This fic is based on the hilarious gif by riverthestral on tumblr.

As usual, it began as a tiny idea, and ran away with itself… all pop culture/meme references are entirely on purpose. Enjoy!

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'Well, that was utterly bizarre,' John remarked, after pushing the ornate gilded door to behind him. 'And they haven't even offered to show us out. How polite.'

'That's just Mycroft's style,' Sherlock replied, continuing to shuffle forward down the hallway, bare feet sinking in to the plush carpet. 'He likes to feel like he's in charge.'

John gave a slightly manic laugh. 'We're in the Houses of Parliament. And you're naked apart from a sheet.'

'Point being?'

Shaking his head slightly, John didn't even bother to reply. 'Are we going to have to get the tube back to Baker Street with you like this, or are you going to let me buy you some trousers?'

'I'm wearing my sheet.'

'That's it. I'm getting a taxi.'

A faint breeze suddenly picked up in the corridor, coupled with a distant groaning noise.

'Where's that coming from?'

Sherlock did not reply, and remained directly where he stood; sheet billowing out behind him in the mysterious wind. The wheezing and groaning noise grew to a cacophonous level.

Directly in front of them, obscuring the view of a large paining of a long dead Prime Minister, a blue 1950s police telephone box materialised out of thin air.

John gaped.

With a creak, a door in the box opened. Out hopped a young man wearing braces and a bow tie.

'Here we are,' he grinned, seeming to be talking to the inside of the box behind him, 'The Houses of Parliament. Right in the middle of the Great Stink of 1858, I might add, so you two might want to bring those clothes pegs.'

'I'm not coming out if the drains are all funny,' yelled a woman from inside the box. 'You promised we could visit the hanging gardens of Babylon today.' Her voice sounded curiously faint, as though she was far away – which was impossible of course.

'Amy, let's just humour him for once,' came a muffled man's voice.

'Not on your nelly,' the woman hissed. 'I'm not budging, and neither are you.' She raised her voice. 'I'm not coming, and neither is Rory.'

'Aw, Pond, it'll be fun, honest,' the Doctor called back. He proceeded to sniff the air, and frowned. 'Funny. I can't smell anything.'

'Er, excuse me,' John cleared his throat, 'who on earth are you, and how in god's name did you just appear like that?'

The man spun around, and his face broke out into another smile. 'Hello! Didn't notice you there. I'm the Doctor, and this is my ship, the TARDIS.' His face inexplicably fell as he took in John's clothes. 'Jeans and a leather jacket. I suppose it's not 1858 after all.' He turned his neck round and yelled behind him, 'Get a move on, you two. There's no stink!'

'Fine, we're coming,' came the woman's voice again. 'Keep your hair on, Doctor.'

'Right,' said John, raising his eyebrows. 'Would you mind explaining what on earth is going on?'

The Doctor ignored John's question as his eyes suddenly alighted on Sherlock. 'Sherly!'

Sherly?

'Fancy seeing you here, this is a brilliant surprise.' The Doctor enveloped Sherlock in a hug, which John was amazed to see him return, as much as he could, at least, without letting go of his sheet. 'Good to see you too, Doctor,' Sherlock said. 'I was wondering when you'd turn up.'

'You know him?' spluttered John.

'Of course,' said Sherlock.

'What?' said John.

'And you must be John Watson, retired army medic, partner in crime, and general restraining influence, etcetera etcetera,' beamed the Doctor, and leapt forward, shaking John's arm so vigorously he felt his teeth rattle. 'Sherlock's told me all about you – you make quite the team. Bit like me and the Ponds I suppose.'

Suddenly, a young, red headed woman and a slightly wary looking young man appeared at the door of the box. This must be the Amy and Rory that John had heard arguing.

How on earth had all three of them fitted inside the phone box?

'Doctor, what's going on?' asked the girl, long red hair spilling out of a ponytail. 'Why is he dressed in a sheet?'

'Amy, Rory, this is my great friend, Sherlock Holmes, and his partner Dr Watson,' the Doctor announced with all the enthusiasm of a child at Christmas. 'Holmes, Watson, Pond and Pond. Pond and Pond – Holmes and Watson.'

'Actually my name is Williams,' said Rory.

'Actually, we're not "partners",' John began, 'Definitely not "partners" –'

'I thought they were characters from a book,' interrupted Amy, addressing the Doctor. 'Sherlock Holmes doesn't exist. He's made up.'

The Doctor looked honestly surprised. 'No, he's not.'

'No, I'm not,' said Sherlock.

'What he said,' said the Doctor.

'You're lying,' said Rory.

'I'm not,' said the Doctor.

'You've got to be kidding me,' breathed Amy.

'When do I ever lie?'

'You lie all the time,' spluttered Rory.

'Do not.'

'Do too. What about that one time when you promised we were in Thorpe Park and then we got arrested by Klingons - '

'Everybody, just shut up!' John suddenly yelled.

Everybody shut up.

