![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yamxDoctor Who/BBC Sherlock Crossover
Title: Sherlock Holmes and the Adventure of the Blue Box
Author:yamx
Beta:canaana & dameruth
Rating: All Ages
Spoilers: DW: The Doctor Dances; Sherlock: The Great Game
Characters: Ninth Doctor, Sherlock Holmes, Rose Tyler, Jack Harkness, John Watson, other characters from both shows, peripheral OCs.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction; the characters are the property of the BBC and used here without permission. No money was made.
Summary: John and Sherlock stumble across a strange blue box in Trafalgar Square. And that's the least weird thing to happen that day.
A/N: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wendymr, who never reads crossovers but requested one anyway. :)
I had to fiddle with some canon details (of both shows) to make this crossover fit. It's set between The Boom Town and Bad Wolf for Doctor Who, and after The Blind Banker for Sherlock.
Chapter 1
Chapter Two
"What? But... Doctor!" Rose shook her head. "They can't be."
"Know that!" He pulled out his screwdriver and started waving it up and down in front of the one who'd given his name as Sherlock, who watched him with calm derision. "Course they can't be."
Jack frowned and opened his mouth to ask why not, but the taller stranger cut him off.
"John, show them your driving license," he said with an eye roll better suited to a teenager. The other man started fumbling through his coat pockets.
Jack tried again. "Doc, Rose – what's wrong with the names they gave us?"
Rose turned to him, looking shocked. "You don't know?"
Why should he? Jack shook his head.
"Come on, 'course you do! Conan Doyle? Hound of the Baskervilles? A Study in Scarlet?
"Pink," the shorter man interrupted, just as Jack was about to ask what the hell a scarlet study was. "I called it A Study in Pink." He was holding out a driving license that did indeed proclaim him to be "Watson, John Hamish."
"Sherlock" rolled his eyes. "Please don't tell me you've read his blog. Is that what this is about?"
"A blog?" Jack frowned. "What's that?"
"'S when stupid apes tell the whole world about every slice of toast they have for breakfast. On the Internet." The Doctor muttered absentmindedly, frowning at the screwdriver's tiny display.
Finally, a familiar term. "Ah, right. Heard of that."
"Conan Doyle?" Rose asked.
"What? No, the Internet. It's what you had before–"
"Jack!" the Doctor barked.
Jack ducked his head. He had to watch himself more closely, or the Doctor'd rightly smack him. "So, Rose, you were telling me about someone named Conan?" he deflected.
Rose shook her head. "You really don't know!"
"Why would he, Rose?" The Doctor interjected. "He's from... elsewhere."
Rose nodded. "Right. Not just Star Trek, then."
"Enlighten me?" Jack asked. He was beginning to feel really guilty about all the times he and the Doctor had thrown fast technobabble at each other while trying to solve some sort of crisis. He promised himself to make more of an effort in the future to make sure Rose knew what was going on.
"Yes, please do!" the bloke claiming to be Sherlock Holmes sneered. "We are dying to know why we can't be who we've been all our–"
The Doctor silenced him with a glare. Jack noticed the shorter stranger looking surprised at that. Apparently, "Sherlock" was not the easily silenced type.
"You explain it, Rose," the Doctor said, turning to the other man to scan him, too.
"Well, Jack..." Rose hesitated. "There's these books. Novels. By this guy named Arthur Conan Doyle."
"Never heard of him," Jack shrugged. Rose looked at the two strangers. Their faces showed no sign of recognition, either.
"Well, he wrote this series. About this genius detective."
Matching frowns appeared on the strangers' faces.
"A bloke who could tell you everything about yourself just from looking at you. And his name was... well..."
"Sherlock Holmes?" the shorter one of the strangers asked.
"Well, yeah." Rose shrugged apologetically.
"Bloody hell." John, if that was his name, looked at his companion, who scowled in a way that rather reminded Jack of the Doctor when he'd told him about the Chula ambulance con.
Rose continued. "An' he had this flatmate, or, more like a sidekick–" She saw "John" bristle and hastily added, "–who really helped him with his cases, 'cause he was a doctor. Been in the military, too... They lived together at Baker Street 221B."
