Worth the Wake

5. Sunrise – Zepheera enjoys something beautiful for once

AU: Donna AU of BTaS (the Doctor rescues Zepheera while Donna is traveling with him)


Warm, gentle pressure at Zepheera’s back brought her to the waking world. She nearly batted at the finger prodding at her when the Doctor whispered, “C’mon, wake up. It’s happening.”

That was enough encouragement for Zepheera. They’d spent the night out here, under an alien sky, because it was one of the simple pleasures that had never been available to the borrower. She was either too busy worrying about her survival or that of her people, or was stuck in a cage in a windowless room. Here she had friends who were concerned for her recovery, invested in her interests, and more than willing to be her safe place to fall.

Sitting up, Zepheera rubbed her eyes and looked around. Donna was still fast asleep in her own spot, and the sky above was becoming lighter by the second.

The Doctor’s hand shifted to form a platform near Zepheera, who sat on his chest while he lay on his back. She accepted the silent offer without hesitation, and the Doctor was able to sit up without sending Zepheera tumbling. Then she could take her usual perch on his shoulder.

“Any moment now…”

All of the tension from the effort of waking up melted as soon as Zepheera saw the first sliver of sunlight peeking over the horizon.

The Doctor plucked out a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and balanced it on his shoulder so Zepheera could balance one lens on her lap to protect her eyes from the intensity of the sun without missing out on any of the beauty. Together, they watched the arrival of the sun change the colors of the sky and the clouds, a breathtaking canvas constantly in motion.

Zepheera, careful to not shift the sunglasses enough to cause them to fall, scooted herself closer to the Doctor’s neck. Part of her was grateful that he couldn’t see her tears when they were this close. It was still tough for her to be emotionally vulnerable around someone his size, and she didn’t want him to worry needlessly when he’d made her so happy.

“Thank you for this,” she said, unable to avoid the slight crack of emotion in her voice.

She could hear the smile in his voice as he whispered back, “Anytime.”

A First Borrowing

2. Curiosity – Nate’s first excursion into the human world

AU: ??? (Nathan Sullivan is a borrower in a world in which borrowers are common knowledge)


Twelve years old was rather young for Nathan to learn to borrow, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

He was far from rebellious or daring by nature. Quiet and respectful of the rules, of which there were many. With borrowers being known to humans, it was sort of necessary.

Nate understood that, even though the humans had mostly agreed to leave borrowers alone, that it was still dangerous out in the world. Even so, he argued that it would do no harm for him to get a head start on learning to survive. Evidently that was hard enough to argue with that he got his way in the end.

Truth be told, Nate was dying for a glimpse of the human world. It was all so much bigger than the community he grew up in, in more ways than one. Humans had far more at their fingertips than Nate could ever hope to underground. The most exciting learning experience he had to look forward to was studying a trade. He had a deep hunger in his mind that longed for more to learn.

So one could imagine Nathan’s excitement when the first place his father took him to borrow was full of homework. Spanning several grades, the dining room table was full of the stuff to the point that Nate’s father repeatedly chided him to focus on filling his bag with materials.

Compared to that, the rest of the flat was fairly standard. It was a decent distance from the community so it couldn’t easily be traced if worst came to worst. There wasn’t much to learn about the humans that lived here, but it seemed to Nate that it was mostly kids.

In their last room before they returned, Nate noticed something that his father, knowingly or not, overlooked. It looked like a scrap of loose leaf paper folded two or three times, tucked in the space behind a small bookshelf, with a colorful “Hello!” scrawled on the front in pencil crayon.

Intrigue got the best of him and, checking to see if his father was looking, Nate unfolded the paper. It read, in carefully printed block letters:

My name is Stan. I am ten years old. I don’t know any borowers, I promise I’m nice! Will you be my friend?

“Leave it.”

Nate’s father’s voice melted the endeared smile he didn’t notice was forming. He hurried to fold the note back as it was. His dad gave a gesture for Nate to follow, and he knew they were about to leave.

Before he obeyed, Nathan hesitated. He wasn’t usually impulsive, especially when it came to safety. This kid seemed sweet, though. Perhaps he really was nice.

Nathan wasn’t sure if he’d ever find out, but for now, he surreptitiously took a pencil tip from his bag and scrawled a quick and small “Hi” next to the larger, more colorful greeting.

April Fools!

1. Pranks – Zepheera is bored. Shenanigans ensue.

Slowly working my way through these. Let’s see if I actually finish the list this time

Btas: Non-Canon


“Lose something?”