John turned to his friend. 'Sherlock, explain. Now. And don't look at me like that. And no ridiculous indecipherable answers either.'

Sherlock frowned at him. 'I've told you all about the Doctor, John.'

'Well then, reiterate.'

'He's a time travelling 900 year old alien. We've been through this many times.'

'Yes, but,' John was feeling ever so slightly hysterical; 'Those were stories. As in, not real.'

'I'm real,' said the Doctor, sounding slightly offended. 'Well, as real as any of us, at least. Arguably, none of us are real at all – we could just be figments of each others' imaginations. Now isn't that a fascinating theory? There's a race of robots on Kaled 14 that have been especially programmed to spend their entire lives believing that they don't actually exist. It's a safety protocol to stop them from becoming self-aware and forming a rebe - '

'Hang on, hang on,' John took a deep breath. 'Do you mean to tell me, Sherlock, that all the times you told me about Daleks and tin dogs and space travel and what-not you weren't actually lying?'

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. 'What made you think I was lying?'

'What made you think he was lying?' the Doctor frowned.

'Fine,' said John. 'Fine. Great. That's okay.' He could feel a migraine coming on. 'You just keep on talking to… to the Doctor. I think I need to go and lie down.'

'Come sit down in the TARDIS for a while,' said Amy, running forward to take John by the arm. 'There's loads of room.'

'What?' John's head was spinning. 'It's a police box.'

'Yeah, that's what they all say,' Amy grinned, leading John forward.

'Amy, are you sure this is a good idea?' Rory asked with an air of resignation.

'Shush. It'll be fine,' Amy said.

'Why don't you all come then?' said the Doctor. 'We could go on an adventure. I know I owe you one, Sherly, after you and the Winchester brothers got me out of that tight spot with the monster made of jam.' He stopped and ran a hand through his hair. 'You're not on a case are you?'

'No cases to speak of,' said Sherlock.

'So you really are just here to admire the furnishings. Did you climb in through the sewers again?'

Sherlock snorted. 'Mycroft.'

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. 'Ah. I see.'

He and the Doctor exchanged meaningful glances.

'And that means…?' Rory asked.

'I told him,' Sherlock told the Doctor, 'to get stuffed.'

'Good for you, Sherly,' the Doctor clapped him on the back. 'You're free then?' he asked hopefully.

'Well,' Sherlock shifted in his sheet, 'technically I have five different experiments involving a wired lemon and a live hamster on a crucial time counter under the kitchen sink and if I don't return to them in exactly three hours and forty two minutes they will cause an explosion which will destroy our entire flat and possibly half the buildings on the street if the lemon comes in contact with the concentrated nitro-glycerine…'

'Is someone going to explain what's happening here?' asked Rory. 'Are you actually the real Sherlock Holmes?'

'Brilliant, Sherly,' the Doctor clapped his hands together in glee. 'Now that that's all sorted, let's all go and have some fun, shall we?'

Rory raised his arms in a gesture of disbelief. 'Is that what it is then? The "Let's all ignore Rory" day?'

Everyone ignored him. He shook his head. 'Fine. I give up.'

The Doctor bounded up behind John, whom Amy was pushing through the door of the TARDIS.

'I'm not sure you realise that this is just a box,' John protested.

'Oh, I do,' Amy assured him, 'It's just, well, a special sort of box. You'll see.'

John was positive he was going utterly loopy so he decided he may as well comply. With a sigh, he stepped over the threshold of the blue wooden box, and on to….

…a metal grill?

John's eyes popped. 'In the name of…'

'Good, isn't it,' said Amy, looking slightly smug.

A vast room opened up before them. Mottled arches swept up from the floor to the centre of the ceiling where a vast glass cylinder was suspended on top of a central panel, looking for the entire world like a bio-technical stalactite.

A living, breathing, stalactite. The entire room pulsed with a warm glow, and John swore he could almost hear the machine thinking.

'This is incredible,' John turned slowly in a circle, neck craned to see round the ceiling of the room, 'Absolutely incredible.'

Amy leaned back against a railing. 'Trust me,' she said, raising her eyebrows, 'You get used to it.'

'No, you don't,' Rory muttered, clattering up the ramp to stand beside her. 'Ow!'

'Sorry,' said Amy, who had poked him in the ribs.

'Right then, everyone,' the Doctor leapt up the ramp, and spun on one foot, arms in the air. 'Where shall we go first? Glaxo Smith the Kleiner? The inverted hemisphere of Leantaka? The Second Falls of the Horsehead Nebula? I've heard they sell some amazing sheep there, and of course they're famous for their woolly jumpers. Don't know why they didn't rename it the Woollysheep Nebula to be honest.'

'221B,' said Sherlock, shuffling in through the TARDIS door, 'Baker Street, London.'

'Brilliant choice,' the Doctor leapt forward and yanked a lever on what John realised must be a control panel. Then he bashed a few keys on what looked suspiciously like a typewriter, whipped out a mallet, and cracked the entire console over its metaphorical head. John winced. Then there was a rushing noise and the glass cylinder lit up with a pale blue light.

