captain-crieff:lostwithoutmydoctor:captain-crieff:lostwithoutmydoctor:reapersun:captain jack why are

captain-crieff:lostwithoutmydoctor:captain-crieff:lostwithoutmydoctor:reapersun:captain jack why are you the bestI really, really, really need a fanfic like this now.i need fanfic like, yesterday.hi have a drabble because I was bored. I should also mention I’ve seen exactly one episode of Torchwood so Jack might not be very…Jack-ish.“Doctor!”John turned. Years of reacting to that title had him moving before he’d even consciously thought of it, but it was Sherlock who tensed up in surprise besides him. The street they were on wasn’t crowded, in fact it was all but deserted, not very many people out and about in Cardiff on a cold night, and so it didn’t take John but a moment to spot the man in the long coat making his way over to them, a shine in his eyes and a large grin breaking across his handsome face. He didn’t look familiar, but it was a possibility they’d met before and he’d forgotten. John opened his mouth, about to reply, when Sherlock beat him to it,“Jack.” His voice was tense and, when John turned his head to look, so was his body. He almost seemed nervous. But why should this man unnerve Sherlock? John’s eyebrows pulled down with a frown.“I’ve been looking for you for ages, Doctor! Again!” The man, Jack, said as he made his way up to them, all but bouncing on his heels. Now John was well and truly confused. He was the medical professional here, and yet Jack was clearly staring straight at Sherlock as he spoke - in fact, his eyes didn’t stray from Sherlock’s at all, he’d only glanced at John in a quick little assessing way that left him feeling as if he’d just been checked out. “Yes.” Sherlock said, and it wasn’t just John’s imagination, he really was nervous, you could hear it in his voice if you knew the man well enough, and if there was one thing John prided himself on, it was his ability to read Sherlock when few others could. “I’m aware of that.”“So where have you been? What are you doing here in Cardiff?” Finally he acknowledged John, looking away from Sherlock so that he could give him another once-over, this time much longer. John got the odd feeling that he was being mentally undressed, and he shoved his hands down in to his pockets, drawing his coat tighter around him. What a weird bloke. “And who’s this, then? Your new companion?”New companion? Was John not the first person to be dragged around crime scenes, then? He’d gotten the impression that he was, from Sally, Anderson, Lestrade, hell, even Sherlock himself. “A case,” He heard Sherlock reply, and Jack’s eyes lit up once more at that. “There’s been a murder and a house ransacked, but the circumstances were abnormal and the police can not explain it. Nothing was stolen.” John noticed that he didn’t answer the question of where he’d been, or of who John was. “Oh! That, don’t worry about that, I’ve already taken care of it.” Jack beamed a smile, and for a moment John was left blinking, because the other man really was very, very attractive. But he shook himself out of it, because that wasn’t the important thing he should be focusing on.“Sorry,” He said, finally inserting himself in to this confusing conversation. “You said you’ve taken care of it? How?”Jack turned to now transfer all of his attention to John, his eyes narrowed, suddenly more closed down, suddenly seeming dangerous, and that was odd because moments before he was light and open and seemed harmless as a fly. His eyes were assessing in another way not.“You don’t know? He doesn’t know,” This second bit was directed at Sherlock, who was really visibly nervous now, and not only to John’s eyes. His hands were clenched in his gloves and his shoulders seemed hunched. “‘You’ve not told him anything, and yet you’re taking him along on a case? I know that’s what you do, but usually they’re aware of what’s going on.”“Hold on a moment,” John protested, because the man’s words were causing Sherlock’s shoulders to hunch even more, and this overt display of emotion was not like him. “What in the hell are you talking about? Tell me what?”Jack opened his mouth to reply, but Sherlock cut him off much like he’d cut off John earlier. “Nothing, John. Nothing important, anyway.”“Bullshit!” Jack exclaimed. “You can’t just drag people to cases like this without telling them anything. It’s dangerous. A Weevil broke in looking for food, we’ve taken care of it like I said, but you can’t bring around an unprepared human, Doctor. You should know that. What’s happened to you?” He sounded upset, but John was more focused on the unfamiliar name of ‘Weevil’ and being called a human as if everyone here was not. Jack noticed his rapidly climbing confusion and addressed him directly, “I don’t know what’s going on, but this man,” here he paused to point at Sherlock, who was as tense as John had ever seen him, “is a Time Lord. An alien. He should have explained that to you before you came to deal with other aliens.”John stared. And stared. And then turned to stare at Sherlock some. But Sherlock did not deny the statement, nor did he begin claiming that the other man was a raving lunatic.John took to staring more before he opened his mouth to say the only thing that came to mind. “What the bloody buggering fuck.”SO GOOD ALEY! -- source link

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