NerdfightingWhovian

"Sherlock," John called from his bedroom. "Sherlock, could you come here for a moment, please?" "SHERLOCK," he yelled in exasperation. This was just like him, Sherlock; not even his roomate, co-detective, and blogger incapacitated with a broken ankle could pry him away from yelling at his reality television. "JOOHHN," a voice mockingly cried from behind directly behind him, John jumping up a good few inches off the mattress even with his fractured bone. Sherlock's grinning face peered over the top of John's head to smirk at him eye to eye. "Yes?" "I was going to ask for a glass of water, but Jesus, Sherlock, are you trying to injure me f

"I don't even know where to begin..." John started, pacing the room in front of Sherlock, who was sitting in his arm chair, legs pulled to his chest and his eyes trained on John. "...I mean... You left for a week! I didn't know where in bloody hell you were and I was worried sick! I though someone had you, or worse, I thought you were dead!" "John..." Sherlock started, his voice low and almost quiet. It was so uncharacteristically like Sherlock to be quiet. "Stop," John cut him off, holding his hand out to stop Sherlock. "Can you just tell me where you've -been-?!" Sherlock shook his head, looking down at the floor. "And why -not-, Sherlo

The Doctor looked sadly at the place Rose had disappeared. He felt like beating himself up, felt like crying and sobbing. But he had had to do it. He could not do it to her or Jackie. She would have hated him forever for doing that to her. He shook his head and ran to the computer, but he could not stop himself from glancing at the stop she had disappeared. He already missed her so much. He forced himself to work on the computer, but memories of the two of them kept resurfacing. "How long are you gonna stay with me?" "Forever." "You goin' my way, doll?" "Is there any other way to go daddy-o? Straight from the fridge man!" "I don't age.