I landed the spaceship effortlessly. I was born not just a soldier, but a pilot. And just where had I landed? Earth, of course! The place where Daddy shows up most often. I had landed in London, England, to be precise. He did love visiting there. I surveyed my surroundings. I was on Baker Street. I wondered why I had landed here of all places. A computer expert as well, I had programmed my ship to take me to the place (in London) where I would be most likely to receive aid. What was so special about Baker Street? I figured I would find out soon enough. I noticed a small cafe called "Speedy's". I was feeling a bit peckish, so I thought I might as well go there.

•••

"Hello, love. What do you want?"

"Fish fingers and chips," [author's note: if this was with the Eleventh Doctor, it would be fish fingers and custard] I answered, going for something decidedly British. I sat down at a table and waited for my food to be ready. I saw a tall man come over to my table.

"Do you mind if I sit with you?"

"No, not at all," I answered, unsure of Earth's customs and afraid of offending.

"My name's Mycroft Holmes." He held out his hand. I looked confused, and then a memory of the Doctor's came to mind; he wanted me to shake it. His handshake was firm and his voice confident. "Pleased to meet you, miss..."

"Jenny."

"Pleased to meet you, Jenny. Oh look, our food's here!" He had ordered a sandwich.

•••

We ate for a few minutes before he spoke up again. "So Jenny, what brings you here?" I looked at him in surprise and confusion. "Oh, come on. You've obviously been traveling. Your coat has seen exactly the kind of wearing a traveler's coat has. Your accent is different, which suggests that you're not from here. And you hesitated before shaking my hand, from which I can deduce that you are either germaphobic or unaware of the culture and customs here. I think the latter is the case here. But there are many cultures that do handshakes, and anyone in the UK would be familiar with the custom. You've traveled a long way. So I ask you again: what brings you here?"

"Oh, just traveling, you know. Visiting all the great places."

"You're looking for him, aren't you? Well, you've certainly come to the right place."

"Really?"

"Yes, he lives here! 221B Baker Street."

"Brilliant!" Was my search really to be that quick?

"You'll never find a better consulting detective anywhere. Actually, you'll never find any other consulting detective anywhere, for that matter."

"I don't think we're thinking of the same person."

"You are looking for Sherlock Holmes, are you not?"

"Actually, no. Who is he?"

"Oh dear, you must have come from a long way."

"You don't know the half of it." I smiled. "But you didn't answer me."

"He's a consulting detective. The one and only. He consults with the police and helps them solve crimes."

"Hm. Does he do missing persons?"

"Probably not. It's worth a try though. If he does help you, you'll appreciate it for sure. He's a genius. Not as great as me, of course..." his phone beeped. "Oh, sorry, I've got to go. France and Germany are at it again. Honestly, I take a lunch break and the whole world falls apart. It's ridiculous. Oh, tell Sherlock I said hello, won't you? Goodbye!"

•••

I saw the house 221B. I wondered if Sherlock Holmes really lived there. If he did, he was just the man I needed.