"Oh, come on, this is preposterous!" Sherlock snorted. "You expect us to believe that we're some fairy-tale characters from a book?" He shook his head. "Clearly, you've read John's blog and are now trying to mislead us with your 'amazing knowledge.'"
Jack didn't blame him for coming to that conclusion. Being told your whole life was fiction would be hard to accept for anyone. Losing two years had been bad enough, but if the Doctor and Rose were right – and Jack didn't doubt their word – these guys stood to lose everything.
"Oi!" The Doctor pocketed the screwdriver. "You were the one trying to break into my police box! And you read like two normal blokes ought to, so you're probably just having us on."
"His driving license–" Rose began.
"Must be a fake." He snorted. "Come on, what's next? Inspector Lestrade and your brother Mycroft?"
Sherlock frowned. "How do you know Mycroft? Did he put you up to this?"
The Doctor threw up his hands. "No! Couldn't very well send us, could he, seeing how he's fictional?
"Oh, this is..." Sherlock hissed with irritation. "John, I need today's Times." He held out his hand imperiously.
"Left it at home," his companion shrugged.
Sherlock frowned. "Well, go buy one!"
Jack watched a brief flicker of irritation cross John's face before he turned and headed to the nearest newsstand with an air of resignation Jack felt all too familiar with from when the Doctor was in one of his moods. He felt a pang of sympathy.
They waited in uncomfortable silence until John returned with the paper. Sherlock snatched it and turned to the back of the politics section, where he pointed to a short article at the bottom. Jack could barely make out the headline – something about new EU regulations on chewing tobacco.
"Bloody hell," the Doctor mumbled. He pulled a scanner Jack had never seen before from an inside pocket clearly too small to contain it. It looked like the old-fashioned cordless phone Rose's mum had, but with a mess of cables and blinking blue lights, and a little dish on top going round and round.
"What? What is it?" Rose came around and leaned against the Doctor to look at the paper.
Sherlock pointed to the picture. "Read the caption."
Rose lips formed a perfect O.
Jack craned his neck to look more closely. The paper listed the people in the photo (right to left) and second to last was a tall, pointy-nosed man labeled "Mycroft Holmes."
"How is that even possible?" Rose asked.
"Dunno. But I intend to find out." The Doctor was fiddling with the settings on the scanner. There was a sharp "bing." He frowned.
"Excuse me," John rubbed his neck. "You do realize that you're all barmy, right?" Jack would have taken offence, but he could see how it'd look that way.
The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Look, I understand that it's hard to accept that you're fictional. But there's something bigger at stake here. Someone's messing with the fabric of reality. There's more at risk than just you two and your nearest and dearest being fairy tales."
"You're one to talk," Sherlock sneered. "I'm hardly going to let an alien and a man from the future tell me I don't belong."
Rose gasped. Jack slid his poker face into place and saw the Doctor do the same.
John blinked. "Want to run that by me again?"
Sherlock threw up his hands. "Oh, for god's sake! Don't tell me you missed all the clues?" He pointed at the Doctor. "He's an alien. And I don't mean foreigner." He turned to Jack. "And that one's from a significantly more advanced time than ours."
"Ah." John nodded. "Of course." He indicated Rose. "What about her, then? Vampire slayer?"
Sherlock shook his head. "No. Perfectly ordinary London shop girl. From one of the council estates in Peckham. Powell, probably."
"Nothing ordinary about our Rose," the Doctor snapped. Jack thought he was rather missing the point.
John nodded, not seeming to doubt Sherlock's words. "How did you–"
"Excuse me," the Doctor interrupted sharply. "As fascinating as all this is, I'd really like to get back to the problem of reality dissolving."
"Don't you want to know he found out we–" Jack began.
"Genius, him. Whole point of his existence." The Doctor's scowl turned into a broad grin. "Pleased to meet you, by the way. I'm a big fan."
Sherlock frowned in reply, but there was a pleased smile under John's confusion.
