CHAPTER TWO: Planes, Helicopters, and Automobiles.

CHAPTER TWO: Planes, Trains  Helicopters, and Automobiles. 

Chapter One or Chapter Three

      Shortly after the plane touched down state side, at the John F. Kennedy International Airport, the three men, tired and jet lagged beyond belief emerge to exit through the gates. Navigating their way past the bustling crowds of new comers where the arrivals who were lucky enough to be greeted with open arms conjugated. Among the smiling faces and teary eyes, stood a man wearing a very long, very old and very navy blue coat. He stood out among all the others. He was tall, handsome – even from the perspective of most heterosexual males, his look was clean, ordered and above all timeless. He truly appeared as though he was from a different era, stepped forward from the pages of a history book long forgotten. Plus the sign he was holding that just read DOCTOR, drew attention.  The three men, John, Sherlock and the Doctor quickly made their way towards him. The man smirked for a moment when the three came into view. “Which one of you is the Doctor?” he asked aloud, his eyes mostly falling on Sherlock’s face. “Please, tell me that’s you.” he added with a grin. Who could blame him?

“You mean you don’t know?” John asked raising an eyebrow.

“With the Doctor? One never really knows.” The man replied only half-jokingly.

The Doctor stepped forward. “Hello, Jack.”

Jack’s gaze turned from Sherlock to the Doctor and a more awkward look took over his face as he took the Doctor in from head to toe and back again with his eyes. “Well, after our last meeting and your voice on the phone last night – I knew not to expect the old you, but…” He began trailing off.

“But what?” The Doctor asked, suddenly feeling insecure.

“Well at least the bow tie distracts from the chin… I like the hair though – still not ginger though.” Jack replied with a smirk.

“There is nothing wrong with the way I look. And I’ll have you know bowties are cool, very cool – and I know! 11th disappointment in a row.” The Doctor replied, informed and grumbled as he turned towards Sherlock and John who were standing quietly beside him. “Sherlock Holmes, Dr John Watson – this is…” but before he could get the interoduction out of the way, Jack cut in with a grin and an open palm greeting, towards Sherlock first.

“Captain Jack Harkness, at your service.”

Sherlock looked down at the greeting hand, not bothering to shake hello. “Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes, to be more precise. Tell me Captain Jack Harkness – Captain of what exactly?”
he enquired.

“I’m afraid the answer to that question is fairly long and classified.” Jack replied, turning his attention to John this time. “Captain Jack Harkness, at your service.” Same greeting, same extended palm, same charm.

John, unlike Sherlock, actually shakes his hand. “U.S. Military or U.S. Government?”  John asks, his curiosity beginning anew after being worn to shreds after his initial encounter with the Doctor.

“No – no – and no.” John replied as he flashed a cheeky smile.

John paused a moment, his face puzzled “That’s three no’s to two questions.”

“No to the military – no to the government – and no to the U.S.” John began as he turned to lead them out through a side exit and on to a small patch of concrete clearly set up as a helicopter pad... “Those answers are long, classified and complicated. This way gentleman. We have a lot of ground to cover and a very short amount of time to do it in. These boys don’t stay in one place for very long and you will not believe the amount of favors I had to call in just to track them down – a lot of fingers in a lot of pies… speaking of pies we might want to pick some up before we get there.” Jack replied and trailed off with that last thought.

“Boys?” Sherlock chimed in once more. “You mean you are not the one we are here to meet?” He asked aloud over the noise of an approaching helicopter that was coming in to touch down a mere 50 feet from where they now stood.

“No – I’m just your ride.” Jack replied as all four men locked eyes on the massive jet black helicopter that now awaited them. Whipping the air in pulse patterns about them, the engine roaring loudly, gun and cannon barrels reflecting the soft morning light that surrounded it.

John looked on a bit baffled at first, before looking once more to Jack. “Is that a Mil Mi-24?”

Jack smiled. “Modified and top of the line – you know your birds, I’m impressed.”

“Well I'm a Captain too - retired, Captain in the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers to be exact.”  John replied with subtle pride in his best matter of fact tone as he straightened his jacket.

