The Doctor had just landed his Tardis at the corner of 10th street and Browning Ave, coincidentally right next to the very place where John Watson was walking. John had been minding his own business, just getting groceries after a stop at his favorite book shop. Sherlock didn't know about John's favorite book shop; it was one of the aspects of John's life that Sherlock wasn't involved in. Of course, John couldn't help that it took him longer to get groceries with a stop to Daunt Books. And Sherlock couldn't help wonder why John took 34 minutes to get groceries instead of 22. So naturally, Sherlock had tailed John, as he so often did.

Mycroft looked down at this odd, but not unexpected scenario, through his many eyes of London. A security camera spun and locked onto John Watson, who had stopped to look at an out of place telephone booth. It was blue, and unlike the normal crimson metal ones, it was made completely of wood.

Mycroft glanced bemusedly at Sherlock's scarf, which had caught on the edge of a building and proceeded to strangle Sherlock while Sherlock kept on walking, oblivious. Mycroft reached for his laptop, and with a few simple codes, called the phone box at which John was staring. Even if it was wooden and blue, it should still be in the network.

The Doctor went to go get his coat and had just unlocked the door of the Tardis when his telephone started ringing. He turned back and stared at the thing for a few minutes. It had been years since he'd gotten a phone call. It was probably Martha.

John sighed and muttered, "Damn you, Mycroft." But still reached for the door of the blue phone box. John opened it, but instead of finding a phone, he walked right-smack into a man with a blue suit and a long brown coat.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize someone-" John Watson broke off. What he seeing was not possible. The inside of the phone box was at least half the size of his Baker Street address. It was circular and had a large thing in the center, with many levers and random handles. It reminded him of when Sherlock had given him some Japanese mushrooms which turned out to be hallucinogenic. Maybe the same thing had happened here. Mrs. Hudson could've accidentally slipped one of Sherlock's fermented Danish cheeses into his omelet. Some hallucinogens had a delayed effect.

The man that had bumped into The Doctor was completely unremarkable. His defining characteristic was a short, slightly stocky build. Naturally, the ratio of the outside of the Tardis to the inside had taken the man by surprise, and he had fallen silent.

"Hello, I'm The Doctor, and this is my Tardis, nice to meet you." Strange man told John Watson.

"I'm sorry, your what?" John may not have had Sherlock's iQ, but he was quite certain "Tardis" was not an English word.

"Tardis. T-A-R-D-I-S. Time And Relative Dimension In Space."

"But how is it bigger on the inside?" The Doctor's explanation for the name hadn't helped John understand the odd box in the slightest.

"The better question is, why are you here?" The Doctor asked the short man.

"I heard the phone ring. I assumed it was for me." As soon as John said the words, he realized how foolish that sounded. Then again, his other option for an excuse was that he wanted to investigate the odd phone booth.

"But this isn't even a phone booth. And even if it was, who rings a phone booth?" The Doctor asked incredulously.

"Well how was I supposed to know it wasn't a phone box? It bloody looks like one from the outside."

"It's a Tardis, whatever that may be, disguised as a police box. They're a sort of phone booth from the fifties, used to call the police during an emergencies," Sherlock had had enough of John's ignorance and decided he'd better keep his flatmate from embarrassing himself more than he'd already had.

"Come inside, now that you've seen it," The Doctor said, sounding dejected and slightly irritated, "We can talk in the library."

Through a hallway and mahogany door was the library. It was very large, almost as big as the main part of the Tardis, and had a kidney shaped pool in the corner. The Doctor gestured for the two men to sit in a couple of cushy armchairs in the corner opposite the pool.

"This cannot possibly be real," Sherlock stated, "How did you make the outside look so small? Mirrors? Or maybe the question is how did you make the inside so large? Matter decompressors?"

The Doctor was both impressed and confused, "How do you know about that? Those shouldn't exist on Earth for at least another 75 years. Even then, you can only accomplish small knots in matter, nothing to this scale."

"They don't. They're just a theory. Mine, actually. If you accelerate particles of anti-matter to the point of collapse you could, theoretically, make small holes in which you could fit more matter. Am I correct?"

The Doctor stared at the man in wonder. Tenna Moriarty was largely credited with inventing the Matter Decompressor, but there was, of course, the possibility that the idea had been thought of beforehand, or even stolen from this very man.

"I'm sorry, what's your name?" The Doctor asked the second man.

"Sherlock Holmes, consultant detective."

"Really? I've never heard of that position before. Is it a new type of job here? What is your exact function?"

"I'm the only one. I help the police when they're in over their heads."

"Sherlock Holmes... Why is that familiar? Any relation to Mycroft Holmes?"

"My brother. What is your relationship to him?" This Doctor obviously had some networking in the British government. But was he a spy? Or a scientist or engineer? And how could he possibly have the funding or resources to put a theory like his on this large a scale.

"We've met briefly. He knows of me, my accomplishments."

"And what are those, exactly?" John spoke up. He knew he was outclassed, but he wouldn't be imprisoned by it.

"Saving the world, and London, more than few times. Remember the flying star?"

"That was yours?" Sherlock asked.

"No, it was alien, but I did manage to get rid of it."

"Alien as in from another planet?" John Watson asked. Sherlock gave him a sarcastic stare, but The Doctor didn't seem surprised; as though he had been asked this question many times before, and he just nodded.

"That explains the name 'time and relative dimension in space' partially. So basically this is a spaceship?" Sherlock seemed mildly interested, an emotion The Doctor had never gotten from a human when discussing the Tardis.

"It's a time machine as well," The Doctor said defensively, frowning at Sherlock's (quite possibly feigned) disinterest.

"Prove it."

The Doctor led the two men back to the heart of the Tardis. John still remained anonymous to The Doctor (he hadn't yet taken the liberty to ask Jon's name), but he was used to being in the shadow cast by Sherlock's intelligence.

The Doctor said, "You were close with the matter decompressor, but wrong. It's a chameleon circuit," but it was quiet enough that Sherlock either didn't catch it, or didn't feel like acknowledging he was wrong. Was Sherlock that kind of man? The Doctor wondered.

"So, the question now is, do we go to the past or the future?" The Doctor inquired.

"Future, we already know what's happened in the past," Sherlock told The Doctor, who looked doubtful considering his many adventures had often proved that untrue. The Doctor thought Sherlock of great intelligence, genius probably, but some knowledge can only be gained through experience.

The Doctor decided to take Sherlock a few years ahead, just to prove his point. He had no intention of making Sherlock or the short man his companions.

Mycroft Holmes looked down at the blue phone booth. It seemed slightly familiar, though he'd never noticed it there before. Though John had entered the booth, he'd never picked up the phone; which had rung out. Then Mycroft had seen Sherlock enter, and now, 20 minutes later, they still hadn't exited. Mycroft had an idea of what they were up to. He could see it in the moments when they were alone. Mycroft initially had a few cameras in the Baker street address, but they were all found and dismantled by Sherlock within hours. Still, Mycroft hadn't needed to see what John did with his laptop.

Not a minute into Mycroft's musings, the blue telephone booth disappeared into thin air. No one on the street happened to notice. Now it had hit him why the blue box looked so familiar. He had heard of it, the transportation device of the infamous Doctor.