Molly Hooper was not sure how much longer she could take this. She'd always thought herself rather patient, but this, well, it was wearing her down. She was doing him a favor, Sherlock, and he would just go on about her personal life (as though it were any of his business how many times she texted Greg) and how very bored he was. He had said it would only be a few days—certainly no longer than a week. And to be perfectly fair, it was only a few days. But, dear god, if she heard one more comment from him...

Someone at the door. That was... unusual.

"Molly Hooper!" He was a young man. Strange, in everything from his enthusiasm (had they ever even met before?) to his clothing (a bow tie-really?).

"Er...?"

"Right!" he said. "You don't know me yet, do you? The Doctor. That's it. Just the Doctor. Mind if I step in for a bit?"

She did mind, as a matter of fact, considering the fact that there was a supposedly dead man sitting on her couch making snide remarks at the television.

He went ahead anyway. "Only be a moment," he told her.

"Sorry about the mess," said Molly. "Wasn't really expecting..."

"Oh, no, Miss Hooper, hardly a problem. Now's the time for an adventure. Or two, or three. Well, quite a few actually. Bit unpredictable, to be honest."

At the word "adventure" Sherlock paused his thrilling analysis of whatever awful program he was watching now.

"Why not me?" he asked, rather angrily. "I'm the most logical candidate."

"You're supposed to be dead," said the Doctor, "aren't you? Can't exactly have you out and about, can we?"

The Doctor stared at him for what felt like the longest time, in a way that was so very Sherlock that Molly could barely keep herself from laughing out loud. After quite some time, he seemed satisfied. "Not to mention that you're unable to manage politeness toward members of your own species. How would you possibly handle other ones?"

He paused for a bit, perhaps to allow Sherlock to fully absorb what he had said or perhaps to let Molly catch her breath from laughing before beginning again. "So, Molly, if you'd care to join me...?"

She followed him, because, well, what wouldn't she do to rid herself of Sherlock? And before she could stop herself she added, "Oh, Sherlock? Feed Toby, would you?"

"He was a bit rude, wasn't he?" the Doctor commented, leading her off toward a blue box that was definitely not there the last time she looked. Turned a key, opened the door, walked inside like all of this was normal. And okay, it wouldn't be so odd—at least for him, from what she'd gathered. But there was then the whole issue of it being much bigger on the inside than it ought to have been.

Molly didn't say anything about it, though. Not for a long time. Instead she said simply, "That's Sherlock for you," as though there was nothing at all extraordinary to be seen.

For just a moment, he seemed almost surprised.

Feeling a bit uncomfortable she said, "It's… very roomy."

"Another dimension. Nothing much, simple really."

"Right."

"So, where to, Molly Hooper?"

"What?"

"Well, she's not just a blue box."

"Yeah," Molly laughed. "I noticed."

"TARDIS—time and relative dimension in space. So, where to?"

"Anywhere?"

"Anywhere."

And suddenly, with the entire universe within her reach, she can hardly think of one planet in the solar system, one moment in history, a single star. She could name anywhere—absolutely anywhere—and he could take her there. This odd blue box could go wherever she liked, but nowhere seemed quite as important anymore.

So he chose for her, that very first trip, driving or flying (or whatever the hell he was doing) the TARDIS in the most ridiculous manner until there was a noise resembling that of a dying whale, and the wild movement stopped.

"Go ahead," he told her excitedly. "Step outside."

"Okay… if you—"

"We're in space!"

"Bow-tie nebula!" the Doctor said, sounding ridiculously pleased with himself.

"Oh! We— Not any gravity, is there?" She found herself giggling wildly, though she had no idea why—fright, excitement, nervousness.

"Literally the coolest thing in the universe! Has a gift shop, too!"

"Oh! Greg—I should get him something."

"Yes, yes, shall we? Then again, they're always rather crowded…"

"Right. Of course."

"There is a rather nice spot right around here, though," the Doctor added, "free from all the tourism. Meant to park there, of course, but, you know—the TARDIS is a bit…"

And so they ended up having a bit of a picnic that day, the Doctor going on and on about everywhere they could go.

And after that, she even managed to convince him to take her to the gift shop for a souvenir bowtie.

AN: Why is it that all I ever write for the Sherlock fandom is crossovers? Hm. Well, I don't care. I'll Make a Man Out of Wholock is pretty much my favorite thing in all of fanfiction. (Though I never posted that here, did I? Well, it's on A03 under the title (oh, god, I'm so, so sorry) "In Which the Han Dynasty Completely Lacks Heterosexuality" and it's basically what happens when I have a movienight with the Creepy Council/Kingdom.) Anyway, I'm not too fond of my Molly characterization/dialogue right now, so if you have any pointers, I'd definitely love to hear what you've got to say. Thanks for reading.