I stuck my tongue into the side of my mouth. "So do you always meet people while you're... Not wearing any clothes?"

Irene gave me a sly wink and stepped further into the room, all of her attention on the Doctor. "You're new."

His eyes were cold, surprisingly enough. Perhaps he didn't fancy women. "I've already surprised two people with my old age today, do we really need to add a third to the list?"

She smirked. "You're new enough to me. Might need some... breaking in, so to speak." She turned her sparkling blue eyes to Sherlock. "However, I think Sherlock's first on that waiting list."

Jealousy rang through me like a bell. Certainly if Sherlock had wanted any sort of thing with Irene, he would have gotten it over with by now... But why would he? She had left him, broken him. He tried not to show it, but Irene had torn him up into little pieces, and he remained that way for months after her departure. And now she was back, to rip him up again?

I couldn't let it happen. "Could you put something on?"

The woman looked at me as though she had forgotten I was there at all. "That sounds familiar, John Watson. Have we returned to square one?"

Despite her slight sass, she moved to the wardrobe, slipping on a black robe while the rest of us pretended (unsuccessfully) not to watch. Sherlock twiddled his thumbs, pursing his lips, and I tried to search his face for any sort of interest, arousal, distraction. Nothing. I saw nothing. The man was a geode: unreadable, rough stone on the outside, but incredible, secret beauty filling his entire being.

By the time Irene had turned around, the Doctor had regained his confidence. He snapped his fingers. "Right. So, you live here, you can tell us what's going on, correct?"

Irene slid into one of the cozy chairs in the corner, kicking her feet up onto the side of it. "Oh, I live here, yes. But I don't live here. Not in this weird world."

The timelord frowned. "Then how did you get here?"

We had been so caught up in the conversation that none but one of us had noticed the stranger in the doorway. That specific one of us, with the observation skills to match a team of doctors, was, of course, Sherlock Holmes.

"I would imagine he would have something to do with it," Sherlock said coolly.

Like marionettes controlled by a master puppeteer, we all turned our heads to the doorway in sync. Leaning against the doorframe just as Irene had, was a complete stranger. At least, he was a stranger to Sherlock and I.

He smiled, and it was one of the most charming things I've seen to this day. When this man smiled, his whole body smiled. His broad chest shifted slightly, his eyes lit with confidence, and his posture was straighter than- well, an awful lot straighter than my sexuality was turning out to be.

The man held up his wrist, and on it was a bulky, high-tech device. "It's called a vortex manipulator."

When I looked back to the Doctor, he was beaming more intensely than I could even imagine. "Jack! Brilliant! The old gang- actually, no, a completely new gang, the old gang is gone, gone, gone. But Jack! Wonderful," he leaned on me, treating my shoulder like an armrest, "I love Jack. He's great."

I shook the Doctor off of me and brushed my shoulder. Physical contact isn't usually my high point. "So, you're Jack."

I watched his eyes flick to me, sizing me up, noticing me for the first time. He stepped completely into the room, moving forward to shake my hand. His teeth were immaculate, the brightest white I've ever seen fill anyone's mouth. He was polite, he was attractive, he was...

"The name's Captain Jack Harkness."

...American?

I nodded. "John Watson."

 Jack's eyes floated to the Doctor. "And you are?"

 The Doctor's face fell for a moment, but he quickly picked it back up, as though suddenly remembering something. "Oh now, you haven't seen this face, have you? Brand new! Only a few hundred years old!" He scrunched his face up a bit. "I suppose that isn't too new... But Jack, me!"

The captain still looked confused.

The timelord rolled his eyes. "The Doctor!"

Jack looked truly happy now, not only confident. "Doctor!" He stepped in for a hug, which seemed strange. I didn't take either of them as a hugger. "It's been too long. How have you been?"

With that, they were deep in conversation about faraway planets, ancient aliens, and weird languages that I certainly didn't know anything about. Sherlock looked at me, raising his eyebrows, and we took a few steps away from the group.

