The darkness was absolute. There was no moon in the sky, not a streetlight nor an airplane to pierce the pitch-black night. A single star shone through the clouds as the man dashed through the empty field, as if the devil himself was at his heels. And, perhaps, he was.
Finally, an artificial light blinked through the trees, like that of a single bulb, or a flashlight. The man, incredibly, put on a burst of speed, running even faster than he had before, to reach the blue box sitting in the exact centre of the woods. When the man at last reached the box, he snapped his fingers, and the doors flew open, the smell of Earl Grey tea emanating from the toasty warm interior into the frosty woods. He slammed the door just in time. The tall man pulled his knit jumper tighter around him, pulling off his snow-spotted scarf. "Mrs. Hudson!" he shouted. "Have you made my tea yet?"
"I'm not your housekeeper, Sherlock," a mechanical voice answered from inside the centre console. Soon after, however, a steaming cup of black tea and two sugar cubes popped out from a slot just at eye level. Sherlock reached up to grab it, draining it without even adding the sugar. He threw both cubes in his mouth and sucked on them. "What in the Medusa Cascade was THAT?" said a slightly muffled voice from the direction of the library.
"Just a hellhound, nothing we haven't seen before," Sherlock yelled back.
"It might be nothing to you, but here I am, handcuffed to an armchair, and you could be dead. AGAIN."
"Yes, John, I know. But dying is boring."
"Sherlo- forget this. Could you just bloody uncuff me?"
"Here, catch." Sherlock threw his sonic screwdriver down the trapdoor to the library. Amazingly, John caught it.
As John climbed up the ladder to the control room, rubbing his sore wrist, a metal arm coming from the centre of the TARDIS handed him a mug of green tea.
"Thanks, Mrs. Hudson," said John.
"Just this once, dear," she replied lovingly.