|Children of Gallifrey
Author: inthelookingglass PM
The Gallifreyans have one last hope to restore their place in the universe- The Children of Gallifrey. The Doctor and company have to battle against the odds to stop them. Superwholock.Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Hurt/Comfort - 11th Doctor & Sam W. - Chapters: 57 - Words: 73,045 - Reviews: 40 - Favs: 46 - Follows: 54 - Updated: 02-20-13 - Published: 06-06-12 - id: 8190296
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
About four or five years ago, the odd nightmare about a stranger wouldn't have made Sam apprehensive like this. In fact, they were almost normal for him. So normal, in fact, that the odd vision-like dreams hit him like a ton of bricks during the day too. Heck, sometimes they'd come with a built in migraine too, which of course did wonders for his state of happiness. Considering that the demon who'd made him like that was dead, and he hadn't had that kind of dream for god knows how long, it was safe to say that by the third night of seeing the same thing happen all over again, something wasn't right.
Having refused sleep for three days, telling Dean that he needed to focus on finding the evil ghost lady, or whatever it was they were hunting this time, he couldn't hold it off any longer. Sleep over took him, forcing his eyelids shut with it's warm welcoming hands.
The man's coat swirled as he jumped off the tiny roof wall, his laugh filling the air, curdling the other man's blood with desperation. The clicking of his shoes, battering against the cement floor of the hospital's roof edged closer towards the shorter man.
"What?" there was a glint in the shorter man's eye and in the way he smiled, that proved he possessed no morals of a good man. "What did I miss?"
"You're not going to do it?" the intelligence glimmered in the man's tone, as he stood over the other with superiority. "So the killers can be called off then?"
The scene swirled inside of Sam's head as he tossed and turned in the uncomfortable motel bed. He desperately tried to fight against the barriers of tiredness, but crashed back down in defeat as they repelled him backwards, straight back into the nightmare.
"No...you're not." the shorter man's eyes squinted, his head swayng side to side, with movements like a snake as he smiled, his lips spreading wide across his face, but his eyebrows remained still and unmoving. "I see... You're not ordinary... You're me... You're me! Thank you...Sherlock Holmes."
The taller man- Sherlock- accepted the hand that Moriarty had held out for him to shake without a glimmer of apprehension. His eyes were cold without feeling, peircing into the dark slits half way down the other man's face.
"Thank you..." the smaller man said, in an almost inaudible whisper, that screamed like the loudest of screams in Sherlock's ears. "Bless you. As long as I'm alive, you can save your friends. You've got a way out. Well good luck with that!"
His mouth gaped wide, and had Sherlock not been the rational man he'd grown to become, he'd have thought that the man- whose name was Moriarty, Sam had realised after the second time he'd seen the dream- was about to morph into some kind of monster- not that he wasn't one already. The silver gun glinted in the sun, and with the realisation about what was about to happen Sherlock pulled away in honest terror, as Moriarty angled the gun at his own throat, spilling his thick red tainted blood on the ground.
Sam sensed that he was sweating, but no matter how many times he tried to break free, he'd discovered that it was impossible.
Sherlock was hyperventilating now, purging himself with oxygen, knowing that in just moments to come, he'd need all the oxygen he could get.
His coat circled in the wind as he held the phone to his ear, glaring down at his good friend, who was stood apprehensively in front of the building, albeit where he was about to land was out of his viewpoint.
"Goodbye John..." his voice rang through his friend's phone, as the realisation hit him, forcing a single tear down his cheek.
"No..." John stumbled over the word, as the two words of his friend buzzed through his ears repeatedly.
The phone hurtled behind him, onto the roof.
"N-... SHERLOCK!" John's voice was no less than a scream, but to himself, it sounded more like the faintest of whispers.
Sherlock spread his arms out wide, almost as if he was immitating an angel, but no. He may have been on the side of the angels, but he was most defintely not one of them. He jumped almost instantly, flying towards the ground effortlessly. Just before he hit the floor, Sam could swear that part of the fall hadn't occured, as if the strange man had jumped off the roof, and instantly crashed against the pavement, his blood dripping down the kerb.
Sam jolted awake, shivering and shaking, although his warm body was glazed with sweat. He winced as the all too familar pain filled his head. The same pain he'd felt when the visions forced him onto the ground. The same pain he'd felt when he was stood, trying to exorcise a demon with blood dripping down his nose. It was then he noticed that his nose was actually bleeding, and thrust himself off the bed and into the kitchen to get a towel to hold against it, to make sure they didn't have to pay for staining the bed sheets.
"Sammy?" Dean sat up, looking over at his brother. "Hey, you okay?"
"M'fine..." he mumbled, the image of the falling man still etched into his conscious thoughts. "Slammed the door in my face when I got up to use the bathroom. I was tired."
"Pinch your nose with the cloth, then lean your head back."
"No, the blood goes down the back of your throat if you do that."
"Lean your head forward then. Oh and don't try lying to me. You woke me up about twenty minutes ago, screaming like a banshee. I tried to wake you up, but... I've been pretending to sleep since. What happened?"
"Pretty bad one, by the looks of it."
"Dean..." Sam pleaded, looking up at his brother. "M'head hurts."
"So it's that kind of nightmare. But Sam, how's that even possible? Azazel is dead! Gone!"
"I don't know. It feels... different. It's the third time I've had the same dream."
"What's the dream, Sammy?"
"Two suicides. One man was evil, psyching the other guy out before blowing his brains out. The other was intelligent and flung himself off the roof."
"Look it could be nothing. Probably from watching that crime show that was on the other week there."
"But it could be something, Dean. We can't just ignore it."
"We'll just keep an eye on the news, Sammy."
"Dean, something's not right. I know it's a vision. I refuse to ignore this!"
"Fine, we'll investigate. Any leads on where we're heading?"
"The man jumped off a hospital roof."
"Did you manage to catch the name of the hospital?"
"Isn't that in London?"
"That's what I thought."
"We're not going to England, Sammy."
"I didn't say that. I'll do some research, okay?"