I smiled a bit, and spoke quietly. "We're in a room full of lunatics."

He laughed, still remaining pretty quiet. "And I'm one of them."

"Highly functioning sociopath," I corrected, as he had so many times.

This made him laugh harder. "What I don't get," he said between giggles, "is how Irene and this Jack guy ever manage to get anywhere at all."

"What do you mean?"

Sherlock snickered. "Well, there's Irene, and we know all too much about her. And this Jack Harkness... He wears suspenders and a belt..."

I laughed. "He legitimately cannot keep his own pants on."

We were both laughing so hard that neither of us noticed that we were being stared at by the other three in the room.

The Doctor cleared his throat. "You two okay, over there?"

I coughed, still laughing a bit. "Completely. Totally fine."

Sherlock spoke to the Doctor, but looked directly at me, smiling a pretty hot half-grin. "Better than ever."

Irene rolled her eyes. "Get a room."

For the first time ever, I didn't argue that Sherlock and I weren't a couple. He didn't either, and I couldn't help but feel my hurt jump a bit with excitement. Oh, the possibilities with Sherlock Holmes!

The woman stood and walked over to Jack, leaning somewhat flirtatiously on his shoulder. "So Jack, shall we get a move on?"

Jack smiled at Irene. "Only if these guys are coming with us."

She eyed Sherlock like he was a plate of fresh, mouthwatering food. "I suppose I would be alright with that."

Doing my best to remain civil throughout the twangs of jealousy I got around Irene, I remained silent as we followed the others out the door.

We were greeted by another long stretch of hallway. This one, however, was even wider, even longer, and one side of it was made completely of glass, like a massive window instead of a wall. "Baker Street," I whispered to Sherlock. He nodded.

Indeed, out that window was one side of Baker Street- the side we lived on. It was as though we were walking just along the road, but there was a barrier between us and the sidewalk. Every once in a while, someone would pass by us, on a bike or on foot.

I hit Sherlock gently on the arm. "Look," I said, "Mrs. Hudson."

She had just stepped out the front door, thumbing through her purse. She looked slightly worried, but Mrs. Hudson always had something to worry about. She was good in that way; safe.

I tried to wave, but Sherlock caught my arm in midair. "She can't see us."

He hadn't let go of my arm, and I didn't shake him off. "How do you know?"

He looked straight into my eyes, then down at his hand, holding my forearm. He quickly let go, as though realizing that he was still holding on. Regaining his usual confidence in himself, he spoke. "Have you met Mrs. Hudson? She would have come running out to greet us."

I shrugged, and we continued walking, a bit tense and awkward, until we reached the next room at the end of the hall.

This one, like the hallway, was different; anyone could immediately notice that. The other rooms had been open, free to walk in and out of, without difficulty.

This one had a door.

We were all quiet, and the Doctor turned around to look at the rest of us, who had been walking a bit behind him. He raised whatever was left of his eyebrows- had he lost them in a terrible accident? - and tried the door. Locked.

"Use the-" I started.

He grinned at me, already holding the sonic screwdriver in his hand. With a whir and a click, the door was unlocked.

I surveyed the faces around me. The Doctor looked absolutely giddy at the idea of a new adventure. Jack wore the same confident smile (I was beginning to think that this was just his neutral face). Irene looked aroused, which wasn't a surprise to me, and Sherlock-

Sherlock quickly pulled his eyes away from me, where they had been glued, and set them back on the door. Had he been staring...?

The Doctor rolled his shoulders back a bit, cracked his neck, and pushed open the door. He drew in a sharp breath, turning around to the rest of us again. He looked scared now, but was still undoubtedly excited beyond belief. How excited could someone get before dying by heart attack? I shook the question from my mind and adjusted my focus back onto the situation.

"My friends," he said quietly, voice just above that of a whisper, "we are not alone."