This is the real scoop. I swear.
"Goodbye, John." Balanced on the parapet, toes jutted over the abyss, Sherlock tossed the mobile away and contemplated the street far below. John was positioned perfectly, but it had to happen now or the fool would run forward and ruin everything. Sherlock took a deep breath, stretched his arms in a great embrace, and-
Off!
Down he plunged! Arms flapping, legs kicking; his mouth opened in a soundless scream- The ground raced relentlessly closer- Closer!
Above him, unseen by all, a space ship of the far distant future, and, strangely, of half a century ago, appeared. As Sherlock plummeted behind the ambulance station, he vanished in a beam of sparkling blue light.
In the Enterprise transporter room, an eager Kirk (the original Kirk: Kirk Prime, back in his boyish prime) and an impassive Spock (Spock Prime, likewise prime) watched as Sherlock materialized on the pad, face down.
"We have him, sir," reported Spock.
"Good. Good!" Kirk leaped forward and knelt to peer at the stunned Sherlock.
Spock regarded the two with a raised eyebrow. "Sir, may I inquire our purpose in rescuing this man? It is a violation of the prime directive."
"Yes, yes. Well, old friend," Kirk gave Spock his best lopsided grin. "Sometimes you have to, well, to step out of the box; embrace the whole picture."
"Sir?"
"This man, Spock." Kirk gazed adoringly at Sherlock, now staring with quiet alarm, "This man! This very man! He holds- the key! This man will cause unbelievable chaos! Devastation! Horror! But we need him, Spock." Kirk's voice dropped to a quavering half-whisper. "The Federation has become complacent. Complacent!" Lifting imploring, trembling fingers, "Our failings will destroy us! This man-" Kirk returned his reverent gaze to Sherlock "-He will expose our weaknesses! Force us- to mend our flaws! The very- destructiveness of this man will catapult us into a new era! A glorious new destiny!"
"Sir, this is a fictional detective from Earth's nineteenth century, recreated in the twenty-first. What impact could he have on events centuries in the future?"
"Alternate future," snapped Kirk, his elation hardening into a steely glare. He stood. "There is a black hole that sends a ship back in time-"
"Sir? A black hole would tear a ship apart. It is illogical to suggest-"
"Just put the man on the ground and button your lip, or you'll be spending the night in the brig." Kirk stormed out, the door sliding shut behind him with an angry schnick.
Spock complied, of course. Activated the transporter; sent the now stirring Sherlock away in a glittering wave. However, in an unusual fit of pique, Spock set the coordinates for a position not safely on the ground, but six feet above it. When Sherlock materialized, he slammed into the pavement with a rather painful smack!
"Ow! Bloody hell!"
As John wept and grasped at his arm, Sherlock silently raged, "Who? Who! Those bastards! They will rue the day- You think you are safe-!"