An Eye for an Eye (Doctor Who/Sherlock Crossover)

Key to the TARDIS

Author's Note: This is later than I intended, I'm sorry! I'm gonna try to update around once a week, but I don't know what might pop up in life. Anyways, the story is gonna pick up from here, so stay tuned! As always I really appreciate your comments and likes. Thanks for reading! -Shannon

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The Point of View of John Watson

   John felt himself gradually gaining consciousness again, but he didn’t want to open his eyes. They were heavy, and he was tired, and he just wanted to sleep for the rest of his life. There was a weight on his chest and it was making it hard to breathe, but John thought it was nice. The pressure on his chest lulled him further into sleep.

    “John. John.”

    Someone was shaking him violently, their voice desperate and strained. “Please,” the voice said. “Wake up. John, please.”

    Even in his stupor, John knew that voice and it brought him to life again. His senses clawed to get control, to open his eyes, to see who was speaking to him. He inched his eyelids open slowly, for they felt like lead, and through his blurry vision he saw a man. A man with curly black hair and a gaunt, angular face. And this man was staring right at John, waiting for him to wake up, like the fate of the world depended on it.

    John’s tongue felt like sand. “Sherlock,” he whispered, trying to move his hand to reach out to him. To see if he was real.

    But as soon as Sherlock – or the mirage – saw that he was awake and okay, he straightened up. Without taking his eyes off of John, he backed away quickly. Before John could cry out again, Sherlock had disappeared through the door and down the stairs.

    John felt a pang of hurt, but then he realized there was no way Sherlock could be real, because he was dead. It had to be the psychic pollen – obviously, it was still lingering from the tea, and he wasn’t exactly in the right state of mind, waking up from being unconscious.

    It was just strange though….Sherlock had never run away before in his hallucinations. He merely disappeared; there one moment and gone the next.

    John had no time to wonder about this, however, because the Doctor sat straight up from his spot on the floor with a cry. “John?” he called, looking around. He got to his feet. Or well, he tried. As soon as he put his weight on his legs they trembled and sent him tumbling forward – he was a blurry mess of flying limbs for a moment before he caught himself on the edge of the couch.

    That was when the Doctor caught sight of John. Despite his unbalanced predicament on the edge of the couch, the alien man smiled. “I was ready to get up but my legs weren’t, I suppose! Happens all the time,” he joked, but John could see right through him. He knew the look of a man who wasn’t sure his body was cooperating.

    John used all his strength to lift his torso up from the ground. “What the hell happened?”

   “Some sort of….sedative explosive gas, I suppose? Like tear gas, but it knocks you out. Never seen that before. A new one!” The Doctor slowly used to the couch to get himself into the chair where he could rest his wobbly legs.

    “But why? Why did Moriarty need to knock us out? And where did he get…sedative explosive gas? I don’t think you can go to your neighborhood market and buy that sort of thing,” John said.

    The Doctor smirked, his head rolling back on the chair. “You know as well as I do that Moriarty can get whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. Why he used it on us, I don’t know. We’re both in one piece, aren’t we?”