Chapter 2

"Oh, god," John breathed. Sherlock halted his examination immediately and turned on the man.

"You recognize this thing?" he demanded.

"Well…"

"Spit it out, John."

"I was trapped in one of these for over twelve hours." Sherlock raised his eyebrows in obvious surprise. "We found an old one, and you know how military men are. It was payback for locking a few in a regular phone booth and dumping water on them."

"What was it like on the inside?"

"Um…Wooden? It was really beat up, old."

Sherlock hissed in frustration as he slowly circled the box. "Are you sure it was this box?"

"I never said that!"

"Well you should have specified."

John opened his mouth to retort, but before he could say anything, he was interrupted by a noise like a lock clicking and a door swinging. Sherlock bolted to the front of the box and stopped in front of the opening doors. John watched as he paused there and gave the smile John loved so much, and then swiftly walked through the doors. John followed after only a moment's hesitation, sending a silent plea to the universe they wouldn't be locked in together.

Though if it were with Sherlock…

He didn't have a chance to finish that thought, as his mind was sidetracked by what he saw. Through the doors was a room. Not a small cramped space, but a massive room with extensive amounts of machinery whose purpose John couldn't even guess at. He barely registered Sherlock's "Magnificent!" as he spun around towards the door. He must've missed something, and the size difference was an optical illusion, he thought as he went to go outside, barely aware that Sherlock was babbling on. Before he reached his destination, however, the doors slammed in his face.

"Uh, Sherlock?" he interrupted as he tried, and failed, to get the doors open again.

"Not now, John. I'm thinking. Now there must be a-"

"Sherlock."

"Or maybe it was some sort of-"

"SHERLOCK!"

"What, John?" The thin man turned around angrily at the one who interrupted his train of thought.

"It won't open." John rattled the door to prove his point.

"What do you mean, it won't open?" Sherlock closed the gap in fewer steps than most people would need, and pushed on the door. "Someone must've locked us in." John decided that if there was a God, he either had a sense of humor or was a prick.

He started banging on the door, trying to get the attention of whoever had locked them in. "Hey, prats! This isn't fun-ack!"

The floor was moving. It turned into a steep slope beneath their feet, and soon John and Sherlock were jammed together, sliding who knows where. John felt his eyes were fooling him as he watched the shape of the floor change in front of them, just quick enough to direct their movements. Looking behind them showed that it returned to normal as soon as they were past, almost as if there was a bubble around them causing this. He felt his stomach protest this impossible feat, and closed his eyes. It was easier to just concentrate on his other senses. The feeling of sliding. Sherlock's warmth enveloping his side.

The delicious scent of Sherlock.

John's eyes flew open at this thought. He pushed it to the recesses of his mind, thinking himself stupid despite that opinion never helping him before. Sherlock was just his friend. And straight.

Was he?

John gladly let that thought vanish from his mind as they finally got tossed into a corner of the room. "What the hell just happened?" he asked Sherlock from the uncomfortable position. He knew before the question was finished that it was in vain. But before Sherlock could admit his not knowing, they heard the sound of people talking and laughing. The doors swung open, and two…interesting people walked in.

"Oh, toss off," said one, a ginger woman who looked to be in her forties, her smile the only thing ruining her attempted air of indignity.

"Oh, come on!" said the man. He was very odd, wearing 3D glasses.

He also had the most magnificent hair John had ever seen. "It was funny!"

"You're one to talk, wearing those things!" she retorted. John had had enough, and decided to get their attention.

"Um, excuse me?" he called, but they didn't seem to hear it as they continued their conversation. "Sorry-um excuse-EXCUSE ME!"

Were they deaf? John decided to approach him, going to stand up. That's when he realized.

He and Sherlock were stuck.

He could shift positions, but no more. He couldn't even get space between them. The unwelcome thoughts about Sherlock's nearness were brought back up to the surface.

Sherlock…he'd been awful quiet since the two have come in. John turned and looked, only slightly surprised to see him in his meditative position. He also noticed the wrappers of five nicotine patches littering the floor. He'd never seen his companion so befuddled.

"Um…Sherlock?"

"Not now, John," he hissed. John gave an exasperated sigh, filling his cheeks then letting the air out as he let his head drop.

"That's odd," John heard the man say.

"What is it?" replied the woman.

"I got a reading, followed immediately by an opposite one. It's almost like the TARDIS changed the report."

"Why would it do that?"

"She," he corrected. "I dunno…."

John watched as he tweaked levers and pushed buttons. This machine-the TARDIS-was hiding him and Sherlock. But why?

"Well, she seems determined not to show me," he said when he stood back after several minutes of this. The man huffed out a sigh much like the one John had just given. "Might as well be on our way. You wanted to see the planet Midnight and its wonderful spa, right?" He began turning and pushing things again, and soon a loud noise filled the air. John watched in amazement as the machines sprang to life and started moving, seemingly of their own accord. Then the whole room started vibrating and moving, and John felt the need to grab hold of something. He noticed that Sherlock didn't seem to find this need though, and remembered that this…thing, wasn't letting them move much anyway.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" he shouted, but again to no avail. The couple hanging tight to the middle consul of the room gave no sign of hearing them. John just held on, his brain confused by the feel of the force keeping him in place.

Finally, the movement stopped. John looked up in surprise as the strange man let out a shout. "What? Why? Don't stop here! We wanted Midnight four-hundred years in the future, not Earth twelve-hundred years in the past!"

Twelve-hundr-What? thought John. he looked up as the man strode past him through a door he hadn't even noticed, followed by the woman. He listened as their footsteps and conversation diminished down what seemed a long hallway. He would've wondered how big the inside really was, but before the thought could form, the floor changed again.

This time, the floor rose up to make a long slide, sending him and Sherlock right out the doors. They landed outside in, the middle of the forest. They both jumped up to bang on the doors of the box, but before they could, the thing started to fade. It was like watching a movie fade to black, but only the box disappeared from sight. John was in too much shock to realize their predicament, until Sherlock pointed it out.

"We just moved…in a strange blue box…

…into the middle of nowhere."