Chapter 3

Once John had been disguised in a curly red wig and was wearing a purple polo shirt with a really ugly beige windbreaker, the Doctor landed the TARDIS. They stepped out into the sunlight of a warm summer day, and once John's eyes had adjusted to the light, he saw that they were on the outskirts of a large property. Along with a large house, there was a pool, barn, and what looked like a small city park.

"So this is the Holmes house?" John asked, somewhat rhetorically.

"About five years later than the last time we were here."

"Five years, right. Why five years?"

The Doctor grinned mischievously. "Why not?"

It was then that John heard a woman calling out.

"Sherlock! Sherlock, where are you?" He saw her a moment later, coming around from the far side of the house. She looked equally worried and annoyed. John wondered who she was.

"And that would be Sherlock's nanny." The Doctor answered John's unasked question. "She's wasting her breath, he won't be found unless he wants to be."

"So how are we supposed to find him?"

"Curiosity. Not ours, but his. Now let's go. And remember, from this moment on you are just John. It's a common enough name, no need to bring Watson into it."

"Yeah, of course not. It's not that I won't be completely recognizable anyway." John muttered sarcastically, scratching his wig.

The Doctor ignored him, choosing instead to reach into his jacket and pull out a thing. He waved it around a little, then smiled, stuffing it away. "Right, we go this way."

"What was that thing?" John asked as the Doctor started walking towards the park-like area.

"This?" The Doctor pulled it back out and John nodded. "Sonic Screwdriver. Incredibly useful. Doesn't work on wood though, so don't ask."

"Screwdriver?"

"Yes. Come on, this way."

The two men walked in silence for a few minutes. John was admiring the property. It was large and lush and John couldn't help but wonder what had happened to it in the present as both Sherlock and Mycroft lived in London and aside from the comment about Christmas dinner; neither really mentioned their childhood or their parents.

"Alright, he should be somewhere around here." The Doctor said, stopping abruptly in the middle of a clump of pine trees. "Sherlock?" He asked quietly. "Sherlock, you can come out."

A small voice came from one of the trees. "Who are you?"

"I'm the Doctor, and this is my friend John."

"I don't need a doctor." He said haughtily, but John heard one of the trees rustle and moment later a young Sherlock had crawled out from under it.

"Well then it's a good thing I'm not a normal Doctor."

"Then why are you here?"

"We were just in the area. I haven't seen you since you were a baby, so I thought we'd stop by." The Doctor reached out a hand, which Sherlock hesitated before taking, and helped him to his feet.

"Did the nanny send you to look for me?"

"No, I saw her though, she seems worried. Don't you think you'd best let her know you're alright?"

"No. She's annoyed with me because I was dissecting a frog at the kitchen table. Apparently that's unsanitary." Sherlock scowled, and John laughed.

"So you came out here to sulk?" Sherlock glared at John. John smiled at him, some things never changed.

"I do not sulk." Sherlock said with as much force as his young voice would allow.

"Of course you don't. And you never will, either. You'll shoot the walls, won't talk for days, but sulk? Never."

The Doctor placed his hand on John's forearm and shook his head.

"Sorry," John whispered, the smile falling from his face.

"I don't understand." Sherlock said quietly, and John saw how much he hated having to say that.

"You will some day. Or maybe you won't. There's really no way to tell." The Doctor frowned.

"I still don't know why you're here."

"We thought you might like to do something fun, didn't we, John?"

"Hm? Oh, yes. Yes of course."

Sherlock didn't say anything for a minute, choosing instead to look them both over carefully. "You're not from around here." He finally decided to say.

"No, we're not." John said softly.

"Where are you from?"

"Can't tell you that just set. You'll find out when you're older, I promise. Now, something fun?"

A look of annoyance flashed over Sherlock's face. "What do you have in mind?"

"What do you consider fun?"

Sherlock pondered this. "Mycroft's going to a movie with a girl soon. We could go spy on them and tease him about it later."

John snorted.

"How about something that doesn't involve Mycroft?" The Doctor suggested kindly.

"We could catch different kinds of fish from the pond and see which ones die first out of water."

"Absolutely not." Mycroft stepped into the small cluster of trees. "If you catch fish, you let them live. You've likely already scared off the nanny. Mummy won't be pleased that she'll need to find a new one." He glared at Sherlock. "Another new one."

"It's not my fault none of them like me."

"But it is your fault they keep quitting."

