Thanks to Roger for his Photo Prompt this week on Friday Fictioneers.
More contributions for Friday Fictioneers can be read HERE.
Twisted Dialogue Means War
At last Watson we found her.
You’re right. The Time Lord is merely an entity. Follow me.
I trailed Sherlock as he barged aside pedestrians and headed towards the synagogue.
Look how the building is askew. The force is warping our very existence.
The Doctor must save humanity from war.
I was famished, and the aroma of fresh bagels and pastrami activated my salivation. I bought one, spread with fancy ketchup.
In the synagogue, Sherlock hammered on the Tardis’s door.
A voice called; I cannot control the darkness in the minds of stubborn men.
The Time Machine faded away.