The BeginningJohn was eating quietly, the telly was on, but he didn’t seem to hear it. He was eating dinner very late today; it was almost 10:00 p.m. He gulped down another morsel, and stared at the empty chair beside him. Everyday since the last one year, he had saved a seat for Sherlock. It wasn’t possible he died. He was alive, John could feel it. He knew one day he would hear his voice at the door. He knew Sherlock would come back. Sherlock had to.More Like This
John’s thoughts were interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. He wondered who it was, nobody except Mycroft and Lestrade visited him. It was late; it couldn’t be Lestrade. He cried “The door is open Mycroft!” There was no reply. Another knock. John muttered something under his breath and got up to open the door. All of a sudden a blue Police box materialized into the room. John literally fell back into the chair.
The doctor was talking to Amy. “Amy! There is something wrong with the T.A.R.DI.S, it’s