Sherlock scowled. "Nobody asked your opinion. Please leave now, the Doctor said we could do something fun, and it won't be if you're here."

Mycroft looked up at the Doctor who smiled guiltily at him. "Ah, Doctor. It's been a while." His eyes swept over to John, who was looking at the ground. "And John, nice to see you." John looked up and smiled briefly. "I can't say I was expecting the two of you to turn up again. And you both look exactly the same. Not a day older, wearing the same clothes…"

"Well it was dark last time, you can't have gotten that good a look at us-"

"Don't insult my intelligence, John. I may only be thirteen but I can guarantee that I am cleverer than you, whoever you are. I would say I'm cleverer than him to but," He turned back to the Doctor, "I've been researching you, Doctor."

"Of course you have," the Doctor muttered, "And what have you found out?"

Mycroft chose not to answer his question. "I wish to have a word with John. Take Sherlock to the pond, don't let him kill any of the fish."

The Doctor exchanged a quick glance with John, who nodded, and grabbed Sherlock's hand, pulling him out of the trees before he had a chance to argue.

John suddenly felt vulnerable. He was alone with a teenager who was obviously not pleased to see him, a little large for his age, and would become a very important person in the government, no matter how minor he insisted his position was. John suddenly felt very foolish in his weak disguise. Surely Mycroft would remember his face regardless of it. Surely he had known John the moment he had laid eyes on him, or would know John. The tenses were confusing. Even more confusing was the meaning behind Mycroft's words once he began to speak.

"My brother was a very quiet baby. The fussiness and general displeasure began when he learned to talk. He rarely cried after he turned 4 weeks old, disregarding the time when Cousin Abigail dropped him." Mycroft sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "He cried when you left last time, for hours. We thought he must have been sick. Mummy and Father still have no idea what caused it. But I knew it must have had something to do with you.

"I don't know who you are. And I don't know who the Doctor is, although I have heard some theories, and I don't know why you seem so interested in my brother, but he seems to like you, and Sherlock doesn't like many people, so I'm going to allow it. But if anything happens to him while he's with you-" John was momentarily astounded that he was being threatened by someone a third of his age, regardless of who he would grow up to be. "If anything happens to him because of you, you will regret it."

"And what if something happens to him because of you?" The words slipped out of John's mouth before he could think about them.

"Then I will regret it." said Mycroft sadly, his head dropping slightly, his eyes leaving John.

"You seem much older than thirteen." John told him.

"Yes, well." Mycroft smiled sadly. "You had best get to Sherlock and the Doctor, I don't trust the two of them by the pond, the Doctor seems hardly more than a child." John nodded and went to leave. "The nanny won't be able to see the pond from the house, I'll tell her she's fine and she'll stop looking for him."

"Two strange men came to visit your five year old brother, and instead of calling the police you're going to tell his nanny not to look for him?"

"The two men came in a blue police box that can appear and disappear out of thin air, I don't see what good the police would be if it came to arresting you."

John chuckled. "Yeah, that's a good point."

Mycroft held out his hand to John. "Until we meet again, John."

John shook it. "It was nice to see you, Mycroft."

John went to the pond where he spent a lovely afternoon with Sherlock and the Doctor knee deep in water trying to catch fish with their bare hands.

He learned that Sherlock was exceptionally bright and perceptive, as he had expected him to be, but was also bitter and seemingly lonely, which he had also expected.

When it came five o'clock the Doctor announced that it was time to for them to go, and anyway, Sherlock should really go inside and wash up for dinner because he was absolutely filthy.

Sherlock pouted. "Will you come back?"

"Of course."

"Soon?"

"As soon as I can."

Sherlock walked with them back to the TARDIS.

"Where are you going to go?"

"I don't know yet."

"You're from the future, aren't you?"

"Something like that."

"Can I come with you." The hopeful expression that crossed Sherlock's face was one that John had never seen before.

"Someday, yes, but not today."

The three of them bid their goodbyes, Sherlock baring his disappointment better than most adults John knew. The Doctor made Sherlock stand outside the TARDIS, and told him if he didn't take his eyes off of it he would see something amazing.

And then he and John disappeared into space.

A/N Thanks to everyone who has subscribed and favourited, it really means a lot, especially considering I have no idea what I'm doing when I write this story. The words just kind of come out in a big mess of... messiness. I have no idea where it's going or what'll happen so if you have any suggestions feel free to leave them.