Sherlock looked down to where John was standing across from St. Bart's. His dark curly hair was even more disorderly than usual due to a breeze and his eyes were the same hard, grey, emotionless color as the January sky. John was standing where he had gotten out of the cab and where Sherlock had instructed him to go back to.

"Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?" He held out his arm as if to reach for John, even though he was on the ledge of the hospital's roof. Sherlock could see the pain in John's deep blue eyes even from 70 feet up, on the roof of the hospital.

"Do what?" John didn't sound assured of himself this time. That alone ruined Sherlock's seemingly calm and apathetic composure.

"This phone call…It's my note. It's what people do, don't they?"

"Leave a note when?"

"Goodbye, John." Sherlock tossed the phone aside, raised his arms out in a biblical fashion, then glanced down at the man in the bow tie and brown tweed coat below him. He and the big blue police box were hidden out of John's sight by a laundry truck.

Sherlock let his body lean towards the edge and fell. As he hurdled towards the pavement, he saw a few of the individuals of his homeless network that were assisting in him in this theatrical act. Then he heard John.

"SHERLOCK!"

As soon as Sherlock was within ten feet of the pavement, an anti-gravity beam came from the police box to slow his descent and lower him onto the pavement without becoming part of it. He went towards the box as a man in a long tan trench coat with windswept hair and another in an old bomber jacket came out of the police box pulling a lanky corpse to lay where Sherlock should have been. The man in the tweed coat splattered a few packets of blood on and around the body, to make the surroundings match the injuries that the corpse had, then went back into the box with the other two. Molly came from seemingly nowhere and ran into the TARDIS. Sherlock was the last to enter and quickly glanced back in John's direction, his steely blue eyes having broken his apathetic composure, then closed the door.

By the time John had been starting to get up after being knocked over by one of Sherlock's network on a bike,, the big blue box was gone and the corpse was starting to attract attention by others. The few hospital employees that were assigned to do this by none other than Molly Hooper were starting to come and get the corpse. John made it over to the body and immediately went for the wrist to take its pulse.

There was no pulse, and the corpse felt eerily cold and clammy. John knew immediately something was wrong...if Sherlock had just died, why would he feel like he's been in a morgue for a few days?

"Welcome to the TARDIS!" said the Doctor in the old bomber jacket, directing the greeting more towards Molly than Sherlock. There was already a sense of tension between the detective and the Time Lord. This Doctor was the youngest of the trio, as Sherlock knew, but he looked the oldest as well- he appeared to be in his late 40s while the rest of the group looked to be anywhere from their late 20s to mid 30s.

"Wow, it's bi-" Molly started to say excitedly as she looked around.

"yes, it's bigger on the inside, I know!" the Doctor in the tweed coat said irritably as he and the other two Doctors worked around the console, flipping random switches and levers and buttons. "Well I must say, this is much easier with two others who know what they're doing. She's having no issues locking onto Bag End

Sherlock, Molly, and the three Doctors were standing around the console of the TARDIS. He was attempting to deduce how they were all in the same TARDIS at the same time but somehow couldn't figure it out. How was he supposed to know about Time Lords if he didn't even know the solar system?

"I planned it after you contacted me, just sent out notes to my past incarnations to meet me in the same place at the same time. You can call me Eleven." said the Doctor in the tweed coat.

"And you can call me Nine." said the tall Doctor in the leather bomber jacket; he had a heavy Northern accent.

"I'm Ten!" said the Doctor with the windswept hair; he had taken off the trench coat and was now wearing a brown pinstripe suit and Converse.

Molly moved closer to Sherlock and looked at him like an excited child on Christmas morning. She then looked at the intricate dashboard and pointed to a large red button.

"What's this one do?" she said curiously.

All three Doctors were suddenly upon her and yelling various "no don't touch that!" and other warnings.

"It's just the parking brake, it won't do any harm." Sherlock said in a bored, monotonous tone.

Nine glared at Sherlock, then grabbed Molly's shoulders gently and moved her away from the console.

"Maybe it's best if you stay back, we don't want any accidents happening, eh?" he said in a forced friendly tone.

"Fine," Molly sighed. She went over to stand too close to Sherlock, invading his personal space.

"Where exactly are we off to?" She said, noting the harsh grinding sound coming from the TARDIS. "And what's that dreadful sound?"

"Parking break is still on." Sherlock muttered under his breath. Nine glared at him again.

"Didn't I already mention that? No? Well then. We're off to the Shire!" said Eleven excitedly.

"But isn't that just a children's story?" Molly sounded vaguely interested in this.

"Haven't you figured that out yet, miss Hooper? Most stories are true. Let's just say Tolkien was a companion like you at one point in his life." said Eleven. Ten winked at Molly.

A soft boom sounded as the grinding of the parking breaks ended. Nine grinned a bit and Eleven went straight for the TARDIS door.

"Welcome to The Shire of Middle-Earth!" he exclaimed as he opened the door and revealed a lush green countryside.