An Eye for an Eye (Doctor Who/Sherlock Crossover)

Watching

This part is so short! I'm sorry. I'll have the next part up soon and it'll be longer, I promise. Hope you like it. :)

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Six Months Later

“Are you sure you only want water?”

The waitress standing by Sebastian’s shoulder clicked her pen, staring at him. This would be the third water he’d ordered, and he was taking up the best table at the restaurant, the one by the window.

“Yes. Do you have a hearing problem?” He didn’t take his gaze from the flat across the street.

“No, I heard you just fine,” the waitress said through her teeth. “But if you don’t order something soon, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I don’t like to eat when I’m working.”

“Working?” The waitress’ eyes swept over the table, seeing nothing but the water she’d given him twenty minutes earlier.

“Waiting for someone,” Seb said into his glass as he drank the last of the water, before shoving it in her general direction. “Now, a refill?”

With a heavy sigh of aggravation, the waitress took the glass, turned on her heel, and stormed off towards the kitchen.

Sebastian turned his gaze back to the flat across from the restaurant: 221B, Baker Street.

It wasn’t the most exciting job he’d ever had – in fact, it was mind numbingly boring – but Jim had kept on stressing how important it was to watch the apartment. “I’m looking for a man, Seb,” he had said. “He’s the key to everything.”

Since Moriarty had “regenerated” and revealed himself as a time lord, he’d spent every waking minute plotting, pacing around the flat, and muttering about things Seb didn’t really understand. Aliens, for starters. That had taken some getting used to, for sure.

But Seb was adaptable. And loyal to Moriarty, so he did what he asked, and sat in a boring restaurant watching a boring flat pretty much every day.

He was waiting for a man – a man who was like Jim, who could change his face. But Jim was fairly positive that for the moment, he would most likely be wearing a bowtie and suspenders, and would have a stupid-looking haircut that was too long for his age and his face.

Moriarty called him the Doctor.

“He has something,” Moriarty had said to Sebastian one day, “something that I need. Find him, and we find it.”

“What’s it?” Seb asked, absently. He didn’t exactly care – if he needed to find it, he’d find it.

“Well. A blue police box. You’ll know it when you see it.”

“You starting to collect antiques, Jim?”

“Something like that,” Moriarty grinned. “If you watch Sherlock’s flat, he’ll come eventually. I know it. And then the fun begins.”

He’d been watching the flat for weeks, now. And in all that time, he’d seen John leave the apartment once. Apparently the army doctor still wasn’t over Sherlock’s suicide. Pitiful.

The waitress came back and slammed the water on the table. It spilled over the top and hit Sebastian’s hand, but she didn’t apologize and was gone before he could say anything. He watched her hurry back to the kitchen, shaking his head.

When he turned around, there was a man walking towards the 221B flat. A tall, skinny man – in, yes, a bow tie and suspenders.

Sebastian flipped open his mobile and hit speed dial, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline. He watched The Doctor trot up the steps and knock on the door.

Moriarty answered within the first ring. “You’ve seen him,” he said immediately.

“He’s at the door.”

“Stay where you are. I’ll be there.”