"Uh… Sherlock?" John asked. He had just woken up after hearing the strangest noise. A noise he couldn't quite place because it sounded like no other. Unable to go back to sleep, once he was up he never could seem to fall asleep again, John started to walk into the living room still a bit groggy from an interrupted sleep when something caught his eye.

"Yes?" Sherlock called from his room. Sherlock was still in bed, not sleeping, but thinking. He also heard the noise, but did not yet have a motivation for getting up to see the source. Deducing was always more fun.

"Now I know you have had some really… strange… things brought into this house, but was dragging an old police telephone box up into our living room really necessary?" John questioned, and walked into the kitchen, keeping his distance from the strange blue box in their sitting room. He needed some tea for all this madness.

Sherlock bolted up in bed. Police Box? What the hell was John talking about? Sherlock didn't bring home any police box, how could he? It would never fit through the doorframe. On top of that, how would John not have noticed if he did, or Mrs. Hudson? Sherlock swung his legs over the side of the bed, and glided towards his bedroom door, swinging it open. Oh god.

"JOHN, get away from the box!" hollered Sherlock, running towards John.

"What, why?" John asked. Sherlock slid across the floor, and into the kitchen. Grabbing John, and making him drop the tea he was making in the process, he pulled them behind the cover of the wall. Sherlock poked his head slowly around the corner of the wall.

"I didn't put it there." He said, looking at John sideways. John's mouth formed an O with realization. The old blue police box was not put there by either of them, and could be dangerous. It wouldn't be the first time that explosives had been planted in 221B, or armed assassins had hidden in their home.

John, crouched down, slowly made his way towards the kitchen counter. Opening one of the drawers, he pulled out the pistol Sherlock had used to shoot at their wall- again -a few weeks earlier. John had taken it, not wanting any more damage done to their flat. John clicked off the safety, and pointed it to the floor as he slowly made his way back to Sherlock, who was looking at the odd telephone box in their sitting room, studying it.

"Any brilliant deductions on it?" he asked, peeking at the blue police box

"Actually… some. Those boxes existed back in the 1950s, so I can assume that it is at least fifty or so years old. Judging from the paint however, it seems to be in very good care. That could mean it is just a replica, but I doubt it because there is some of the blue paint chipping on the bottom of the side facing us. It also doesn't look exactly like others of its kind which is a bit odd, but that could just be because someone else changed it so it would specifically look like this. Also, someone obviously found a way to get it in here, though I have not yet figured out how. And that, John, is all I've got at the moment." He said, deducing all he could about the strange blue box.

"Well… at least we know something. Do you think that there's someone inside, or it's rigged with exp-"

All of a sudden, the door to the blue police telephone box could be heard opening. The door was not directly facing them, so they couldn't see into it, but it was now obvious that there was someone in there. John stood up, raising his gun ready to shoot at whatever comes out of it.

"Doctor, I thought you said we were going to the Zorigo… we're in some bloke's living room!" a female voice said. Sherlock could nearly hear her rolling her eyes at this 'Doctor's' idiocy.

A strange man with untidy brown hair and a brown pinstripe suit poked his head out the side of the box and looked around. "Weeelll…. I told you there was something funny going on with the TARDIS. She didn't feel like she took off right and she launched us off our feet when we landed here. Not that she doesn't sometimes do that, but when she does, it's usually because something isn't right."

As he surveyed the sitting room in which his female friend had informed him they were currently in, he managed to see John pointing the gun at him with a confused look on his face, and Sherlock with an also confused look. The man seemed to jump at the sight, stumbling back where they couldn't see him in the police box. He then went back to where he was. He was not expecting to see people.

"Doctor?" said the British, female voice again. Moments later, a blonde girl was popped her head out him. She looked younger than him, easily by ten years, and when she noticed the weapon pointed at them, her hand gripped the Doctor's shoulder. She was obviously afraid, but not as much as most people would look when a gun was pointed at them.

"Oh… hello." The man said cheerily, though he eyes the gun in the blonde man's hand.

"Sherlock, am I insane, or is there actually a normal looking bloke with some girl now in our sitting room that came out of that police box? Instead of an assassin of some sorts?" John said, and looked to the man in question. The man and the girl look at each other.

"No… because that would make me insane, John. There is... Who are you exactly?" the curly haired consulting detective asked, standing a bit straighter with John at his side. John still had the gun pointed at the two, but his finger was far from the trigger.

"Oh, how rude of us. I'm the Doctor, and this is my companion, Rose." The Doctor said, and slowly walked out of the telephone box, Rose behind him. A click was heard- the sound of the doors shutting. "We don't mean any harm, cross my hearts. So if you don't mind- John was it? -putting that gun away? I don't like guns…."

"Sherlock?" John asked. He didn't know if he should do as the stranger asked or not.

"Put the safety on and put it down on the counter. They don't seem like a threat. Yet." He said, and walked into the sitting room as John followed his instructions. Sherlock walked over to his chair, and sat down, getting into his thinking position- his hands clasped together right under his nose, sitting with his legs criss-crossed. John walked over, gun away, and sat in his chair as well, getting comfy. He had a feeling this was going to be a long day.

"Take a seat and we'll talk."