“Well hello Captain.” Jack replied as the group moved to board the helicopter. Once inside in the slightly less noisy cabin, the guys took to their appropriate seats. “Now South Dakota is several states away from our current location here in New York, roughly 1500 miles – but if we buckle up and sit tight, we can probably arrive in time for lunch.” Jack informed and instructed.

“1500 miles? There is no way a Mil Mi-24 can make that in one trip.” John replied skeptically.

“Modified, Captain – Doctor Watson. It’s all in the upgrade.” Jack replied with a smile as the helicopter began its return to the air.

A few hours pass and sure enough, and just as Jack said they touched down in South Dakota without a stop between the two. The helicopter touched down in an open field with a small town not too far off in the distance. Jack escorts the men out and several feet away from the blade’s roar. Once in a place where sound could actually travel from one man to the next Jack begins a new set of instructions. “Head down this stretch of road about a quarter of a mile…. Or a little more or less than a quarter of a kilometer – I really need more sleep for conversion factors. Anyways, up ahead on the right you’ll come upon a junkyard, just carefully navigate your way through it – as you reach the back, an acadian style house will come into view – approach with caution. The guys are confirmed to be inside, but they don’t take too kindly to unannounced guests. I really have no idea how this is going to play out – whatever this is you have planned Doctor.” Jack warned, looking over to the Doctor.

The Doctor stood there for a moment, gazing off down the road in the direction Jack had laid out for them, biting his lip and doing very little to appear anything other than puzzled.

“You do have a plan, don’t you?” John asked the Doctor.

“Of course he has a plan… the Doctor always has a plan, don’tcha Doc?” Jack asked while trying to reassure John.

“Well, I know where we need to go – and I know that the Winchesters are the best way to get there… that was my plan – the extent of my plan.”  The Doctor replied at length.

“But as far as how you plan to convince them to help you – you have nothing in the way of a plan for that, do you?” Sherlock asked already knowing the lines along an answer would return.

The Doctor spun about to face the three of them once more “I just sort of figured that winging it with you two went so well, that it didn’t make sense to go and muck up this kind of luck with a plan.”

Jack smiled, now realizing that his sense of fashion wasn’t the only thing the Doctor lost with his last regeneration – thinking it, not saying it. “John I assume you know your way around one of these?” Jack asked as he produced a handgun from his belt holster.

John smiled “I’m a fair shot if memory serves right.” John replied as he accepted the gun Jack was offering him.

“Here, take two.  The Doctor never carries, these guys are never without.” Jack added as he produced yet another matching gun from another hidden holster.

“Jack, you know how I feel about firearms – this is hardly necessary.” The Doctor protested and he tried to interrupt the swap.

“I also know how these boys feel about trespassers – they are entirely necessary and probably insufficient.” Jack replied with no smile, his words echoed of jest, but his face lacked the expression to match.

John stepped back with the guns in hands “I say we put it to a vote.”

The Doctor's eyes widen as an excited grin took to his lips. “Great idea, here we are – land of democracy, voting – it’s fitting and more than brilliant, it’s perfect.” He said as he raised his hands up. “Everyone in favor of going in armed say ‘I’…”

“I” Replied John.

“I” Replied Sherlock.

“I” Replied Jack.

“Okay so two for the idea – Jack, you’re not even going in, hardly warrants a vote – and all opposed to the idea of armed, and feel free to vote twice say….”The Doctor began, but was quickly cut off when a loud voice spoke up from the field beside them.

“GUNS DOWN.”  The voice was deep with a rough, yet faded southern drawl. His jeans were ripped along the joints, which matched his grease stained shirt which was only hidden so much by an equally worn out green jacket. His boots caked in mud and his face glazed with sweat and oil, and above all other possible accessories that could be paired with this classic junkyard look, it was the sawed off shot gun he held in his hands aimed squarely at the four men that really commanded attention. “I AM NOT ALONE. YOU ARE SUROUNDED. I WILL USE THIS IF THE SITUATUION WARRANTS IT – IF YOU UNDERSTAND YOU WILL LOWER YOUR WEAPONS AND GREET THE SKY WITH YOU HANDS.”

