"Who are you?" The short man asked authoritatively.
"Well, when I'm here I prefer to go by Sherlock Holmes. But, other people call me John Smith," the taller man shrugged.
"And you live… in a police box," replied the short man slowly.
"No, I travel in a police box," corrected the taller figure, running his long, thin fingers through his curly black hair.
"Yes, right, of course," nodded the shorter man in a rather soldierly manner. "And it's… bigger… on the inside?"
"Precisely. How very observant of you," said Holmes sarcastically.
"H-how?" stuttered the shorter man.
"Come with me and I will show you." The tall man held out his hand and the shorter man took it hesitantly. He was pulled up to the front of a bulky blue box that had been kept in surprisingly good condition. The taller man – Holmes, Smith, whatever his name was – pushed open the door of the box to reveal a spectacularly lit room that was definitely much larger than the outside.
"You're kidding me, right?" The shorter man said, taking a step back. "This can't be real. This is… It's smoke and mirrors is what it is. You're a regular trickster!" He laughed in astonishment. "I've been bamboozled!"
"Step inside," said Holmes simply. Despite his misgivings, the man limped into the room, surprised to discover that it was real. None of it was a magic trick or the foolishness of the eye. It was really there, really real.
"What is this?"
"Well, its proper title is Time And Relative Dimension In Space, but I really just prefer to call her the TARDIS," the taller man shrugged.
"And how, exactly, did you come across this… box?"
"Are you sure you're ready to hear this, John?" The taller man said unsurely.
"I am sure," John nodded shortly.
"I am a Time Lord. I travel through space and time, and you are currently standing in my ship. And, by the way, my name is the Doctor." The taller man – The Doctor?! – pursed his lips.
"You, Sherlock Holmes, John Smith, whatever your name actually is, you are crazy!" John cried, backing in the general direction of the door.
"Now, John Watson, calm down, think rationally," the Doctor said soothingly.
"Rationally? There is no rationally in this situation!" Watson paused thoughtfully for a moment. "I never told you that…" he muttered.
"Never told me what?"
"I never told you my name!"
The Doctor chuckled, pulling a silver pen-looking object from the pocket of his long black coat. "This is my sonic screwdriver," he informed John.
"What's that got to do with anything?"
"Nothing, really," the Doctor laughed. "I just thought you would like to know."
"Well… what does it do?" asked John, taking a curious step forward.
"Lots of things," the Doctor shrugged. "Except it doesn't really work on wood. I've never understood that little glitch…" he muttered.
"Show me," John demanded shakily. The Doctor took up his screwdriver, pointed it at a lock on one of the multiple doors leading to the other parts of the TARDIS, and pressed a button. The screwdriver began whirring like mad and the blue tip of it lit up. Within seconds, the door was unlocked. John was enthralled by the abilities of this man.
"It's a rather useful tool," the Doctor noted, turning the device over and over in his hands.
"What other wonderful tricks have you got up your sleeve?" asked John.
"Oh, a few," the tall man shrugged.
"Show me!" John said excitedly.
"Well," said the Doctor slyly, "here's one that I like to call Time Travel!" He pulled a lever on the console in the center of the box and the entire thing shuddered violently for a few moments. John had to clutch a column to keep himself from toppling over.
"What was that?" John asked once the box had finished lurching.
"Come see," the tall man said mysteriously, wrapping a blue scarf around his neck and heading for the door of the – what was it called again? Oh, yes! – TARDIS. The Doctor paused. "You might want to go look at my costumes and find something warmer…" He directed John to a door off to the side of the room, which led to another equally bright yet significantly tinier room full to the brim with costume pieces. There were shelves of hats and shoes, and racks, boxes, and wardrobes weighed down by thousands of shirts, pants, and full costumes. John had to force his jaw shut. "Well, hurry up, then!" Holmes smiled.
John wandered over to a rather large wardrobe and slowly opened its creaky oak doors. Inside were rows upon rows of thick, fuzzy jackets. John grabbed the warmest looking one, an army green color with faux fur along the hood and the inside of the cuffs.
"Looks warm," the taller man shrugged when John exited the costume room.
"Toasty," John replied.
"Well, shall we go?" asked the Doctor, holding out his hand. Hesitantly, John placed his rough hand in the smooth palm of the other and was quickly whisked out the door.
It was snowing. When they left that little corner on Baker Street, it had been the middle of spring. But now, it was snowing, thick and white and beautiful. John held out his other palm and caught one floating flake, marveling in the magic of the moment in the split second before the tiny sliver of ice melted. He caught another, and another, and Holmes stood by, smiling.
"This is beautiful!" John exclaimed.
"Beautiful, yes…" Holmes nodded. "Beautiful indeed." For a while longer he watched the blond man prance around, catching flakes in his hands, on his tongue and eyelashes. Sherlock's gaze travelled upwards to the snow-strewn sky, and no sooner had his eyes left his new companion than a snowball splattered across his chest. He looked back at John, a mischievous smile playing across the soldier's face.
"Catch me if you can!" John exclaimed, making a mad dash for a small piled of snow that could act as a shield. He tossed another snowball in the Doctor's general direction, missing him entirely. The tall man chuckled and reached down to the snow at his feet, quickly packing snow into a tight snowball and placing it to the side. Within minutes he had created his ammunition, and began throwing snowballs as fast as he could at his playful companion.
To be honest, Sherlock was rather surprised with his terrible aim. Nearly all of his snowballs missed his rather agile friend. Covered in snow and laughing like two madmen, John and Sherlock collapsed in the snow side by side. "Well, that was fun," John chuckled.
"Yes, precisely so," agreed Sherlock.
"So where are we exactly?" John asked, racking his brain for places that were so covered in snow in the middle of spring.
"Oh, we are in London."
"This is not London," John replied, convinced that he would make this curly haired stranger give him the plain truth.
"Well then why is the Eye spinning over there?" Sherlock pointed into the whitish haze, and John, if he squinted, could see the lights on the Ferris Wheel twinkling gaily. Still he refused to believe it.
"This has to be another one of your tricks," he claimed, shaking his head.
"Listen closely and in a few moments you'll hear Big Ben chiming on the hour," Sherlock commanded smugly.
"Oh, all right," John sighed, deciding to comply with the Doctor only once more. He listened with all his might, and within seconds, the familiar chime of the bells rang to mark the hour. John's eyes widened, and he turned them upon Holmes in astonishment.
"We are in London," Sherlock said again, "in a park on the edge of the city."
"But how on earth could it possibly be snowing?!" cried the soldier.
"Well, that's really rather simple," the Doctor shrugged. "As I said, the TARDIS travels through both space and time, meaning, my dear Watson, that we are in a different time. Specifically, we are in the year 1980, since that didn't seem too far away. And, as you can already tell, it is winter."
John was speechless. How does one reply to such an outlandish claim? Well, there was a simple answer to that: they don't. They either choose to believe, or not to believe. And John Watson? Well, after all the ridiculous and extraordinary things he had seen that day… he chose to believe.