scatteringashes:

Cover Art by xenoamorist/rubato. And there’s more awesome: click here for the Art Masterpost!

This Temple Tilts for the Superwho Big Bang 2012. Beta’d by The Arcane Theory

The Doctor is missing. This wouldn’t bother the Winchesters so much (it’s not as though they can really tell the difference between the Apocalypse rebooting and time unwinding) except the TARDIS is on the loose and trying to find him… and she took the Impala with her. Everyone has to pitch in and figure out exactly where the Doctor has disappeared to, and why, before the world breaks down around them.

PG-13 | ~ 32,200 words

Pairings: Dean/Castiel, TARDIS/Impala, Amy/Rory, implicit Doctor/River, briefly mentioned Sam/Ruby (in order of weight)

Timeline/Spoilers: Takes place immediately after the last episode of season 6 of Doctor Who, and in an AU’d post-season 4 of Supernatural.

• Ao3
• FF.net
• LJ Masterpost
• Fanmix

king-mycroft:

He gets it now. How everything- everything has been leading to this. The blue box on the corner of every street. The strange couple standing in the shadows just out of the corner of his eye. He would bet that they are the ones he is seeing now.

“Oh! Oh brilliant. John this is brilliant.”

“What, what is it?”

“You tell me.” Sherlock says in that tone of voice that John knows he reserves just for when he wants to make his flatmate feel clever.

“A film, something behind the mirror?” John tries weakly and Sherlock arches an eyebrow like a cat not amused, “Alright. A projection then?”

“As ever you see but you do not observe.”

“Don’t give me that…”

“John! I need you to look, really look.”

He does.

“Impossible. Bloody Impossible.” John whispers, “What is it?”

Sherlock grins just as the odd man in the mirror frowns- like distorted reflections of one another.

“That-“ he points to the mirror, “that is time collapsing.”

——————————

The mirror stands alone. Through the ages it stands alone. Innocuous. Just a mirror it would seem, just your reflection framed. On first inspection at least.

If one were to look closer they may see more.

The glass beautifully shattered. A single blunt trauma sending cracks throughout the structure like the threads of a spider’s web. These cracks exist in the fourth dimension.

The mirror stands alone, through the ages, but for two moments in time. /p>

Two moments, hundreds of years apart.

A Time Lord and his companion.

A detective and his doctor.

————————————

“Amy… do you see that?” The Doctor scowls, prodding the mirror approximately where his own face lies.

“Is that- that’s a person!” Amy gasps at the person- no people ­­in the mirror. People that aren’t themselves, blurred and distorted but most definitely there, “Are they in the mirror?”

“No. Not in the mirror, they’re standing where we are. Two times. One reflection. We’re seeing there reflection too. This is very not good.”

“How is that possible?” Amy asks, though she doesn’t know why. Impossible is a word you soon learn to forget when with the doctor.

“It’s those cracks. Cracks in time like the crack in your bedroom wall only not because these are making two separate times, in exactly the same place, converge.”

“We need to find them, then. Find this other time.”

“Yes- yes, good idea.” The Doctor mutters his reply, he sounds faraway, lost in his mind.

“What’s going on, Doctor?” Amy asks, nervous lilt to her voice as she steps closer to examine the pair in the mirror.

The Doctor frowns just as the odd man in the mirror grins- like distorted reflections of one another.

“Time is collapsing.”

beejabbers:

Chapter One.

sarahstarz777:

“You have to go back, you know,” he explained to me as the smoke from his cigarette filled the air in the train. He looked out the window for a moment and watched as the forest landscape flew past. All the places he had been, all the space ships and transporters, a train must be so ordinary for him. 

I sighed and pulled my cell phone from my bag. I had been sent messages from Irene and John amost daily, but I never responded. I needed to disappear. I needed time to think, to work out everything that could go wrong in my plan, and every fix to make it right again. I looked up from my phone, “How long has it been, Doctor?”

The Doctor lifted the cigarette from his mouth, “About a year and a half or so, roughly 17 months, I would say. That would be about right.” The Doctor watched intensely as I buried my phone back in my bag and leaned my head up against the window. “Sherlock, you need a doctor. Your doctor.” 

“Yes but how do I do it?” I didn’t realize I had raised my voice, and the Doctor raised an eyebrow out of surprise. “There are so many things that could go wrong, things I cannot control…”

“Do what the rest of the human race does.” The Doctor leaned forward, “You and I are alike in one way, we are brilliant. We over-complicate things because we have to knowledge to do so, it’s natural. Put that aside and just try…” The Doctor sat back in his seat and looked out the window, not looking me in the eye as he spoke, “I have seen what John is without you, and you two need each other. You’re two parts of a whole, Sherlock. Who is the blogger without his detective?” 