The Doctor paused in his frantic search around the console room, lifting his chin to find the source of the tiny owner of the tiny voice.

“You didn’t,” he growled as he squinted toward the shadowy tops of the coral supports surrounding the room.

A small shadow shifted overhead. “Who, me?”

“Zepheera. Where. Is. My. Sonic?”

As a little figure swung out under a branch of coral on a thin line, the Doctor turned to square off with it, crossing his arms and tapping his toe. The woman who lowered herself unto the dim blue-green light tossed her short brown bob oh so innocently.

“I’ve absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” With her line attached to her belt, she allowed one hand to reach into her vest pocket and pulled out an absolutely miniscule device. She pressed the button and the tip lit up blue.

The Doctor’s eyes widened. “You SHRANK IT?!”

Zepheera smirked, letting herself hang upside down from her harness, waving the sonic and letting the light glint off the gold ring on her upper arm. The culprit for the shrinkage of the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver. “Sure did!”

“Well, un-shrink it!” the Doctor demanded, holding his hands out under the dangling borrower and his miniaturized tool. It distressed him to no end to see it no bigger than a grain of rice. “Why would you even take it, anyway??”

“Because,” Zepheera shrugged. She then let the sonic slip through her fingers, and quickly reached out the arm with the ring to point at it.

“April Fools!” she cried, flipping herself upright the second before the sonic landed safely in the Doctor’s hand, its proper size once again.

After a tender moment of holding his sonic close to his chest, the Doctor shot a flat look up at Zepheera and pointedly returned the device to his inside jacket pocket. “You do realize we’re floating in space, there’s no way to keep track of dates out here.”

Zepheera rolled her eyes and released the latch on her harness to allow herself to lower to the Doctor’s eye level. “It’s been days and I’m bored!”

“We’ve talked about this, we are social distancing!”


Asks and Prompts are open! | Main Story

Morning Tea

brothersapart:

image

Sam || Stuck

AU: Brothers Consulted

Timeline: Before the first story, after the brothers move into 221B Baker Street


It was just another supply run.

There was no reason for either brother to think this morning would be any different from any other.

It was becoming their regular routine; wake up early, grab some food from the cabinets, keep an eye on Sherlock and John while they were up and about. Midafternoon to evening was a good time to catch some sleep with the humans at their most active, and during the night the brothers would pick through the main room of the flat, reading up on the materials Sherlock scattered about his latest cases and grabbing extra supplies for the supply room they were building across the fireplace from their home.

It had only been a week since officially moving in, but so far the schedule was holding out. There were a few hiccups along the way while learning and they had to have chosen the most erratic humans around, but the brothers remained hidden against all odds.

“Anythin?’ “ Dean hissed at Sam as he hesitantly pushed at the entrance into the cupboard.

Sam paused, his eyes unfocused as he concentrated on the strange knack he had. Without that ability, moving into this particular flat would be ill-advised. Between the two of them and their unusual abilities, it became worth the risk.

“Nothing,” Sam confirmed, and Dean climbed into the cupboard to begin their raid.

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Stricken Sneezes

brothersapart:

image

AU: Brothers Consulted

Timeline: Right after moving into 221B Baker Street


“Look out!”

Dean shoved Sam out of the way, his younger brother stumbling backwards from the unexpected danger. Moira yelped, grabbing Sam’s arm to haul him back, leaving Dean to face the threat on his own.

A cat.

Dean didn’t budge an inch, his silver knife in hand as he faced down the cat to give Sam and Moira time to escape. This was supposed to be a quick trip to grab some supplies, stock up Sam and Dean’s new home a few flats away from Moira’s family. They’d only had enough extra food for one meal, and having Moira’s help was welcome.

Of course, no one ever consulted them when getting a new pet, and not knowing that a cat now lived in the flat Moira’s family called home meant that they’d stumbled right into it.

“Mrow?”

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A Long Night (Part 2)

Continued from here.

Original inspiration and dialogue used from this post.


Sam somehow managed to fall asleep in his dark little corner. It wasn’t an easy sleep, not in the less-than-comfortable ball he’d become. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but the next thing he knew, an unfamiliar voice was calling for him right outside the door!

“Sam?” The kid didn’t recognize the deep and gravelly yet gentle voice he heard, but it sounded important and he figured he’d better answer.

“W-who are you?” Sam asked without budging an inch.