"Listen," Sherlock said, "so far, you've told us nothing you couldn't have got from John's blog. And just because you're an alien and a time traveler doesn't mean you're not insane."
"In fact, one might say it makes it rather more likely..." John muttered.
Sherlock continued, "John and I can't be fictional. It's impossible, because we're standing right here."
The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Fine. Rose, go get the book."
She cocked her head. "Huh?"
He started to unlock the TARDIS. "Library, somewhere behind the green sofa. The light green one, not the one with the purple trim. She'll help you find it." He opened the door. "Everyone inside. No point standing around out here. Going to start raining again soon."
Rose went in and headed straight for the library. Jack gathered up all their Boots bags before going in. When he did, he saw the Doctor pulling a tall device from behind a wall panel. Their guests were standing by the coat stand, Sherlock looking around with polite interest, while John gaped openly.
"Bloody hell. It's bigger on the inside."
"Well spotted, John," Sherlock sneered. "I knew your powers of observation were not entirely hopeless."
"Oh, get off it! Even you have to admit this is impressive."
"Well, I haven't seen many alien space ships. No basis for comparison." He surveyed the console, cocking his head. "Not very clean, though."
"Oi! Stop insulting my ship. An' Jack, close the door and give us a hand."
Jack pushed the door shut, left the bags next to it, and went over to the strange device the Doctor was tinkering with. "Fair warning – I have no idea what that is."
The Doctor nodded. "You wouldn't. It's a... you apes don't really have a word for it, but it's like a malware scanner for reality. Will help us figure out what's going on here."
Jack nodded. "What can I do?"
The Doctor pointed to a small hatch, which revealed a simple sine-scanner array similar to those found on most timeships – just bigger. "Tune the second layer to match our temporal-spatial coordinates. But don't touch the first an' third layers! I know they look a mess, but I want them that way."
Jack nodded. He'd long-since learned to follow the Doctor's instructions to the letter when he didn't understand, and only make suggestions if he was pretty certain they were viable. He pushed a few buttons on his wristcomp to get their precise coordinates and got to work.
To be continued.
Title: Sherlock Holmes and the Adventure of the Blue Box
Author:
yamxBeta:
canaana & dameruthRating: All Ages
Spoilers: DW: The Doctor Dances; Sherlock: The Great Game
Characters: Ninth Doctor, Sherlock Holmes, Rose Tyler, Jack Harkness, John Watson, other characters from both shows, peripheral OCs.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction; the characters are the property of the BBC and used here without permission. No money was made.
Summary: John and Sherlock stumble across a strange blue box in Trafalgar Square. And that's the least weird thing to happen that day.
A/N: For
wendymr, who never reads crossovers but requested one anyway. :)I had to fiddle with some canon details (of both shows) to make this crossover fit. It's set between The Boom Town and Bad Wolf for Doctor Who, and after The Blind Banker for Sherlock.
Chapter 1
"What? But... Doctor!" Rose shook her head. "They can't be."
"Know that!" He pulled out his screwdriver and started waving it up and down in front of the one who'd given his name as Sherlock, who watched him with calm derision. "Course they can't be."
Jack frowned and opened his mouth to ask why not, but the taller stranger cut him off.
"John, show them your driving license," he said with an eye roll better suited to a teenager. The other man started fumbling through his coat pockets.
Jack tried again. "Doc, Rose – what's wrong with the names they gave us?"
Rose turned to him, looking shocked. "You don't know?"
Why should he? Jack shook his head.
"Come on, 'course you do! Conan Doyle? Hound of the Baskervilles? A Study in Scarlet?
"Pink," the shorter man interrupted, just as Jack was about to ask what the hell a scarlet study was. "I called it A Study in Pink." He was holding out a driving license that did indeed proclaim him to be "Watson, John Hamish."
"Sherlock" rolled his eyes. "Please don't tell me you've read his blog. Is that what this is about?"
"A blog?" Jack frowned. "What's that?"
"'S when stupid apes tell the whole world about every slice of toast they have for breakfast. On the Internet." The Doctor muttered absentmindedly, frowning at the screwdriver's tiny display.
