Sherlock remembered vividly - though all his memories were vivid - the first time the Doctor had visited. Sherlock was four, and being forced to play in the back garden with Mycroft. They were sitting at opposite ends, as far away from each other as possible. Sherlock was trying to count all the blades of grass near him. Mycroft was sitting and staring at the sky, thinking about who knows what. They both looked up in surprise when a strange, grating noise began. Neither of them could locate its origin. They looked at each other in a single moment of united confusion.
It ended when, against all logic, a police box faded in and out of view, until finally materializing completely right smack in between the brothers. A man wearing a bow tie stepped out. "Oh, hello! I've found the right place then. And apparently the right time, excellent!" Mycroft stayed sitting down, but Sherlock stood up and ran towards the funny man with the big blue box. He stroked the side, and stared up at the man in wonder.
"Who are you?" he asked, perplexed.
"I'm the Doctor. You're Sherlock, aren't you? Rather a funny name. Oh, and Mycroft! What a pleasure." Mycroft didn't move. He shrunk further back into his corner of the yard.
"How do you know my name?" he asked timidly.
"I know everything about you! I'm your great-great-great-great-great- oh, you get the point - grandfather," the Doctor explained. Mycroft obviously doubted this, and ran in fright to the house. Sherlock looked at him smugly. He knew that Mycroft would be missing out on the greatest adventure of all.
Sherlock doubted that he was, however distantly, related to this man, but he humored the stranger and said, "Prove it."
"Hm, that's a tough one. You get right down to business, don't you?" he asked, ruffling Sherlock's hair. Sherlock flattened it out again, annoyed, and crossed his arms.
"Prove it," he repeated, more insistently this time. The Doctor muddled around for a minute, turning around and turning back, then finally appearing to figure out how best to go about proving their relationship.
He put his hands on Sherlock's shoulders and steered him towards the police box. "In we go," he said, and they entered the most fantastic place, something that boggled the young boy's mind and left him dumbfounded for years.
The box, which appeared ordinary, if slightly blue, on the outside, was enormous on the inside. Sherlock stopped and stared, spellbound by the beauty and impossibility of it. The Doctor leaned against a railing, looking at him expectantly. Sherlock turned his gaze onto this wondrous man and said, "It's smaller on the outside."
The Doctor appeared to be stalled for a second by this comment, then resumed his usual manner. "Quite right - I mean, most people switch it around, you know, "It's bigger on the inside!" but I like your thinking, quite out of the box - or rather, in it!" He reached out to pat the young Sherlock on his head again, but he managed to duck out of the way.
"Don't do that," he complained, crossing his arms again.
"Oh, all right. Anyway, you want proof? You're getting proof. If you would step this way," the Doctor said, gesturing to a screen. "This is going to scan your entire body to find any traces of me in it, okay? Won't hurt a bit." Sherlock stood completely still.
"You know, I know lots of science, you don't have to make it easy for me," he said out of the corner of his mouth.
"I don't doubt that, no, not at all - it's me that doesn't get it," the Doctor assured him. Sherlock resisted the urge to roll his eyes - grown-ups never understood that he knew much more, so much more than they did. At that moment, there was a ping, and the Doctor pulled the screen down to Sherlock's height so he could take a look. "There you are - proof. You are my direct descendant."
"How do I know you're not lying? What if this is a fake?" asked Sherlock. As much as he wanted to believe it was real. It was just too good to be true, that he was related to some supernatural being.
"I have a police box that appeared out of nowhere that's bigger on the inside and you're asking me whether I faked all this? Your answer is a resounding no," the Doctor replied. Sherlock had a feeling that this was the truth, and from that point on, everything the Doctor said would be taken as absolute, undeniable truth. Which was not always a smart thing to do.