“I’m Castiel,” the man answered. “Uh, ‘Cas’,” he added, which Sam appreciated. He thought that was a kinda funny name.

“I’m a friend,” Cas assured. “A friend of both of you.”

Sam’s gaze, all perked up and brightened with curiosity, lowered back to the floor as Cas brought up Dean.

“You know, your brother has been looking for you,” Cas went on. Sam heard him shift, his shadow moving away from the crack he’d left in the door in his hurry, and the next time he heard Cas, he was a big to the side. “He’s been very worried.”

“I…” Sam tightened in his ball again, the words struggling to escape him. “I don’t wanna come out yet.”

“That’s alright,” said Cas gently. “Dean frightened you?”

Sam didn’t answer for a moment, still shaken from the unexpected display of violence from his big brother.

“Sam?” Cas tried again. It helped Sam relax. Cas wasn’t growing impatient with him or demanding an answer, just checking to make sure Sam was okay.

“He… he pushed me down. He was mad at me…” Sam admitted, his voice light as he told Cas what happened.

Sam heard Cas sigh. “I don’t think he was upset with you. The mark on his arm—it’s…magic.” It was clear that Cas was hesitant to explain this to a child. “Very bad magic.”

I knew it.

Cas was quiet as he continued. “I may not be much—but I’m still an angel. I will do my best to help.”

“You’re a angel?” A hint of curiosity leaked through Sam’s voice as he scooted forward and peeked out of his little cupboard. Sam regarded the man with disheveled black hair, a desperate hope in his big hazel eyes. “Can you fix Dean?”

Cas’ bright blue eyes softened at the sight of his cursed friend, so much smaller than he used to be, fluffy brown bangs partially shading his little face. “I am,” he answered. “And I’ll do what I can for him. And for you.”

Sam decided to believe Cas, finally coming out of hiding. He came to sit next to the angel, almost right up against his knee where the tan trench coat he wore fanned out.

“Can…can angels fix me, too?” Sam asked hesitantly, staring at the floor. “I think…there’s something bad in my skin…”

Sam hadn’t told anyone he felt that way, not even Dean. Something about Sam, something deep inside, felt very wrong. Ever since his big brother became a grown-up. Everything was different, even Sam.

“Can you fix me, to?” Sam urged Cas, his voice cracking a little as he choked up.

Then Cas put a hand on Sam’s little back, spreading warmth and comfort from its touch. They sat there like that for a minute, Sam feeling his tensions and worries melting away.

“There is nothing about you that needs to be fixed, Sam,” Cas insisted, his voice as gentle as it had been. “I’ve learned that much.”

Sam liked Cas. He was nice. Sam never met an angel before…although something in him wondered if he really was one, or if he was just saying that to make Sam feel better.


So that’s the end of my entry! The reason I’m concluding this here and not after the third part of this specific mini arc [here] is because I started writing it and realized that I didn’t feel like I was adding anything to it like I did in these two parts. I love the ending, definitely check it and the rest of @asksamstuff‘s works out, this was a ton of fun to write and I hope the contest goes well!

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A Long Night — A Contest Entry for AskSamStuff

Whoa! Content on this blog! While it’s not my usual stories, and not even Doctor Who, it’s part one of a ficlet based on a special series of comics by @asksamstuff for their contest [x]. There’s two parts, and I’ll explain more about why in the next bit, but anyway!

Original inspiration and dialogue used is from this post.


~ Sam was cursed to revert back to his five-year-old self, with only the memories he had at that age. Dean’s taking care of him, but he can only hide his demons for so long… ~

Sam’s breath hiccupped as he shuffled down the dark hallways of the bunker toward Dean’s room. His big brother was always there for him, he’d know how to comfort Sam how the nightmare he’d just had.

He could never remember his dreams after he woke up, but they always left him with a bad feeling deep down. Sometimes he even woke up all hot, like he was in an oven. And he never knew why.

Dean would make it better. He always did.

The door was open a crack when Sam reached it, pushing it open the rest of the way with on tiny hand.

“Dean, I had a bad dream and I…” Sam’s whisper trailed off when he noticed the shadow. Dean wasn’t in bed at all. He was sitting on the floor, all hunched.

“Dean? Y’okay?” Sam padded further into the room as his eyes adjusted, noticing the tension in his big brother’s shoulders, the sweat dripping from his face, the shaking in his fist.

“D-Dean?” Sam tried again quietly, his concern mounting the longer he went without an answer.

