Clara ran a hand over the levers on the TARDIS console. "So, I was thinking-"
"Well don't. That's a horrible habit for humans to get into," the Scottish-sounding alien flying the ship replied.
"I was thinking," Clara restated, "that I want to meet somebody. You said Robin Hood wasn't real. And you were wrong. So I thought, why not try visiting somebody else?"
"Any specific somebody in mind?"
"Well... would it be possible to meet..."
"Yes?"
"Sherlock Holmes?"
"Sherlock Holmes?"
"Yes! I always thought he seemed like a brilliant person. It would be amazing if he was actually real."
The Doctor pressed a few buttons. "Actually, that's surprisingly doable. you may be a bit disappointed, though." The TARDIS started its familiar whooshing noise and the interior started shaking.
"What do you mean?"
"The man who wrote Sherlock Holmes, he was writing about a real person. He just didn't know it. You see, as with many great artists, he had visions. Sherlock Holmes does, in fact, exist. Just... not exactly in Victorian times." There was a thump, and the Doctor opened the doors. "He in fact lived..."
Clara peeked her head outside. "Doctor, this is the twenty-first century."
The man's excitement seemed to drop from his face. "Ah, yes. Thanks for spoiling the reveal."
A sudden blaring started coming from the screen on the console. The Doctor rushed back inside and stared at it. "And that's... that's not good news."
"What is it?"
"Tell me Clara, have you ever heard of the Jari?"
"Uh...no."
"The Jari are an extremely dangerous alien race. The can take the form of anyone who's DNA they have. Unfortunately, they wear out the bodies quickly and constantly need to shift forms."
"Well, that doesn't sound so bad."
"Yes, except for the fact that they breathe fire and use that ability to disintegrate the bodies that they take on the form of. And they need a new one on a weekly basis."
"Ah. Maybe that does sound bad. Why did you ask about them?"
"Well, one just landed in the center of London."