Out With a Whimper

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Out With a Whimper

Post by crazychick » Thu 1st Mar 2012

This is for my little sister, Nerbua. ;) It's a Sherlock/Doctor Who/OC sort of thing, and I hope you enjoy it. :P

    The girl sat alone in the cafe, waiting for her dates to arrive. She'd sent all three of them the exact same note, inviting them to dine with her that  evening. They would all be there, she knew, and the tallest would arrive there first. He always did.
The door swung open at the front of the establishment, chilling the smaller restaurant with an icy London breeze. In walked a man, his collar turned up against the biting wind. His black curly hair was ruffled and wild, doubtlessly due to the weather outside. He ran his fingers though the tangled mass, hoping to fix it up before she spotted him. A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth as his dark eyes met hers. There she was. 
    Sherlock strolled across the room and took a seat by the girl, flashing her a smile as he sat. "Hello, Nerbua," he murmured softly, pulling off his gloves and tucking them in his coat pocket. "I got your note."
    Nerbua grinned, tucking a strand of golden hair behind one ear. "I guessed." she crossed her arms over her chest, one eyebrow raised. "You're early," she remarked. "As usual."
    "So are you," he shot back, trying not to smile. "That's new."
    The girl smiled. Sherlock detected a hint of sadness in the expression. "Well, yeah. It's a big night, after all."  Her words confirmed his suspicions. Something was wrong.
    And he thought he knew what it was. He sighed inwardly. "You're breaking up with me," he muttered, his gaze downcast.
    Nerbua frowned. "What makes you think that?"
    The detective looked up, his expression placid. "That smile of yours was not a happy one. Your demeanor implies that the 'big night' is not a happy occasion, and you arrived earlier than I did for once. You're  nervous, or ready to get going," his eyes met hers. "What am I supposed to think?"
    "You're supposed to t-"
    "Why, hello there!" a voice called from behind her, cutting Nerbua off mid-sentence. She spun around in her seat to find a tall, ever-familiar man standing by her chair. His dark hair was slicked to the side, and his tweed jacket was accompanied by his trademark satin bow tie. He'd worn the red, her favourite color. The man's endless green eyes were now trained on Sherlock, staring at him as if he could see into his soul. Sherlock returned the glare.
   "You're a time traveller," he murmured, reading the man's green eyes like an open book.
    The newcomer raised his eyebrows in surprise. He seemed completely taken aback by the other man's analysis. Casting a side glance at Nerbua, he sat down in the booth and shoved her to the other side, his gaze focused on the man across the table. Nerbua slid down the bench, watching the men with avid curiosity.
    The time traveller leaned forward in his seat, carefully studying Sherlock. Eventually he settled back, his arms crossed petulantly across his chest.
    "How could you POSSIBLY know that?! Did Nerbua tell you?"
    Nerbua looked on in shock. "I didn't tell him anything!" she hissed, eyes wide. "He figured it out himself!"
    "And how did he do that?" murmured the man, still looking at Sherlock.
    Nerbua sighed. "Doctor, perhaps another time...?" she asked hopefully.
   Sherlock shook his head, staring straight into this Doctor's eyes.  "No need, Nerbua. If he's curious, he ought to know." A ghost of a smile touched the detective's face. This was what he did best.
    "The way you walk is simply out of time. The slightest slouch conveys familiarity with old roads, different paths to keep your eye on. You look down. Your hair is the style that would meld into six different eras all at once. Slip by unnoticed with a compatible look and no one would notice that you were there. Your outfit is simply outdated, the tweed jacket a sore thumb and the suspenders a bore," he paused. "That, and no one wears bow ties anymore. Particularly not satin. But the most obvious sign is your eyes. Those eyes are an old man's eyes. They've seen much, much more than a man of your age could have possibly been exposed to, and there is an extensive knowledge buried within them. You, my good Doctor, are no 
ordinary man." His eyes narrowed. "And no doctor, I'm sure."
    The Doctor gaped openmouthed, his gaze flickering between Sherlock and his date. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. The Doctor's voice raised in pitch as he cried, "How do you DO that?! That is PHYSICALLY impossible! How could you call my hair funny and know that I'm a time traveller?" he sniffed, feigning injured dignity. "And the bow tie is COOL, alright?"
    Nerbua smiled, reaching over and straightening his bow tie. Sherlock raised an eyebrow, eyeing his date as she toyed with the Doctor's tie.  
    "Nerbua, who is he? Really? Aside from a time traveller with an odd taste in clothes," murmured Sherlock, his brow furrowed curiously.
   "Haven't you been listening?" cried the other man. "I'm the Doctor!" he beamed.
    Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Right. But are you two... Together?" 
   Nerbua looked at each man in turn, for both of them waited for an answer. "That's why we're  here, gentlemen." she smiled nervously. "Now all we're waiting for is-"
    "Captain Jack Harkness!" roared a tumbling mass of navy as it slammed into Sherlock, knocking him down to the other side of the booth. A man sat where Sherlock had been, his twinkling blue eyes shining out from a beaming face. His dark brown hair was swept to one side, and his navy blue waistcoat was fitted against his muscular arms. He looked at Nerbua, a dazzling smile etched across his face. 