“Sam,” said Dean in a strained voice. “It’s not… Go back to sleep.”

Sam was sad for his big brother. Dean tried to hide it, setting Sam up by the TV with his Power Rangers DVDs while he took a nap or went out for some air, but Sam could tell. Dean wasn’t alright all the time.

But that was okay, neither was Sam. The least he could do was show Dean he wasn’t alone.

“Did- did you have a bad dream, too?” Sam ventured, tiptoeing closer. Dean’s shoulders bunched up even more and his left hand flew to grab the inside of his right elbow as the shaking in his fist got worse.

None of this deterred Sam as he reached a little hand to rest on his big brother’s shoulder, lightly patting the soft black tee.

“It’s okay, Dean—“

“I SAID GO!

In a flash, Dean’s elbow swung out and connected with Sam’s chest. He was shoved hard, hitting the floor with a dull thud.

Silence.


Everything fell silent as the brothers stared at each other, Dean in shock at what he’d just done to his de-aged little brother. Tears pricked at the corners of Sam’s eyes, and before Dean could stop him, apologize – something – the kid was off like a shot.

“Sam—Sammy, wait! Come back—shit!” Dean jumped to his feet and hurried down the darkened passages of the bunker after his little brother.

Dean searched and searched, turning on every light he could find and calling after Sam. “Sam… Sam, I’m sorry,” he lamented. And he truly was. He didn’t know what came over him…

A twinge in his right arm reminded him that that was a lie. Dean stubbornly ignored it.

“Where are you??”

Truth be told, Sam had no idea where he was. He ran and ran in the dark, finding the deepest corner he could nestle himself into. There he curled into a ball, trembling and cringing as Dean’s voice echoed through the halls.

“Sam… Please, I just…”

Sam could hear Dean calling, but this time he did not want to come out. When he squeezed his eyes shut, he could still see it… The tattoo on Dean’s arm. It looked like a funky number seven, but something about it felt bad to Sam. Somehow, he just knew it was what was making Dean act all out of sorts.

It was the only thing different about Dean, from what Sam knew.

“I didn’t mean to—,” Dean’s next plea was cut off by a muffled guitar riff, one of Dean’s favorite songs. His ringtone.

It stopped when Dean answered.

“Cas—Now’s not a good time. Where are you? …Sam? He’s… Uh…”

Sam barely registered Dean’s voice anymore, curling into a ball as his head spun with bad thoughts.

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Helping Hands — Part 3/3

((aka Happy Belated Hug A Tiny Day!))

Prompt from @neonthebright: The Doctor drops/misplaces his sonic somewhere he can’t reach and Zepheera goes on a mini-adventure to retrieve it for him.

BTaS Canon: No – DonnaAU

Timeline: Post-Midnight, Pre-Turn Left

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3


The Doctor couldn’t keep still as he waited for Zepheera. She was so close to retrieving his sonic screwdriver from the underbelly of his TARDIS, something he would never have been able to do without either an unthinkable amount of effort or a four-and-a-half inch tall companion.

“How’s it coming?” he called down  the gap, excited and impatient in equal measure. He hadn’t heard her voice in a little over two minutes, and he was eager to know the current state of his beloved screwdriver. He wished he could see into the hole he’d dropped the device into in the first place.

A small grunt echoed down from the shadows, a little closer than the last time Zepheera had filled him in. “Had to dislodge it from between two…I don’t even know. Things. Then I had to push it up a slope – this thing is harder to roll than it looks!”

“Do you think you can manage it?” asked  the Doctor, a little worry leaking through his voice. He hadn’t thought about how the borrower would be able to retrieve his sonic, a device almost longer than she was tall.

After a pause, she replied, “Don’t worry, I’ve got an idea. Give me a moment, and keep an ear out.”

The Doctor sat back and placed his chin on his folded arms, drumming his fingers restlessly. He hummed quietly to stop himself from actually counting the seconds until he heard Zepheera’s voice again. “Okay, I’ve got it attached to my rope! I’m gonna need you to ease us up!”

“Right! Gotcha!” The Doctor shot up, nearly bumping his head on the underside of the floor. He pinched the tiny rope, the size of a thread to him, in two fingers and tugged. Hearing

Zepheera’s surprised cry, he halted.

“I said ease, not wrench!” she chastised.

