Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or Doctor Who. I'm quite certain BBC does. I think. Maybe. It would make sense if it did. Erm.

AN: I really hope you can excuse my use of an OC in this story. I know they're frowned upon in fanfics, but frankly? The actual Doctor Who show and the expanded universe do it all the time. You can deal with it.

AN 2: This happens in the same universe as the short story "Sherlock Wholmes, the Doctor and Whatson". But that's just a by the way, not something amazingly relevant.

To: silverrosekitsuneinu from over on dA. She caught my kiriban (pageview number) there and requested this as a prize. Well, maybe not the way I'm doing it, but the plot got a bit away from me.


She kicked the controls hard, her heel breaking on contact with one of the levers, flying through the air and falling on the floor some way away. But she didn't notice the damage to her boots.

"Come on, come on, you stupid and wonderful piece of crappy, brilliant machinery! COME ON!" She swapped away at an escaping strand of hair. "I loatheyou," she growled. But it might just as well have been "I love you," neither her feelings or her pronunciation being particularly clear at that moment.

The TARDIS shook. She lost her footing and slammed down her heelless boot, which further unbalanced her. She grabbed one of the pillars on her way towards the floor, swore again and got back to her feet, ripping the second heel away to make the boots equal.

She briefly considered turning off the gravitational device and solving issues that way, but if there was one thing she had drilled into all of her students and which she herself would never discard, it was this one: when in crisis, do not remove the symptoms of said crisis. Tension was good for keeping you alert.

But the shaking was becoming worse and worse. She looked ahead of her, as if speaking to a physical incarnation of the trouble. "I will not die," she said decisively. "I won't!"

She kicked the gravitational device off and all the trembling stopped. She fell on the ground in relief, her hearts finally catching up with the excitement, her muscles relaxing instantly. She could feel the tiredness seep down into the floor from her body and her eyes closed.

Yes, this was the feeling she wasn't allowed to have, she thought, just as her body demanded that she waited just another minute. Perhaps a nap would be in order, too.

She reached towards a button and clicked on her music device. When lacking symptoms of crisis in a crisis, one must emulate them.

The singing started. She picked herself up in the ominous sound of a whispering quire and instruments that sounded like an approaching swarm of killer bees that had destroyed planets. There were church bells and occasional drums and the general feeling that the Devil himself was sitting behind you, breathing down your neck more literally than he should.

Life is dying, all life is dying, stars are extinguishing, I can hear the voices crying, I can see the weeping angels flying, hail, hail, hail, living hell.

Bad poetry. Horrid poetry. But correct in its verses. She took a single second to appreciate her own appropriateness, inhaling deeply. She was an Artist. Then she opened her eyes and reality came back with a whirl.

She kicked the TARDIS again with all her strength. "MOVE!" She'd be lucky to escape this. Very lucky.

Her mind flew to the one person who could possibly have caused this. "Doctor."

AN: Reviews are nice.