John slowly lowered the firearms to the ground, standing and backing up a few paces with his hands up as told. Jack and the Doctor followed suit, Sherlock just folded his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes back mumbling “Hardly surrounded” under his breath.

                                                                                                                               

“IS this how he normally greets people?” The Doctor began to ask Jack, looking over to the new comer “IS THIS HOW YOU NORMALLY GREET PEOPLE?” He asked shouting aloud.

The newcomer approached slowly “Nope, just the ones who drop by way of military grade Mil Mi-24  helicopter. Who exactly are you guys and what’s your business here?” the man asked, now close enough not to shout, but gun still at the ready.

“A man who knows his birds! Hi, I’m Captain Jack Harkness.” Jack said not stepping forward, but offering an open palm and a dazzling smile none the less.

A gesture that clearly left the man UN amused. “Are you for real… is he for real?” the man asked looking over to the Doctor.

“Hard to say – I lost track a good while back, but I’m the Doctor and you are?” The Doctor asked, hand still up.

“Still wondering about tweedle tall and tweedle small over here.”  The man replied with a smirk, clearly he amused himself a bit.

“This is Sherlock Holmes, he is a consulting detective… he detects things.” The Doctor began.

“A What detective?” the man questioned again – becoming a habit with him.

“A consulting Detective who detects things – kind of a novel idea really.” Sherlock began to chime in. “It’s a useful skill, comes in handy in any given measure of time. It’s a skill set that allows me to tell just by looking at you that you are a liar and we are in fact not surrounded,” he began.

“Keep talking – I’m listening.” The man replied, still not lowering his weapon of course.

“Hearing maybe, but hardly listening – let’s see if we can change that, shall we?” He asked with a smile as sarcastic as the tone that ushered it. “You’re covered in engine grease and reek of petrol, clearly not someone who was in any way prepared for a visit from anyone – friend or foe, military or civilian. The petrol alone tells us certainly, someone who was not or even now is in anyway prepared for a firefight, one spark in the wrong place and you’ll go up in flames like Olympic torch. Your clothing’s a mess and yet you appear to be well fed – hardly squatting, hardly starving. Still, whoever is acting as your keeper enough to feed you, cares not for your image enough to see your shirts spot conditioned, so clearly we can rule out women of any kind. You use a bit of product in your hair, but your fingers are in desperate need of a decent manicure - so likely any men around are of the heterosexual variety. The necklace around your neck doesn't appear as nothing of any particular style or value, so you are likely sentimental – adding this with the fact that you are not alone, yet barely cared for I’d say we could have another male figure waiting in the wings, father perhaps? No, if it was Daddy dearest he would be standing here and you would be the one waiting in the wings. If it was your Uncle he would likely at the very least stand beside you – so cousin or brother? As guarded as you are, I’ll venture Brother; men who appear as you do, aren't usually the centers of extended families.”  Sherlock ever so smugly turner away from the man, who was still holding the readied shotgun, to face Jack. “Tell me Captain Jack Harkness – may I have the name of the eldest brother?”  He asked aloud.

“Winchester, Dean Winchester.” replied Jack with a satisfied grin of his own.  

Sherlock returned his gaze, this time over his shoulder towards the man. “Once more from the top, Mr. Dean Winchester, I am consulting detective Sherlock Holmes and this is my partner Doctor John Watson.” Sherlock added as he gestured towards John, introducing them.

Suddenly another man emerged from hiding, carrying a rifle in his hand, but keeping it at his side and shifted towards the ground. This man was much taller than the other, with longer shaggier hair. Dressed in a plaid shirt, complete with pearled button snaps, he too was also wearing faded jeans, but his were far better kept than that of his brothers, his boots were also fairly spotless in comparison. For him the most noticeable feature, aside from his height - was the wide and luminescent smile he greeted them with, specifically John. “You mean, like the blogger Dr. John Watson?” He asked, walking up to offer a hand in greeting. 