Finally, a familiar term. "Ah, right. Heard of that."
"Conan Doyle?" Rose asked.
"What? No, the Internet. It's what you had before–"
"Jack!" the Doctor barked.
Jack ducked his head. He had to watch himself more closely, or the Doctor'd rightly smack him. "So, Rose, you were telling me about someone named Conan?" he deflected.
Rose shook her head. "You really don't know!"
"Why would he, Rose?" The Doctor interjected. "He's from... elsewhere."
Rose nodded. "Right. Not just Star Trek, then."
"Enlighten me?" Jack asked. He was beginning to feel really guilty about all the times he and the Doctor had thrown fast technobabble at each other while trying to solve some sort of crisis. He promised himself to make more of an effort in the future to make sure Rose knew what was going on.
"Yes, please do!" the bloke claiming to be Sherlock Holmes sneered. "We are dying to know why we can't be who we've been all our–"
The Doctor silenced him with a glare. Jack noticed the shorter stranger looking surprised at that. Apparently, "Sherlock" was not the easily silenced type.
"You explain it, Rose," the Doctor said, turning to the other man to scan him, too.
"Well, Jack..." Rose hesitated. "There's these books. Novels. By this guy named Arthur Conan Doyle."
"Never heard of him," Jack shrugged. Rose looked at the two strangers. Their faces showed no sign of recognition, either.
"Well, he wrote this series. About this genius detective."
Matching frowns appeared on the strangers' faces.
"A bloke who could tell you everything about yourself just from looking at you. And his name was... well..."
"Sherlock Holmes?" the shorter one of the strangers asked.
"Well, yeah." Rose shrugged apologetically.
"Bloody hell." John, if that was his name, looked at his companion, who scowled in a way that rather reminded Jack of the Doctor when he'd told him about the Chula ambulance con.
Rose continued. "An' he had this flatmate, or, more like a sidekick–" She saw "John" bristle and hastily added, "–who really helped him with his cases, 'cause he was a doctor. Been in the military, too... They lived together at Baker Street 221B."
"Oh, come on, this is preposterous!" Sherlock snorted. "You expect us to believe that we're some fairy-tale characters from a book?" He shook his head. "Clearly, you've read John's blog and are now trying to mislead us with your 'amazing knowledge.'"
Jack didn't blame him for coming to that conclusion. Being told your whole life was fiction would be hard to accept for anyone. Losing two years had been bad enough, but if the Doctor and Rose were right – and Jack didn't doubt their word – these guys stood to lose everything.
"Oi!" The Doctor pocketed the screwdriver. "You were the one trying to break into my police box! And you read like two normal blokes ought to, so you're probably just having us on."
"His driving license–" Rose began.
"Must be a fake." He snorted. "Come on, what's next? Inspector Lestrade and your brother Mycroft?"
Sherlock frowned. "How do you know Mycroft? Did he put you up to this?"
The Doctor threw up his hands. "No! Couldn't very well send us, could he, seeing how he's fictional?
"Oh, this is..." Sherlock hissed with irritation. "John, I need today's Times." He held out his hand imperiously.
"Left it at home," his companion shrugged.
Sherlock frowned. "Well, go buy one!"
Jack watched a brief flicker of irritation cross John's face before he turned and headed to the nearest newsstand with an air of resignation Jack felt all too familiar with from when the Doctor was in one of his moods. He felt a pang of sympathy.
They waited in uncomfortable silence until John returned with the paper. Sherlock snatched it and turned to the back of the politics section, where he pointed to a short article at the bottom. Jack could barely make out the headline – something about new EU regulations on chewing tobacco.
"Bloody hell," the Doctor mumbled. He pulled a scanner Jack had never seen before from an inside pocket clearly too small to contain it. It looked like the old-fashioned cordless phone Rose's mum had, but with a mess of cables and blinking blue lights, and a little dish on top going round and round.
"What? What is it?" Rose came around and leaned against the Doctor to look at the paper.
Sherlock pointed to the picture. "Read the caption."
Rose lips formed a perfect O.