(Source: queen-of-gallifrey)

i-o-u-a-fall:

It wasn’t supposed to happen. The Doctor wasn’t supposed to be seen; wasn’t supposed to be noticed by the man he’d been watching for three years. Yet it just so happened that on a Thursday afternoon, at 16:30, the TARDIS malfunctioned (most likely on purpose), and The Doctor found himself crash-landing outside a cafe one John Hamish Watson frequented that same day at that same time. The timelord would have cursed the occurrence, but with it came an opportunity to set things right; to do what he’d intended for some weeks.

In the silence between the exchanged pleasantries, The Doctor confirmed what he had suspected all along: John was utterly broken. He could cover it well enough, but the loss of life in his eyes was all the timelord needed to see to know that his so-called ‘doctor-twin’ had lost his liveliness, and had not regained it since the fall. Hands folded on the table, the bowtied madman watched the lost soldier absentmindedly fill in a crossword; their coffees untouched. The Doctor’s eyes were soft and sympathetic. He was waiting for the right moment to tell the tale of Sherlock’s greatest trick; to finally bring the doctor and the detective back together again.

Waiting, however, was never The Doctor’s forte. The confession was blurted before he could stop it. “So!” he began. John’s eyes flickered upwards. “You know why I’m here, then?” the timelord queried with a slight tilt of his head.

“Yes,” John said knowingly with a nod. “And you probably know my answer. I can’t go with you, Doctor.” He glanced back down to the paper to avoid looking the man in the eyes. “Not without him.” The pen in his fingers filled in a horizontal word.

The Doctor was grinning like a cad. It was always more fun when people got it wrong. Excitement bubbled within him, curling his toes and making him fidgety. “Close but no cigar, Doctor Watson!” he exclaimed. Again, John gazed up, this time with a quirked brow. “I’m here because I want to ask you a question.” John’s stare never wavered, though a flicker of curiosity passed over his eyes.

The Doctor’s grin became something gentle and joyous. Truth shined in his eyes, and sincerity laced every word. He took a moment to gather himself, thinking only of the waiting detective, before asking what he had wanted to say for three years. “Are you ready to see Sherlock again?”

The look on John’s face could only be described as quiet astonishment. Coupled with the pen which dropped from his grasp, the man’s jaw dropped just so and his eyes widened at the prospect, but otherwise, he remained unchanged. The look in his eyes, though, was screaming hope; a beg of ‘Yes, yes, please, let him be alive.’ There was trust as well - so much that it touched The Doctor to know John would never question his word.

Bony hands found his bowtie, re-crooking the accessory, before The Doctor nodded to himself. He scooped down to pick up the pen, fiddled with it for a moment, then pointed it at John. “Then pack your bags, John.” Another smile broke out on his face. “Sherlock is waiting.”

still-the-only-one-in-the-world:

When Sherlock hears it, he runs. He runs towards the sound of the universe. He ignores John, for once John doesn’t matter. This is more important.

He runs, slightly out of breath but smiling in a way he rarely does. “Hello, Doctor.”

The Doctor is standing right in front of his apartment, with a new face and an odd expression on his face. “I know you. How do I know you?” 

Sherlock wonders where this man has been, the places he’s visited to make him forget him. 

“Once upon a time,” Sherlock starts slowly, staring at the Doctor, unable to let his unusual grin fade. A disbelieving smile was slowly spreading across the Doctor’s face. “A man who called himself the Doctor showed up at a little boy’s door. He told him Mummy was currently fighting a lizard with her shoe. And then he slipped something into the little boy’s hand and proceeded to climb out of his window and disappear into a blue police box that looks remarkably like the one parked two blocks down.”

Sherlock reached into his pocket a took out a stained, faded piece of paper. The Doctor looked at it, then slowly turned his gaze to Sherlock.

“Sherlock Holmes!” He cried out, grinning broadly. “Hello!” 

(Source: gallifreyan-fairytale)

sixbusandadrpef:

Recipient: Sherlock Mobile

If you are reading this, then you should know what happened; if you are reading this, then you’ve found his phone; if you are reading this, then I shouldn’t have to explain. Please, don’t make me explain it.

I have no idea what time means to you, but to me it means the beginning of some things and end of others. I don’t know what is about to begin, and that scares me. It scares me more than anything I’ve seen in the last eighteen months. As for the end part, well, we both know what has ended.

You were always there for him when he needed you. You’d turn up at a moment of notice to offer advice or comfort. You understood him better than I did, so I take it you understand this - the fall, the death, everything. I know what you’re capable of, and for fear of sounding like a heartbroken fool I won’t ask you outright. But if you have him, if you’ve saved him - and I feel it in my heart that you did - keep him safe, please. I don’t know the cause of the effect, but I trust that he’s told you.

And don’t show him this text. Either way, dead or alive, I won’t see him again. I know that.

Thank you, Doctor. -JW

(Source: getoffmysheep)

thegingerintheredjumper:

Childhood friends never last, right?

Amy Pond was at her desk, doing her chemistry homework. More accurately, she was texting Sherlock, getting him to do her chemistry homework. Not that she didn’t know the answers, she did, it was just an excuse to talk to Sherlock, and she didn’t have to do work. Win/win, really.

The front door of the big house in Leadworth opened and clicked shut.

