A/N: I own neither Torchwood or Sherlock, both are owned by the mighty Beeb. I'm just mucking around with the characters. Set during Countrycide (Torchwood Season 1 episode 6) and post 'A Study in Pink' (Sherlock Season 1 episode 1)

Dr John Watson walked into his shared flat, and saw Sherlock playing the violin. He winced at the horrible squeaking noise, then was rendered speechless when Sherlock stood up abruptly and said, "John, pack your things we're going to Wales."

As Sherlock strode past him, carrying a small bag, John caught him and said, "One question. Why in God's name are we going to Wales?"

"Lestrade wants me to investigate a series of disappearances in a certain area of Wales. What makes it interesting is that these disappearances happen in bursts about every ten years and no corpse has ever been found. We also might meet a strange team, an obscure branch of the government that even Mycroft doesn't know much about, which needless to say vexes him greatly." Sherlock delivered all of this in a matter of fact tone and wearing a slight smile, most likely at Mycroft's discomfiture, then said, "Hurry up. Our train leaves in half an hour."

They took the train to Cardiff, then hired a car and drove to some place out in the welsh countryside. "This should be the place." Sherlock said "No one living for miles around. Yet this is the rough site of the disappearances according to the information Mycroft gave me. I may not like him much but he is usually right about this sort of thing."

"Someone got here before us." John said shortly, pointing at an erect tent about 20 feet away.

"Yes, that would probably be the obscure branch of government Mycroft doesn't know about. The large black SUV with the word 'Torchwood' stencilled onto the side gives it away a little." Sherlock said dryly. "Also the definitely non civilian or mainstream military equipment on the front seat helps."

"Torchwood? I thought that was destroyed the battle of Canary Wharf 3 years ago. A friend of mine died there. He had been seconded to them for a couple of months. They found his body 3 days after the battle. It was half cyberman." John said quietly reliving memories of the day metal men and pepper pot shaped flying monsters devastated London. Thankfully they mostly fought each other.

"Really?" Sherlock said, utterly disinterested. As John turned to berate him about his total lack of tact and empathy, he found himself looking down the barrel of a revolver. He raised his hands slowly and looked into the face of the man who was pointing a revolver at him. The man was relatively tall and was strongly built, wearing a second world war RAF coat oddly enough, with a well formed face and blue eyes that were currently rather icy. Not someone to be antagonised. He turned to Sherlock, who was scrutinising the man thoughtfully, then groaned inwardly as Sherlock began to deliver one of his 'I-know-more-about –you-than-you-do' speeches.

"You are far older than you look." Sherlock said abruptly. Instead of looking vaguely confused and insulted, the man raised a solitary eyebrow as if impressed. "And how did you work that out?" the man asked, revealing a strong American accent.

"Simple. Your gun is a Webley revolver, Second World War issue, as is your coat which has the disinctive markings of an RAF captain. Both show signs of very good care and that suggests you are either a time traveller or have achieved some kind of immortality. They can't be family heirlooms, as the jacket is fitted perfectly and the gun shows very small scratches at the top of the barrel where you cleaned it in a certain way each time, also the holster is very worn in a similar manner, meaning that unless you are an absolute carbon copy of your ancestors in every respect, the gun has always been yours and the jacket was made for you. Lastly, your eyes. They have a quality that I have never seen before." Sherlock seemed genuinely curious, John noted with interest. "It is similar to veterans eyes yet, there is something more. You were married, yet keep the ring and put it on every now and then, as shown by then faded pale bits of skin on various fingers of your right hand suggesting that your love one died, probably quite a while ago. I am interested in that device on your arm, I have never seen it's like."

The gun was lowered and Sherlock was subjected to a penetrating stare. He naturally returned it. After a couple of minutes, John coughed politely. They both turned.

"In case you hadn't noticed, we are meant to be investigating a series of disappearances. Or at least Sherlock and I are, and I presume that you are as well Mr..." John said, slightly exasperatedly.

"Harkness, Captain Jack Harkness." The tall man said. "And you're right, we're investigating the disappearances. Who are you? The last time I heard that sort of tone it was from someone who was...remarkable, and very strange." The tone was suddenly guarded, as if the man was assessing them to see if he could trust them with some information that he was hiding. "Do you have an old watch? Strange designs on it, you don't normally notice it?" Jack's grip on the revolver tightened.

"No." Sherlock said.

"I'm Sherlock Holmes and this is my partner, no not in that way," He continued, not missing a beat as Jack's eyebrows rose and he grinned, "John Watson".

Jack thought for a second then snapped his fingers. "The world's only consulting detective and a former army medic, served in Afghanistan, discharged from the army with a psychosomatic limp, which I see you've shaken off, well done by the way, and according to your ex therapist, 'trust issues'." When he saw their dumbfounded looks, or rather, Johns dumbfounded look and Sherlock's solitary raised eyebrow.

"A member of my team is an ex police officer, and mentioned that whenever they collaborated with Scotland Yard they always bitched about a certain Sherlock Holmes. You get almost as many complaints as we do, which is saying something. When John was mentioned in the reports on the Study in Pink, we decided to take a look." Sherlock gave Watson a long suffering look. "Kinda ironic you don't know about the solar system. We work with things...from outside it usually."

"Aliens. I thought as much. I assume the rest of your team carry guns, and as they are almost certainly as non general issue as yours, then it would show they do not work in any usual form of the security forces, and any alien weaponry would be too noticeable. It would also explain your presence, as you think that aliens are behind these disappearances, as would the rather large pile of unusual technology which I saw through the window of your interestingly decorated SUV." Sherlock stated in his explaining-to-lesser-mortals tone.

Jack turned to John and asked, "Does he do that all the time?" John nodded.

"And he plays the violin at 3 in the bloody morning. Or not play the violin, more like torture it." John said bitterly.

Jack laughed shortly. "I know the type. Does things strangely? Such as inventing the banana daiquiri 2 centuries early."

"He has a head in the fridge."

"Explains things at 100 miles per hour, leaving out the vital bits and expects you to understand, then acts as if you've grown horns when you don't?"

"Of course he does!"

Both cackled for a few moments then turned at Sherlock's incredulous look.

" Honestly, what is it like in your little minds? Blathering on about all sorts of nonsense when there are interesting murders to solve!" He asked.

Jack tilted his head. "Are you sure about the watch?" he asked sceptically

"Yes!" Sherlock said, exasperated and confused, a combination he virulently disliked. It prevented rational thought.

He composed himself. "Anyway, have you found anything yet?"

"No, we-" Jack paused as something came in over the comms.


"We got something Jack and you are not going to like this. We're just inside the woods." Owen said.

"On my way." Jack ended the call. "Well," he said turning to Sherlock, "I think we have something."