“The very same,” John replied with a smile, shaking the man’s hand. “You know -it’s funny because I can get a sort of overview of the reader geography and I knew there were some hits from the U.S. just always sort of written them off as accidents - stumblers. Never figured it would interest anyone outside the isle much, but yet here we are.”

Sam nodded as he listened. “Yeah, Well I can’t speak for everyone, but I can’t get enough.” He replied as he glanced over towards Sherlock, looking back to John. “Is that who I think it is?”

John nodded “One and only.” he replied as he watched Sam’s smile grow even wider with his words, it was flattering to imagine he had readers this far out.

“SAM!” Dean called out. “Dude, not helping!”  He added, grabbing his brother's attention with his disapproving tone.

Sam sighed “I’ll be right back.” he mumbled to John as he turned to join his brother’s side.  “Dean – I don’t know who all these people are, but I know if those two are here it must be something pretty important.”

“I think the helicopter gave that much away.  You don’t expect me to trust these people because you read a blog do you?” Dean asked, not taking his eyes off the four.

“Dean - trust me, these guys are good – or good enough to test if that’s what it takes to hear them out. Let’s just get them inside – off the main road,” Sam pleaded.

Dean stood for a moment, clearly weighing out his options in his mind. Finally he lowered his shotgun, walking past the group in the direction of the junkyard, taking a moment to stare each one of them down, well each one, except Sherlock. “This way”

“Not for me, thanks – I have work elsewhere to get back too.” Jack said gesturing back towards the awaiting helicopter.  “Doctor, good seeing you again.” Jack said stepping closer to the Doctor.

“Seeing you becomes easier with each encounter.Thank you for your help. I’m not accustomed to being this stranded.” The Doctor replied with a weak smile as he began to say goodbye to his old friend.

“Any time I can help – I can help.” Jack replied with a warm smile, not nearly as dashing as his others, but just as genuine. “You’ll get her back.” He added as he looked around at the others. “Fellas, it’s been a pleasure. I’d say keep in touch, but WE aren't the types – are we?” he asked as he returned his look to the Doctor, embracing his old friend in a hug. “Once again – good bye, Doctor,” he almost whispered before turning and finally walking back towards the helicopter once more.  A final wave back with his hand as he did so.

The remaining men: the Doctor, Sherlock, and John, turned to follow Dean towards the junkyard, leaving Sam walking last in place and alone to fetch the hand guns from the ground. They tracked their way through the Junkyard and onto the porch of the house. And one by one, in an awkward make shift line, each passed under a large Devil’s trap symbol that served as a halo for the house's entrance way. Neither Dean nor Sam bothered to mention the symbol or its purpose, but both took note of the results – so far the three strangers are on the level.  The group entered the closest thing the house had to a living room – a make shift room that served as the living room, the library and study.  All three of the visitors took notice of the very unique theme the cluttered room held. The heavy occult vibe was inescapable, and not one man took a seat before it was offered.

“Can I get you guys anything to drink?” Sam began to ask. “Coffee, Soda, Beer?”

“Some tea would be lovely if you have it.” John replied.

“I think we can manage something.” Dean replied in a tone that was not completely free of sarcasm, as he and Sam excused themselves into the kitchen for a moment.  Sam pulled a large plastic jug from the refrigerator. It was half full of what the label declared as tea. Looking over the container for an expiration, he found one that was too light to be legible. “Any idea how old this is?”

Dean shrugged his shoulder “Your guess is as good as mine.”   

Sam proceeded to pop the lid off and take a sniff, followed by a taste. “Kosher too me,” he said after a swish and swallow.

“Perfect.” Dean replied taking it from him and proceeding to add about half a liter of holy water to the mix.

“Dean – I don’t really think that’s necessary,”  Sam whispered, voicing his disapproval.

“You’re probably right Sammy, but I’d rather know – grab some glasses would ya.” Dean replied as he gave the jug a good shake.

After a short time, Dean and Sam both emerged from the kitchen. Dean, with a cold beer in hand leaned against one of the far walls, as Sam passed a glass to each of the visitors.  Each one took a moment to examine their beverage.