“Hi, Amy.” Aunt Sharon was home from work.

“Hey. In the study.”

The aunt-niece relationship had improved, and Amy no longer hated her aunt. It was a cordial relationship, almost friends now, but it was moment like this that made it, well, difficult.

Sharon walked into the study, dumping her coat on the back of one of the chairs.

“Hiya, what’re you up to?”

“Just chemistry homework,” Amy replied, ignoring the phone buzzing on the table. She desperately wanted to read it, but her manners told her to respect her elders.

“Oh, okay,” Sharon was clueless when it came to science. They sat there, silence swelling in the room.

After a fair amount of time, Sharon spoke. “Amy, we need to talk about a few things.”

“Oh?” Amy had a feeling it had something to do with Sherlock, and she started to feel sick, her stomach knotting uncomfortably as she was sitting.
“Yeah…” Sharon looked around the room nervously, as if she didn’t want to be saying this next bit. “Listen, I know you’re not going to tell me certain things, that you will keep things to yourself. I understand. After that whole Raggedy Doctor thing…” Amy almost glared at her Aunt.

“Where is this going?” she had to fight to not growl the words.

“Just, there are certain things you need to be safe about.”

“Oh, God,”

“And you know how much I don’t like him, but from what I’ve seen of the boy, Sherlock won’t use you,” Amy’s eyes widened, but Sharon continued, telling herself it was like ripping off a band-aid. “God, I’m rambling. What I’m saying is I know Sherlock’s a good guy, but I don’t want you seeing him.”

The knot in Amy’s stomach tightened.

“Seeing him, or seeing him?”

“Oh, God, you can stay friends with him, I know how much he means to you. Just, Amy-love, he’s too old for you. You’re 14, he’s 18. It’s a huge age gap for someone your age. What about that lovely boy, Rory?”

“He’s gay, Sharon.” Amy wasn’t going to let this go, but she wasn’t willing to argue right now. This was too much of a bombshell, and she needed to think.

Sharon smiled sadly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” Amy snapped. “You never liked him, and you just said that, and you’re pulling the ‘it’s best for you’ card. No. You’re not sorry. Don’t tell me you are.” Sharon stared, a little stunned. “Just, go!” Amy almost yelled, finding it hard to keep a lid on her emotions.

Sharon left the room, but Amelia Pond didn’t notice. She and Sherlock weren’t dating, but her aunt’s words had triggered something in her, some realisation of her feelings? She didn’t know, she just didn’t know.

She picked up her phone to read the text that had been left unread for a while: Nitrogen cycle – SH.

She smiled, and then wondered why she was smiling. All he’d written was two words to contribute to her homework.

She thought a while, realising that while she loved Sherlock, she was deluding herself if she thought he felt the same way. He was 18, for God’s sake. Way out of her league, even without the age gap.

The text conversation stopped, homework left almost incomplete as Amelia Pond cried herself to sleep.

imthegirlwhowaited:

“I lie awake late at night, and I think of him. I don’t let Rory know, because it would break his heart. But I toss and turn, unable to rest because I feel so alone,” Amy looked lost in her memories.

“We’re alike, you and I.”

“I’m alone because the Doctor left me,” Amy was shaking her head. “You were the one that left John. I know how he feels, Sherlock, you think it’s for the better but he just wants you back.”

Sherlock couldn’t meet her eyes.

“You think you’re protecting him,” her voice caught, “but you’re leaving him alone and broken.”

A/N: Another mass-post assault.  Enjoy!

PREVIOUS EPISODES:
Episode One: (COMPLETE)
Episode Two: (COMPLETE) 
Episode Three: (COMPLETE) 
Episode Four: 4.1, 4.2, 4.3, 4.4

PREVIEW FOR 4.2-4.4:

“It doesn’t matter,” Castiel said.  “I come with news.”

“News?” John asked.  “What sort of news?”

“A lead,” Castiel said.

Dean frowned.  “On?”

The angel held up a sheet of paper.  “The spear.  It was in our custody but not for long, even by human standards.  It was determined that it could not be held by any sphere.”

“So where is it?” Dean asked.

“Shattered,” Castiel said.  “Broken and scattered.  But present.”  He handed the paper to Dean who opened and began reading it as Castiel continued.  “At the end of the last ‘World War,’ the spear was brought here by the faction you call, ‘The Allies.’  The Americans offered to take it for safe keeping.  We intervened.”  Castiel walked the length of the room, staring out the windows.  “There was a fire in the warehouse they kept it in.  Balthazar and his regiment took the item, and, as commanded by authorities, broke it into three pieces.  One of the pieces remained in the warehouse, was discovered and later transported by the Americans to a confidential warehouse in Chicago.”

“And the other pieces?” Dean asked.

“Like I said,” Castiel murmured.  “Scattered.  Over the entire spanse of this land.”

“You mean Britain?” John asked.  “Were they ever found?”

“Yes,” Castiel said as he turned from the window.  “And that is where things become… complicated.”