    "It's great to see you again, Nerbua." he took her hand in his, lifting it to his mouth for the slightest of kisses. 
    Sherlock's cheeks colored ever so slightly. Why hadn't he ever thought of doing that? 
    The Greek god turned his smile towards the other end of the booth. His teeth were so white it was practically blinding. Jack extended a hand to the pallid detective.
    "Jack Harkness," he stated proudly, unnecessarily reintroducing himself. Sherlock gazed at the man before him, quite obviously unwilling to shake his hand.
    Both Nerbua and the Doctor watched the scene with raised eyebrows. A warning chorus of "Jack..." arose from the other side of the table. 
    The newcomer frowned, dropping his hand and glaring at the ones who had spoken.
    "I was just saying hello...!" he protested, his cheeks flushing ever so slightly.
    The Doctor frowned. "It's never just 'hullo' with you."
    Jack cocked his head curiously, studying the eccentric young man across from him. "Doctor?" he asked uncertainly. "Have you regenerated since we last met?"
    An eyebrow shot skyward. "What would make you say that?" Nerbua murmured, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips.
    "You're a time traveller, too," Sherlock said sharply, his gaze set on Jack and his brow furrowed. "Although you haven't been in a while. What made you stop, money or a girl?"
    The Greek god looked to Nerbua, his smile widening. "A girl," he stated shamelessly. "But not just any girl. My girl..." he trailed off, his mirth giving way to confusion. His gaze met Sherlock's as he murmured, "Wait a second. How did you know that?"
    Sherlock rolled his eyes in an expression of distaste. "Well, isn't it obvious?" his voice had regained its monotone spin. "You're-"
    "He just knows, alright?" Nerbua interrupted, halting the conversation before it could really get going. "He does that, he can take one look at you and know everything about you from a glance." she locked eyes with each man in turn. 
    "But that's not why we're here. I need to talk to you. All of you." 
   The Doctor shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  He paused before asking, "What about?" 
    Nerbua sighed. "Listen. You know that I love all my boys. All three of you are very, very special to me, each in your own way." a sad smile lurked at the corner of her mouth. "The thing is... I don't want to date all of you. Not at the same time. I think I need to cut three boys," her gaze settled on the salt shaker, avoiding the stares of the men around the table. 
    "Down to one," she finished awkwardly.
    The men sat in silence, each struggling to digest the news. After several moments of tense silence, someone slowly raised his hand. 
    "I volunteer," said the Doctor,  his childlike demeanor returned to him. He grinned at the girl beside him, surprised when she wouldn't look him in the eye. 
    A single tear slid down her cheek. "The thing is, Love," she said softly. "I'm not taking volunteers."
    Jack laughed nervously. "That means she already made up her mind."
    "Oh, really?" Sherlock drawled sarcastically. "I'd never have guessed."
   Nerbua shot him a withering glare. "Jack's correct, actually." she said, returning her attention to the entire audience. "I've already decided who I'm... In love with."
    A smile inched across the Doctor's thin face. "Is it me?" he murmured hopefully. "I think it's me."
    "I bet you do," Jack uttered, his arms folded across his chest. "You're the Doctor. You think you'll get everything you want. You always do." he glared at the Doctor. "Especially the blondes."
    "Hey, that's not quite fair...!" the Doctor protested.
   Sherlock stared at his girlfriend, surveying every dip and curve of her expression and immediately analyzing it. Without removing his gaze from the girl, he murmured, "Not this time."
    Nerbua nodded her assent. It wouldn't be the Time Lord.
    The Doctor's face fell. "Not this time, eh?" he replied, sliding out of the booth. "Ah, well. I understand," he stood by the booth, a wide smile plastered across his face. There were tears in his eyes. "I've got to get going, I suppose. Places to see, people to go." he propped himself up on the table, leaning forward to speak in a whisper. 
    "There's a planet by Clom made completely out of cotton candy. Oddly enough, the people who live there never eat it. The majority of them are cannibalistic." he spun around, ambling off towards the door without another word. 
    Nerbua sprang from the booth and followed after him, catching him just before he could exit the cafe. 
    "Doctor..." she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Wait."
    He turned to her with sad eyes. "How can I wait? I've got so much to do...!" he gently brushed a tear from her cheek. "Don't worry about me. I've still got River to keep me company." a thin smile graced his tired face. "Give me a call and I'll pick you up sometime. We'll still travel, if you're interested," he tucked a strand of golden hair behind one ear. The Doctor's voice fell to a whisper. "An ancient race that used to live on Raxicorocifalapitorious somehow adapted with their belly buttons on their foreheads..." he grinned. "Can you imagine the umbilical chord?"
    Nerbua laughed, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Can you imagine the birth?"
    The Time Lord gazed at her, his emerald eyes filled with pain. He still managed to smile at her, despite the odds. "Goodbye, Nerbua." he cupped her face in his hands, kissing her forehead with a gentle touch. "Be good for Jack, alright?"
    Nerbua started in surprise. "What makes you think I picked Jack?"
    His hand dropped to her shoulder, squeezing it gently. "You're not picking that creepy vampire, are you?" He winked at her and disappeared, swinging out of the door and out onto the street. 
    Back to his Tardis.

