive him quite like this before! And why would he, on a subject which he would ordinarily have laughed to scorn?

The Doctor rose hurriedly and stepped forward, hands spread entreatingly. "Watson, I'll prove it to you! I can take you anywhere in Time and Space, anywhere in Earth's history or future. We can go meet Cleopatra or Marco Polo or..." He snapped his fingers, eyes lighting up. "Shakespeare! Globe Theatre, 1599!"

The very notion filled Watson with pure delight. A moment later, however, he found his elation being tempered by quite a different sense of wonder, and he gazed at the Doctor thoughtfully. "Why?"

The quiet inquiry seemed to catch the Doctor entirely off guard, freezing for a second like a Highland stag catching the first scent of a hunter. Then he sagged, suddenly looking terribly old and weary. "You've seen the night sky when it's full, right? When it's brilliant and full to bursting with stars and planets and galaxies... Well, I've been to at least half of them, at any given point in Time. I've seen the beginning of the world, and I've also seen its end." He dropped back down onto the settee, shoulders hunched, hands clasping and unclasping in front of him, staring at the floor. "And, after a very long time... it all gets to be just... stuff. You lose the wonder..." He raised his head again to smile tentatively at Watson. "Unless you're sharing it with someone."

The note of profound loss and loneliness in the alien's voice was plainly audible, and Watson felt his own heart ache in empathy, regarding the... Time Lord? in front of him with growing understanding.

The Doctor continued solemnly: "Dr Watson, it'd be my privilege to share that with you and Mr Holmes, if only for a little while."

Watson felt far too deeply honoured at being granted such an incredible opportunity to express any disappointment he might have felt at the last words. "It would be our privilege to travel with you, Doctor." He smiled warmly, then cast a sideways look at Holmes, sobering as he took in the detective's expression: excitement, certainly, but coupled with an unease that seemed to speak far more of memory than speculation. Exactly how much explanation had his friend omitted? "But before deciding, I believe Holmes and I need to confer privately." He spread his hands, smile turning apologetic. "If you will excuse us a moment?"

The Doctor swallowed but nodded meekly, rising from the settee. "Of course. Absolutely. I'll just go... check on the TARDIS..." He cast one final look at Holmes, pleading brown eyes reminding Watson irresistibly of a puppy in disgrace, before hastily leaving the room and shutting the door quietly behind him.