“Sorry,” mumbled the Doctor, this time drawing the rope back slowly. He was extra careful when Zepheera and the screwdriver were almost out; she needed to align the probe so it would come out cleanly without crashing into the sides of the long, narrow gap. Once that was achieved, it emerged easily and the Doctor slipped his free hand underneath it.

After his companion dismounted the device, he scooped it up into his right hand, ignoring the rope still attached to it. He adjusted his grip and gave it a buzz. It was music to his ears.

“At last! My arm is complete again!” he exulted.

Zepheera’s fatigued mind had only begun to wonder if that was a reference to something when she found herself being lifted quickly to the Doctor’s face. To her chagrin, he planted an overjoyed kiss to the top of her head.

“You’re the best!” he proclaimed, beaming gratefully even as Zepheera ran her fingers through her dark bob to brush off the feeling his lips left behind.

“Don’t ever do that again,” she emphasized, scowling halfheartedly up at his stupid face. Little did she know the Doctor had only begun to display his gratitude toward his companion, and he drew her close once again.

At first, she worried that he was disregarding her wishes, so she threw her arms up to fend off another peck.

Instead, he pressed her to his cheek and thanked her over and over. Once the shock had worn off, she realized that what she’d done meant a lot more to the Doctor than she realized. She smiled and patted his cheek fondly.

“You’re welcome, big fella,” she murmured.

They stayed like this for a good while, until Zepheera broke the contented silence between them: “Now, I believe you owe me a cuppa.”

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Helping Hands — Part 2/3

Prompt from @neonthebright: The Doctor drops/misplaces his sonic somewhere he can’t reach and Zepheera goes on a mini-adventure to retrieve it for him.

BTaS Canon: No – DonnaAU

Timeline: Post-Midnight, Pre-Turn Left

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3


If anyone had told Zepheera decades ago that one day she’d be able to sit comfortably in a human hand, she’d have told them to bugger off. And yet there she was, leaning tiredly against a human look-alike’s fingers as he sauntered off toward the console room. Completely at his mercy, yet with complete trust in him.

She straightened when he entered the dome-shaped room, peering over the edge of the Doctor’s hand curiously. Indeed, one of the floor panels was pulled up and set aside, leaving a gaping hole in the floor. Those compartments were still a bit of a mystery to Zepheera, even after all this time. She’d observed that a few of them were used for storage, filled with old trunks and boxes and the like, but most seemed to be dark mazes of machinery that Zepheera would rather not get lost in.

And now she was about to crawl willingly into one. Spectacular.

The Doctor climbed slowly into the hole, careful to jostle the borrower as little as possible. Crouching, he took up less than half of the space inside, but once Zepheera found herself lowered below the floor level, she saw that there was more room than the size of the panel would suggest.

“Where did it fall through?” she asked, stifling a yawn.

“Down here.” The Doctor leaned down and reached in to lay his hand next to a slight slope. Just big enough for the sonic screwdriver, and too small to fit his hand through. Zepheera slid off the Doctor’s palm at the top of the slope to carefully examine her surroundings.

Nothing in this place was smooth or flat, not even the slope. It all seemed to be made of wire or hose or angular mechanisms and couplings that Zepheera could never begin to understand. She didn’t need to, though. All she needed was a secure place to attach her hook.

The ground shook the moment she reached for the grapple hanging from her shoulder; in her fatigued state, she hadn’t thought to expect movement from the Doctor, so she stumbled a bit before she felt steady enough to shoot a glare over her shoulder. Her silent scolding had no effect, the Doctor was shifting to lay on his back and wasn’t even looking her way.

“As you can see, I was working like  this, on that stuff up there,” he explained, pointing out a few wires and plugs dangling from the underside of the console. “It’s all kinda technical, and actually quite volatile without the right tools–”

“Then I guess I’d better not delay,” Zepheera snipped, securing her hook around a black cord near the top of the slope and disappeared through the gap. “Really don’t need the graphic details.”

The Doctor cocked an eyebrow at the gap. “Well, someone’s grumpy.”

Someone is owed a cup of tea after this.”

She slid slowly down her rope at first; even knowing how quickly it would heal, she’d rather not sprain anything by jumping in too fast and hitting the floor too hard. She couldn’t even see the bottom through the shadows, much less the Doctor’s precious probe.

“A torch would be much appreciated if you’ve got one!” she called up.

“Ah! Right, yes.” Zepheera halted her descent when she felt a few vibrations through her rope indicating the Doctor was moving. Then a pale yellow light washed over her and illuminated her destination perfectly. “Better?”

