“We’ll be over” Sherlock said ending his phone conversation with Lestrade
“Where are we going?” I asked putting on my coat, but he was already down the stairs. I walked outside and Sherlock was hailing a cab.
“Where are we going?” I asked again, climbing into the taxi.
“33rd Murray Street, murder slashes all across the body” He responded gazing out the window.  We remained silent for a few moments until I caught an unusual sight out of the corner of my eye.
“Sherlock did you see that?” I asked.
“See what, John?” he replied, not even turning his head.
“There was a blue police box on that corner” I responded, surprised he hadn’t noticed.
“Impossible,” Sherlock said turning towards me,” There are no more of those in London, you must’ve been mistaken.”
“No, I wasn’t,” I persisted, “I got shot in the shoulder, not the eye, I know what I saw.” At that moment the cab came to a stop outside a set of flats.
“Sherlock I’m serious” I told him.
“Never mind that,” he replied stepping out of the car, “There’s a murder to solve.” I followed him out and we walked together down the sidewalk towards the crime scene.
As we turned the corner I heard a grunt and looked down to see two people lying on the ground. Sherlock and a man I didn’t recognize. He had a mop of thick, dark hair and was wearing a red bowtie.
“Sorry about that” he said standing up and fixing his brown tweed coat. Sherlock merely continued on his way, earning himself a dirty look from the stranger.
“Sorry about him” I muttered and took off after Sherlock.
“Sherlock!” I cried, “You can’t do things like that.”
“Like what?” he asked, lifting up the yellow police tape.
“Go running into people and not apologizing” I replied rolling my eyes.  Sherlock just scoffed.
  “He didn’t deserve it” He said entering the building.
“What do you mean?” I asked exasperated, but I didn’t get an answer because we had entered the room with the body.
It was a disturbing sight. A young woman lay covered in her own blood on the floor. It was impossible to tell the exact origin of the blood because she was covered with deep slashes.  I bent down to take a closer look.
“Obvious cause of death is bleeding out, about 20” I said looking over the body. I stepped aside to let Sherlock observe it, but he was busy starting at the wall.
“The murderer tried to clean up his act. He got blood on the wall and tried to paint over it, the paints still wet. The bathroom door has bloody fingerprints on the outside but not the inside, and he tried to wipe up his footprints with what looks like baby wipes but it didn’t work so he gave up. His gait shows he’s about 6’ tall,” Sherlock went on,” so six feet, long hair…”
“Wait a second,” Lestrade said walking in, “How could you have possibly known he has long hair?”
“He got blood in his hair, tried to shake it off, but it just splattered on the wall,” Sherlock said like it was simple addition. He pointed to the woman’s neck, “And she didn’t die from bleeding out, she died from one simple cut to the throat and the rest were added after.”
“Why?” I asked in confusion. Sherlock turned to me with a smirk on his face.
“We’ll just have to find him again and ask him ourselves won’t we?” he said almost smiling. My mind went back to the strange man he had ran into earlier.
“It was him?” I asked surprised.
“Obviously,” Sherlock said rolling his eyes. He motioned towards the door, “Come along John, we have a murderer to catch.”
“You should leave that to the pol-“ Lestrade started, but we were already out of the room. I heard him sigh as we descended down the stairs.
“You knew it was him when you ran into him on the sidewalk, didn’t you?” I questioned Sherlock as we hurried down the sidewalk.
“Duh,” He responded like a small child, “he came from the crime scene, he had traces of blood on his hands and hair and the look on his face just read ‘I just killed someone’.” I rolled my eyes.
“He had that look on his face because you had just knocked him to the ground.” Sherlock had a trace of a smile on his face.
“That too. Now where did you see that blue police box?”
“Why does it matter?” I asked, “You said I was seeing things.”
“Well obviously you weren’t,” he responded,” There was blue paint chips on the man’s coat and on the floor of the house, so he’s obviously been hanging around something that’s blue, strange man, he’ll be hanging around an object that’s strange what strange thing  did you see that’s painted blue? A police box.” I just sighed and looked around.
“About two blocks from here” I said looking around.
“Good,” Sherlock exclaimed, “and look, we can follow him back.” He pointed several yards ahead of us and sure enough, there he was. The man with the red bowtie. The man suddenly looked back and noticed us. He grabbed the dark-haired woman’s hand next to him, whispered in her ear, and they took off running. Before I knew what was happening g I was behind Sherlock racing after them.
As we neared the blue box they started to slow down, but we didn’t. They were just a step or two away when we caught up to them.  Sherlock grabbed the man’s shoulder and pinned him against the door to the police box.
“Why did you do it”” Sherlock demanded. The girl tried to stop him but I held her back.  The man with the bowtie scoffed.
“I didn’t do it, I was trying to figure out what monster did” he responded. Sherlock looked stricken.
“You’re not lying, I can tell,” He breathed,” How…”
“You were wrong,” the girl said smirking, “it’s as simple as that.” The man looked at Sherlock quzzingly.
“But you’re never wrong, all the evidence leads to me,” he said, “Who, or what, are you?” Sherlock looked at him with a smile playing on his lips.
“I’m the world’s only consulting detective,” he responded, “and you are?”
“Why,” the man said with a grin and a new spark in his eyes, “I’m The Doctor.”