John leant his ear against the wall. 'Do you realise this is throbbing like an actual heart beat?' he announced to no-one in particular.

Amy and Rory exchanged smiles.

'221B…Baker Street it is.' The Doctor paused, and turned to fix Sherlock with a confused look. 'Isn't that where you live?'

'Evidently,' replied Sherlock.

'But why do you want to go there?'

'Possibly to fetch some trousers?' suggested Rory.

'Trousers, who needs trousers,' the Doctor flung up his hands, 'Where's your sense of adventure, Sherly?'

'I told you, I need to attend to my lemon. The hamster also needs feeding on a regular schedule.'

'But you could go anywhere, anywhere in time and space!' the Doctor protested. 'The universe is endless. Boundless. Pick somewhere, anywhere. Anywhere you like, and we'll go there.'

'Baker Street.'

'Anywhere, Sherlock, anywhere!' The Doctor seemed to be struggling to understand Sherlock's utter disinterest, and gestured wildly with the mallet. 'Haven't you ever wanted to see the stars… explore the solar system?'

'No, not particularly.'

'That's because he doesn't actually know what the solar system is,' John pointed out.

There was a rubbery sounding clang as the mallet hit the grille. '…What?' said the Doctor.

Sherlock shifted awkwardly.

'He doesn't know about the earth going round the sun, either,' John added helpfully.

Sherlock glared at him.

'Okay,' said Rory, 'Now that is weird. I thought Sherlock Holmes was supposed to be clever?'

'I am clever, you fool,' Sherlock snarled, 'I simply don't have the room in my head or the time to waste to sort through unnecessary information. The solar system is irrelevant; therefore, I discarded it once I'd learnt it. Your pathetic brains absorb countless pointless facts every day, and spew them out your ears because they won't help you in your silly little lives-'

'Alright, alright,' Rory said, frowning, 'No need to get offensive.'

'I know,' Amy kicked out with her legs, and pushed off the railing. 'We should do the round galaxy trip. Right, Doctor?'

The Doctor looked at her blankly.

'Since Sherlock doesn't know anything about space, we should give him the proper tour.' She looked at the others expectantly. 'Come on, guys, it'll be fun. There was a sign advertising 'Around the Milky Way in Two Days' on Delta Centauri , wasn't there Rory?'

'Yes… but…'

'No buts,' said Amy, 'You chose where we went yesterday. It's my turn.'

The Doctor clapped his hands, apparently recovered from his shock. 'Brilliant idea, Amy. Sherly, this is just the thing for you.'

'I refuse to go on this tour unless it incorporates Baker Street.'

'Wait, you said this tour was two days long?' John asked. 'Tomorrow is Monday, I have to be at work at eight.'

'Don't worry, you will be.' The Doctor gave grin so wide John thought his head was going to split apart. 'That's the beauty of time travel, eh? You and Sherly take a seat, and strap yourselves in for the Tour à la Pond. Actually, you can't, as we don't have seatbelts. That would be boring. '

John couldn't help grinning back. This day was clearly about to get even more insane.

Amy strode past the Doctor towards the console. 'The tour was my idea, and I've been flying around in this machine for god knows how long, so bagsy it's my turn to run it.'

'Now just hang on a minute, Pond,' the Doctor began, 'That's my Sexy you've got there.'

'Don't worry, she'll be fine with me,' Amy twisted a clear sparkling ball in the console, and cranked a wrench. 'I know what I'm doing.' She paused. 'Sherlock, where are you going?'

'I'm going to feed my hamster,' said Sherlock.

'No, you're not!' Amy smacked down on a huge red button. 'Hang on everybody!'

With a hideous, heaving groan the lit central cylinder began to move up and down, and the entire control room began to pitch and roll like a ship at sea. Sherlock immediately fell backwards, and Rory grabbed hold of the end of his sheet in an attempt to steady him - hastily letting go as it began to unravel. John had flung his arms round one of the pillars just in time, and was clinging on for dear life. The Doctor let go of the console to give him a thumbs up, and almost overbalanced.

The TARDIS lurched again; Amy gave a hoot of laughter and fell forwards, hitting the control panel. The lighting immediately dimmed to flashing red, and an ear splitting klaxon began to wail.

'Pond!' the Doctor roared, 'What on earth did you just do?'

'Oops,' said Amy, not even looking remotely sheepish. 'Sorry.'

Great, thought John. This morning, he'd been basically kidnapped to the Houses of Parliament by a load of government agents. Now he was in a space ship to god knows where, with a manic alien who wasn't supposed to exist. And through all this Sherlock was still starkers as a new born baby in a bed sheet. He just really hoped that the toga look was fashionable on whatever planet they were about to end up.

If this had happened to him two years ago, he would have had a nervous breakdown.

And yet now, John thought ruefully, this feels like just another normal day.

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I had an awful lot of fun writing this, so please review and tell me what you think. :D