“Much, thanks.” Now that a floor was in plain sight, a little less than a foot away, Zepheera dropped easily down. She frowned when she didn’t see the sonic anywhere. The immediate area was cavernous and irregular, and a glance upward told her she was about a foot and a half down  from the Doctor’s level.

A massive tangle of wired machinery stood behind her, a few outlines of passageways before her.

While she took a moment to choose a direction, the Doctor’s voice echoed down to her. “See it yet?”

Zepheera rolled her eyes. “Not yet. Give me a minute.” She almost asked him to angle the torch to a better angle, but given how narrow the opening was, she doubted that would be easy. Instead, she started toward the passage right in front of her. It seemed to be wide enough to accommodate a falling screwdriver and was the only logical place for it to go. She proceeded cautiously, trailing her rope along in her hand so she wouldn’t get lost or fall down a hole with no way back. “How’d you even manage to drop it down here?”

“I dunno, it’s never really happened before. Guess I just…got lost in thought or something, and it slipped.”

“You? Lost in thought? Shock and surprise,” Zepheera murmured, a twinge of humor teasing at her lips.

“Oi! Heard that.”

This actually brought a chuckle out of Zepheera, who turned to call over her shoulder. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re starting to sound like DonNA-A-A!”

Her foot caught on something she couldn’t see even if she were watching where she was going, and she tumbled down a low slope of hard metal things until something cylindrical broke her fall. It buzzed briefly as she landed on it.

“Zepheera! What happened, are you alright?”

Slightly dazed from the impact, Zepheera shook her head and breathed deeply. “I’m okay!” she assured. As she got to her feet, she realized exactly what she was leaning on for support.

“I found it!”

“Brilliant!” the Doctor exulted. “Can you get it up?”

Zepheera regarded the probe at her feet. It was taller than she was, but she was stronger than she looked. “Hang on! I’ll see what I can do.”

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Doctor y Doctor

John Watson didn’t stop to think. The fact that he and Sherlock were already late to meet Lestrade at a fresh, new, and conveniently nearby crime scene completely left his mind. He saw a man get blindsided by some punk kid on a skateboard and fall hard on the ground while the assailant rode on. John immediately rushed to his side.

He shoved his way through the small crowd gathering to gawk at the man with morbid curiosity. It was easy to see why; on top of the spectacle, the man was rather odd-looking in general. Mid-thirties, early forties but with a forward-sweeping spike to his hair, a brown pinstriped suit paired with white Converse of all things, and a long, tan overcoat to put it all together. It was a wonder how this strange person had escaped the skater’s notice. Luckily the chap didn’t seem too badly hurt, but he was groaning something terrible and clutching his head.

“Steady on, mate. I’m a doctor, and you’ve been hit hard.” John spoke evenly and kindly as he knelt by the man and moved his hands away from his face so he could check for signs of concussion. “Do you remember what happened?”

The chocolate-brown eye John was holding open zeroed in on him, and the brow above it furrowed. Then his hand shot to his right shoulder and scrambled around, as though he were looking for something.

He started to sit up quickly, but John stopped him with a hand to the chest.

“No, no, don’t get up too fast–”

“Get off!”

The man shoved John roughly away, knocking him on his arse. Then he got on his hands and knees, calling out some strange word that John didn’t recognize. It almost sounded like a rejected spell from Harry Potter.

Regardless, John stood and made one last attempt to calm the man down.

“Sir, you need medical attention,” John insisted.

The man shook off the hand John laid on his shoulder, then jumped up to his full height. John blinked as the man loomed over him, despite only being about half a foot taller than him. His eyes, while clear, were crazed and deadly.

“I don’t need a doctor. I am the Doctor. Now go. Away.”

John stared as the man went back to searching the ground. By then the thin crowd had been scared off by the man’s apparent madness. “Alright, man, suit yourself,” the doctor muttered as he backed off. Clearly the matter was out of his hands, and he was on his way to see Lestrade anyhow. Perhaps he could tip the detective inspector off, and send someone over to deal with the situation.

“Well, I tried,” sighed John as he approached Sherlock, who had waited for him. “Let’s go, I guess.”

“Actually, John, you go on ahead,” said Sherlock.

John frowned. “But Lestrade–”

“Something’s come up. Besides, I highly doubt he has anything you can’t handle on your own. Meet back at the flat.”

And that was it. Sherlock walked off without another word, leaving John confused and more than a little annoyed.

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