"I don't want to go." The young boy sleepily rubbed his eyes.
The man froze, one hand still on the handle of his blue police box. "What did you say?"
The boy crossed his arms. "I said I don't want to go."
The Doctor turned to look back at his small acquaintance. He had been a good companion, despite his young age. He was smart-brilliant was a more accurate term. He was brave and observant, constantly learning from his environment. This boy could fix the chameleon circuit, if given enough time. Sorrow filled the man's heart as he thought about what leaving the boy would mean. In that moment, he wasn't sure if he wanted to leave. The Doctor crossed the child's bedroom and folded his lanky frame so he was eye level with the boy.
He didn't want to go either.
"I don't want to leave you! You'll be all alone!" The boy's turquoise eyes were frustrated.
The older man looked up and down his young friend. He flinched as his eyes rested on the white bandages poking out from between the black curls. He rested his hand on the boy's shoulder.
This boy could fix the chameleon circuit.
Dried, once crimson stains dotted the white dressings.
But at what cost?
"I know." The Doctor's eyes locked with the boy's. "I know you don't. Sometimes we have to go, even if we don't want to."
The boy thought he saw his mentor's eyes were now a light grey, rather than the usual dark brown. He passed it off as a trick of the lighting.
"Sometimes our leaving will save those we care about." The Doctor pulled the boy in for a hug. He was afraid of letting go. Letting go meant leaving this adventure. Letting go meant setting aside all of the memories. He felt small hands grip his trench coat, silently begging for him to stay.
Letting go meant never seeing his friend again.
The older man sat back. "Good-bye, Sherlock. You'll do great things one day."
The Doctor stood, taking one last look at his boy companion. He reluctantly turned and walked back to his TARDIS.
"Good-bye, Doctor."
Door partially open, the man froze at the sound of his voice. It was so strained, so emotional, so confused. With one last pang of guilt, he disappeared within the ship without looking back.
And Sherlock Holmes, age 6, watched that mystic blue box disappear, leaving him alone in his dark bedroom.