Jack craned his neck to look more closely. The paper listed the people in the photo (right to left) and second to last was a tall, pointy-nosed man labeled "Mycroft Holmes."
"How is that even possible?" Rose asked.
"Dunno. But I intend to find out." The Doctor was fiddling with the settings on the scanner. There was a sharp "bing." He frowned.
"Excuse me," John rubbed his neck. "You do realize that you're all barmy, right?" Jack would have taken offence, but he could see how it'd look that way.
The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Look, I understand that it's hard to accept that you're fictional. But there's something bigger at stake here. Someone's messing with the fabric of reality. There's more at risk than just you two and your nearest and dearest being fairy tales."
"You're one to talk," Sherlock sneered. "I'm hardly going to let an alien and a man from the future tell me I don't belong."
Rose gasped. Jack slid his poker face into place and saw the Doctor do the same.
John blinked. "Want to run that by me again?"
Sherlock threw up his hands. "Oh, for god's sake! Don't tell me you missed all the clues?" He pointed at the Doctor. "He's an alien. And I don't mean foreigner." He turned to Jack. "And that one's from a significantly more advanced time than ours."
"Ah." John nodded. "Of course." He indicated Rose. "What about her, then? Vampire slayer?"
Sherlock shook his head. "No. Perfectly ordinary London shop girl. From one of the council estates in Peckham. Powell, probably."
"Nothing ordinary about our Rose," the Doctor snapped. Jack thought he was rather missing the point.
John nodded, not seeming to doubt Sherlock's words. "How did you–"
"Excuse me," the Doctor interrupted sharply. "As fascinating as all this is, I'd really like to get back to the problem of reality dissolving."
"Don't you want to know he found out we–" Jack began.
"Genius, him. Whole point of his existence." The Doctor's scowl turned into a broad grin. "Pleased to meet you, by the way. I'm a big fan."
Sherlock frowned in reply, but there was a pleased smile under John's confusion.
"Listen," Sherlock said, "so far, you've told us nothing you couldn't have got from John's blog. And just because you're an alien and a time traveler doesn't mean you're not insane."
"In fact, one might say it makes it rather more likely..." John muttered.
Sherlock continued, "John and I can't be fictional. It's impossible, because we're standing right here."
The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Fine. Rose, go get the book."
She cocked her head. "Huh?"
He started to unlock the TARDIS. "Library, somewhere behind the green sofa. The light green one, not the one with the purple trim. She'll help you find it." He opened the door. "Everyone inside. No point standing around out here. Going to start raining again soon."
Rose went in and headed straight for the library. Jack gathered up all their Boots bags before going in. When he did, he saw the Doctor pulling a tall device from behind a wall panel. Their guests were standing by the coat stand, Sherlock looking around with polite interest, while John gaped openly.
"Bloody hell. It's bigger on the inside."
"Well spotted, John," Sherlock sneered. "I knew your powers of observation were not entirely hopeless."
"Oh, get off it! Even you have to admit this is impressive."
"Well, I haven't seen many alien space ships. No basis for comparison." He surveyed the console, cocking his head. "Not very clean, though."
"Oi! Stop insulting my ship. An' Jack, close the door and give us a hand."
Jack pushed the door shut, left the bags next to it, and went over to the strange device the Doctor was tinkering with. "Fair warning – I have no idea what that is."
The Doctor nodded. "You wouldn't. It's a... you apes don't really have a word for it, but it's like a malware scanner for reality. Will help us figure out what's going on here."
Jack nodded. "What can I do?"
The Doctor pointed to a small hatch, which revealed a simple sine-scanner array similar to those found on most timeships – just bigger. "Tune the second layer to match our temporal-spatial coordinates. But don't touch the first an' third layers! I know they look a mess, but I want them that way."
Jack nodded. He'd long-since learned to follow the Doctor's instructions to the letter when he didn't understand, and only make suggestions if he was pretty certain they were viable. He pushed a few buttons on his wristcomp to get their precise coordinates and got to work.
To be continued.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-09 20:12 (UTC)Yep, more tomorrow. Then a short break as I'll be out of town, and then the next chapter on Monday. :)