    "What do you suppose they're talking about?" Jack murmured, peering curiously at his girlfriend and her partner as they talked by the door.
    Sherlock craned around the other man, his eyes narrowed to read their lips.  "Raxacor... Something... Button forehead..."
    "That'll be Raxacorocifalipatorius," Jack muttered absently. 
    The detective sat back in his chair, one eyebrow raised beneath his curly hair. "Raxacorocofalipatorius?" he said dubiously. 
    Jack's cerulean eyes settled on Sherlock. "You're the first person I've ever met who pronounced that right on the first try."
    "I have a tendency to be correct," Sherlock uttered, shrugging off the praise. "But what is it, exactly? I don't believe that it's a term I've heard before."
    The time traveler rolled his eyes at the other man's naïveté. "It's a planet, genius. Don't tell me she's never told you about her traveling...?"
    Sherlock shook his head.
    A cocky smile flickered across Jack's face. "That's too bad," he replied, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket to reveal a large black watch around his wrist. Sherlock leaned closer for a better look.
    "This here is a standard-issue Vortex Manipulator," he remarked, pressing buttons on the center console. "These create a fast and easy way to time travel. They used to be all over the place before they were declared illegal," he explained. "Too many of these running around could rip a hole in the fabric of time and space."
    Sherlock's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You have one," he drawled, his expression laced with silent mocking. Jack didn't notice.
    "He doesn't deal well with the law," Nerbuamurmured as she slipped back into the booth. Her eyes shone out from a tear-streaked face, but her mouth was twisted into a dazzling smile. "And come to think of it, neither do you, Sherlock."
    A ghost of a smile touched the detective's face. "True enough," he mumbled.
    Jack leaned forward in his seat, his gaze trained on the girl across the table. "Nerbua... Tell him you pick me."
    A thin eyebrow shot skyward. "Cutting to the chase, aren't you, Jack?" Nerbua winked at him. "Wouldn't you like to wait just a bit longer to find out?"
    Sherlock threw the Greek god a sideways glare, waiting for his answer. 
    "No," he said bluntly. "I want to know whether or not you still love me."
    Nerbua's gaze met Jack's. "Of course I love you, Jack." 
    Sherlock's heart sank.
    "But I'm not IN love with you. Not anymore."
    Jack stood. "I see." his face twisted into an ugly grimace.
    Nerbua frowned at him. "Jack, don't do this."
    Jack's gaze met hers, his eyes hardened with pain. "I didn't do anything," he said quietly. "I guess I'll see you around."
    The Greek god left the establishment, the little bell on the door signaling his departure. Nerbua didn't go after him. She knew it wouldn't change anything. 
    He would still be heartbroken.
    And he'd still bring his next girl to that same little restaurant only a matter of days after later. That's the kind of person Jack Harness was.

    The remaining two sat alone on either side of the table, both absorbed in thought. He waited for her to say something, anything to break the silence between them. She never did. Her fingers rested on the table, gently tapping a slow tune that Sherlock recognized immediately.
    "That's our song," he said slowly, his fingers lightly covering hers. Her hand was cold, he thought, surprised that he even cared.
    Nerbua nodded, swallowing silent tears that Sherlock had ignored before. "Yeah, it is," she murmured, smiling up at her remaining partner.
    Sherlock watched her, dying to speak what was on his mind. She could see it in his expression. 
    "What are you thinking, Sherlock?" she asked with a grin, turning her hand under his until they were holding each other's. She liked the feeling of his hand on hers.
    Sherlock curiously peered over the table, his grey eyes shining as he replied, "You chose me."
    Nerbua nodded, her smile growing as she noticed a little red box concealed behind his elbow. It had probably been there the whole night.
    "I did," she said softly, biting her lip to hide the grin breaking through.
    Sherlock leaned forward, his voice dropping to a shaky whisper. "But no one ever picks me," he said softly.
    Nerbua reached behind his elbow, holding the little red box in her fingers. She flipped the lid open, a wide smile lighting up her face. She inched the ruby engagement ring from its perch, sliding it onto her finger with a smile. Nerbua took Sherlock's hand once again, peering into his light grey eyes.
    "I believe a lot of things are about to change for you, Mr. Holmes." 
    She leaned into her fiancé, her face flushing a soft pink as their lips met, ending the eventful night with a bang.
    Sherlock broke the contact, smiling at his girl from across the table. 
    "I can't wait to see, Mrs. Holmes."
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Re: Out With a Whimper

Post by Nerbua » Thu 1st Mar 2012

I absolutely love that!!! Thanks, CC!!!! *glomp* Love yah, sis ;)


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Re: Out With a Whimper

Post by Star*7 » Thu 1st Mar 2012

*applause* I remember this story. ;)

Thanks for sending me the link, by the way. It was appreciated. :) I love it! Charming and sweet, especially the bit at the end there.
Very well-written. :)
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