Chapter 1 : I
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There was only one thing which could be done.
A last resort.
They needed their own Heroes.
Things had changed since Arthur’s death. The Camelot Merlin had once known was long gone and everyone he had held dear were dead. Time had moved on from the time of King Arthur and even now the Warlock could see his dear friend’s death in his mind. It was the only safe haven for him away from the things of the future. The Warlock missed everything about the home he once had in Camelot as the King’s manservant, saving his sorry arse at least once a week.
Merlin would still do anything to bring his old life back, but even his powers couldn’t reach that far. The only thing he could do to keep the memories to heart was to keep him young, exactly the same image he was many years in the past. Sometimes it pained him to look into the mirror and see the young man he once was, but it was the least he could do to bring back the past. Somehow it comforted him, brought his mind peace.
Since Arthur’s death the Warlock had spent a long time grieving and wondering what to do with his life. The King was dead and his destiny to help bring the land of Albion together had been fulfilled. Then one night when he was by himself in the forest he had come to the decision that he was going to protect the people. He had magic running through his veins and he needed to put it to good use or life just wasn’t worth living.
His hand in his pockets to protect them from the cold, the Warlock wandered the abandoned streets of burning London. His eyes traced the cracks on the floor as his short black hair waved gently in the slight wind. There was not a single light in sight and the only thing lighting up his path was the crackling flames. There was not a single damned soul in sight as the remaining population were huddled away in the only save havens they could find. Every other country had fallen and all that was left of the human race besided in London. Merlin had seen the humans develop and thrive and it only seemed fitting that he would be around to witness their own destruction.
A harsh laugh escaped his lips, his own voice sounding scratchy against his throat. His throat was dry and his lips were chapped. Grime was smeared down his face and his eyes were dimmed as they scanned the burning streets on London. They night sky above his head was as black as ink and there was not a single speck, a single hope left for condolence. In his mind the Warlock held the image of Camelot dearly to his heart, but even that was little help for the blackened and destroyed streets.
Pausing for a moment, his hand felt around in his jumper pocket when he found the coin. Slowly pulling it out his blue eyes scanned the edge to find that it had changed. Replacing the coin back into his hoodie pocket, Merlin took one last glance at the burning London before there was a pulling sensation and the city vanished before his eyes.
Coming out the other side the Warlock stumbled a moment before straightening up and scanning the room he was now standing in. It was a simple room, a single table sat in the middle with four chairs surrounding it and all the walls were whitewashed. There was no décor for comfort and even the pot plant had died and now hung limply over the edge of its pot. But in this room Merlin could be honest with himself and the three other people who were already in the room.
Already sitting in one of the chairs was a thin faced, curly haired individual. One leg was crossed over the other as his hands were cupped under his chin and his eyes staring at the opposite wall. Though he looked like a normal man you would pick off the streets, Sherlock Holmes was far from normal. He was a genius, though he didn’t like to put it that way. He could look at you for a few moments and then tell you about your life effortlessly. It took you awhile to fathom how he could possibly know everything about you, but in his own words the little details were the most important.
Sitting on the floor in the darkest corner of the room was a boy only just out of his teens, though he was the most famous person in the wizarding world of this age. He was the boy who lived, the youngest and only person ever to survive the killing curse and he was the boy who defeted Lord Voldemort once and for all. Harry Potter sat huddled up against the wall with his head on his knees and his round glasses half way down his nose. Harry was the only person in the room Merlin could relate to due to the fact they both had magic pulsing through them. Though his magic was restrained to be used through his wand, he was a powerful wizard and the only person Merlin genially trusted.
The final man in the room, however, was the weirdest out of them. He was leaned casually against the wall with his arms folded over his chest and a Stetson on his head. He wore a tweed jacket and a bow tie, but that wasn’t the weirdest thing about him. The weirdest thing about the strange individual was the fact he wasn’t human. Nobody knew his actually name and he went around calling himself The Doctor. He was the madman and though everyone though he was crazy Merlin often found he was the only one who knew what was going on most of the time. In fact, The Doctor could leave anytime he wanted with his time machine, but he was on a mission to save everyone just as Merlin was.
The four individuals in the room scanned each other dully before finally Sherlock spoke up. “You called us,” he stated with a glance as Harry was still huddled up in the corner.
Finally Harry tore his eyes away from the ground before he stiffly rose to his feet. The young man briefly nodded towards Sherlock before he pushed his glasses back up his nose and scanned the room. “It has been two months since out last meeting and things have just gotten worse,” the wizard started grimly. “More people are dying of starvation and thirst than before and everyone is slowly fading away. We need to do something.” The wizard paused and scanned the blank faces of the other three people in the room before his green eyes settled on The Doctor. “Doctor, have you got any good news at all?”
Grimly The Doctor shook his head as he pushed himself away from the wall with his elbows. “The TARDIS can’t seem to pinpoint the exact time when this happened. I cannot travel back in time and so I am stuck here. It’s like we are trapped in a time bubble, being held captive by something. It’s all very complicated, it a more advance bubble I have ever seen before. Whoever caused this is very powerful”
Merlin sighed and the news before the hand still slipped inside his hoodie pocket continued to fumble around with the enchanted coin. He still hated the clothes from the period of time he was in, but it was all there was the wear. His old attire made him feel more at home, but he had lost it all years back. “I can’t sense that this was caused by magic,” the Warlock added hastily. “My powers were becoming weaker and weaker over time. It’s like this time bubble you speak of his draining them.”
“I’m having the same trouble,” Harry added with a fearful glance at Merlin. “So what we can conclude from this is that someone is trapping us and in the process draining out powers.”
There was a hung silence in the room as no one spoke as eyes were darting around from person to person. The four people in the room were still trying to wrap their mind about what trouble they were actually in. The human race was dying and they were powerless against the inevitable. It was only a matter of time before the human race was wiped off the face of the Earth for good.
AN: I OWN NOTHING IN THIS STORY!! Merlin and Dr Who belong to the BBC, Sherlock belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Harry belongs to JK Rowling. I have just used my mind to put these fandoms together
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