“Everything alright?” Sam asked.

“Tea – in a glass with ice.” The Doctor replied with a curious smile. “Iced tea – Don’t think I've ever had it this way.” He added.

John nodded “Come to think of it – not sure I have either.”

“I didn't know there was any other way.” Dean remarked under his breath, amused for a moment.

“Now that I believe.” Sherlock remarked, less quietly.

“Cheers to new experiences then?” John suggested, holding out his glass.

The three glasses met, yes even Sherlock’s, and with one final glance the Doctor added one less finesse to the toast. “Geronimo.” And with that each took a sip.

“Holy Water?!” The Doctor exclaimed as he glanced over to Sam “What will you American’s think of next… It’s different, good different.”

Both Sam and Dean stood there in silence. It wasn't the reaction they had expected, and certainly a first. Finally Dean spoke up. “What – just- happened?”  he asked aloud. 

“I’m not sure…” John replied staring down at his glass. “Did you say Holy water?” He asked looking at the Doctor then back to Sam and Dean. “Did you put Holy water in theses?”

“Yes they did! I think it’s delicious – it’s wHoly refreshing.” The Doctor replied with a tickled grin.

“You can taste that? You can taste that, but you’re not affected by it?” Sam asked the Doctor curiously. “A first for me.”

“So you did put holy water in the tea?” John asked, more confused than anything.

Sherlock sighed as he sat the glass down on a nearby table. “Honestly John there’s no need to be so surprised,. Look around – they probably bathe in the stuff. Question is, why? Why would you spike our drinks with a blessed elixir?”

“I’m still trying to figure out why he can taste it and not be affected by it.” Dean replied aloud, his eyes pinned on the Doctor.

“It’s a test.” Same began walking towards Sherlock and John. “We don’t get too many visitors, or at least not too many that don’t call ahead. It’s been a rough few months for us on levels you probably wouldn't believe. We, or more specifically my Brother, wanted to make sure you were on the level,” Sam tried to explain.

“And what level is it that requires serving us Holy Water?” John asked.

“Mostly a Demonic one.” Sam replied honestly.

Any other day John and Sherlock both would have rolled their eyes and quietly, but quickly, walked away. This wasn't a normal day, or days rather. The two men just sort of shot the Doctor a please explain glance and gesture combo that wasn't far removed from the one John expressed to Sherlock when this whole mess began. The Doctor just returned with a gesture of his own hands, begging their patience a bit further, before turning to Dean once more. “Now Dean  - Sam, you are both clever boys, tell me what you think I am?”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t know – I mean you walked under the Devil’s trap easily enough and all three of you drank the holy water without incidence, but you tasted it – or at least you say you can taste it, but no usual demonly reactions.”

“Devil’s Trap?” Sherlock asked this time.

“Magical and invisible cage. It was carved into the celling in the foyer, can’t miss it Sherlock.”  The Doctor replied.

“I noticed, but things became a bit distracting since.” Sherlock defended a replied.

Sam approached the Doctor. “So, not a demon. An angel could pick up on it, but they don’t usually arrive via military grade helicopters,” Sam suggested aloud.

“But stranger things have happened… so, are you an Angel?” Dean asked.

The Doctor smiled wider, pleased with the group he was slowly pulling together. “Time Lord actually. Not a demon, not an angel, just a good old fashioned time lord. One who’s in need of your help I might add.”

Dean shook his head “And what, exactly, is a Time Lord?”

“A Time Lord is a time lord. A race of people that hail from Gallifrey, or would if there were more of us left, if there was a Gallifrey left, - but in short I think the answer you’re really looking for is; alien, I am, from the human perspective – an Alien,”  The Doctor replied honestly, much to the surprise and disbelief of everyone in the room, as their face’s reflected well.

Dean just set his beer aside, pulling his phone from his back pocket, his head down, one hand rubbing the bridge of his nose and the other holding the phone to his ear. “Yeah, Cas got a minute?”

Fan Art By: Lyndsey Gerlach 12/2012 - The Doctor and The Detective