If you're wondering how the flip a text message can rip a hole in the universe, I had no idea at first. But now, it has all been explained, so feel free to read on.
It was an average rainy day, and I was reading a good book that a friend of mine had lent me when my phone buzzed. Pulling it out of my pocket, I read the message on my screen. It read:
Expert, don't ask any questions. I recently got a message from someone claiming to know you, and they gave me the best advice. Don't blink.
SH
Don't blink. That had been some of the best advice that I'd gotten from a relative. But SH? Who was SH?
I replied with:
Who are you?
I'm Sherlock Holmes, and I believe you're not human.
SH
Well, now I knew who he was. But how did he know I wasn't human?
His next response answered my question.
The almost invisible glow on your right hand, which is hidden behind your back, is a clear sign that you are an extraterrestrial lifeform, not to mention that your eyes have an alien feeling surrounding them and how you're slightly moving in a strange way.
SH
How do you know what I look like?
I am twenty feet away from your location.
SH
To see if he was telling the truth, I turned around and spotted someone about twenty feet away looking up at me. He had on a black trench coat and a very, very dark green scarf.
It was right then that I heard the familiar roaring noise of what I'd been waiting for to my right. There it was, the big blue police box fading into view. I tucked my phone back into the pocket of my purple fuzzy jacket and raced toward the TARDIS.
I yanked the doors open, hopped inside, and slammed them shut, panting like I'd run a marathon. Turning around, I knew something had changed since I was last inside.
It was a dark interior, with the walls made out of hexagon-shaped pieces that intersected. In the middle, six orange crab legs made out of crystals stuck out of the ground. At the center of it all was the TARDIS console, with a large crystal sticking out of the middle of it.
"You've redecorated!" I exclaimed. "I love it!"
The TARDIS made some strange noises, and I groaned. "They're not sandshoes! They're Converses!" Apparently, the TARDIS recalled that time that two versions of the Doctor met, and one of them was wearing Converses. The version that didn't wear Converses nicknamed the other "Sandshoes" as a joke. It all got even funnier from there. Trust me, the TARDIS told me the whole story. Now, how a spaceship can tell me a story is that over time, I've been able to tell what the different TARDIS sounds translate to.
There were four people standing in the TARDIS. One of them looked like a 19-year-old boy, wearing a dark blue long sleeve shirt with khaki pants and a puzzled look. Another one looked about his age, but she had a more confused look on her face than he did. The third one was an older man, and he stood in between the other two. The last one, a woman, stood at the console, with blond hair, dark roots, and a smile on her face.
"Which one of you is the Doctor?" I questioned, although I should've known right away which one it was. Being twelve years old and seeing so many of his faces, I could easily tell that the woman at the console was the Doctor. "No way." I mumbled.
"It's about time. Love the hair!" She commented, which was a clear nod to my long, red hair. "What'd you find?"
The boy looked in her direction. "Doctor, who is she?" He asked, gesturing toward me.
"Ryan, this is the Expert. She's a…friend of mine. I promise, I'll explain it all later." She stopped playing around with the console and walked toward me. "So, Expert, what's brought you back here?"
I pulled up my messages and showed her my conversation with the guy claiming to be Sherlock Holmes. Ideas started popping up in my brain. "Possibly a text from a parallel universe? Maybe he jumped from a world where the books are reality to this one where Sherlock Holmes is solely a fictional character?" I questioned.
"I think the second one's right." She said, the grabbed my hand and rushed toward the console.
That was when the doors burst open, and I saw him there. The man wearing the trench coat and super dark green scarf.
"Sherlock! It's been a while, hasn't it?" The Doctor beamed.
I just gawked at her. "You two know each other?"
"Yep, I met him a while ago. I think Sherlock was about your age. Round twelve, I suppose. I even taught him most of the psychology tricks he has up his sleeve."
"No wonder he could tell that I'm half Time Lord." I rubbed my right wrist.
It was then that my right hand started glowing again, as well as my left one. They were pushed farther apart from each other by some unknown force, and before I knew it, my vision turned into the same golden yellow light that my hands were glowing with.
When the light disappeared, I sucked in a large breath as if I hadn't breathed in hours. My veins felt a little funny, like someone had activated a bag of Pop Rocks and inserted them into my bloodstream. The world was like a whirlwind around me, spinning uncontrollably, and I started losing my balance. Within mere milliseconds, the swift rhythm of my one heartbeat hammered in my brain.
Did I know what happened to me? Yes. Was I scared? No. That was the second time I'd regenerated in my life, but my regenerations had been so far apart that I'd forgotten the overwhelming nausea I received afterward. It reawakened all of my extra feelings as being part Time Lord, like feeling the turn of the universe and how my body's still stitching itself together.
About a minute passed, although it felt like centuries. The world spun faster and faster, until everything turned pitch black.
I woke up with my heartbeat pounding in my eardrums. My vision was still spinning, but not as rapidly. My insides, however, still felt like they were made of Pop Rocks.
"Who woke me up?" I cried, and I saw Sherlock crouching next to me.
"So you're the one the Doctor told me about." He said.
I stared into his eyes. "She told you about me?"
"Well, 'she' was a 'he' back then. When the Doctor kept popping up in my life when I was twelve, he did mention at one point in time that he was a parent…"
"That's enough. Right there. Stop right there." I gritted my teeth.
I jumped to my feet, but fell back down when I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. It was as if someone had attached a handgun to a knife and plowed it into that area right before setting off the gun.
As if the physical pain wasn't enough, I knew that Sherlock shouldn't have known the truth. Why, Doctor, why? I thought over and over again. Why did you have to tell someone the truth about who I am?
No one should know.
No one.