Mycroft had had his eye on the National Museum since he'd first found the pattern of the disappearances that were happening world-wide and across time. It wasn't the building itself that he was interested in, but rather an odd artifact on display there. Somehow it had a connection to the phenomena, but where it came into the timeline of relevance was sketchy at best. At worst, it could give one a migraine from trying to muddle through the idea that a prison cell could affect people and events before, but only after, it had been created.
Mycroft took an aspirin as he looked out the window of his limousine and decided to figure out what he would do when he confronted the person who was behind this. He had a heavy suspicion that it would be one of the Doctor's numerous enemies. It usually was. Just mix up a bit of time-muddling and alien activity in a mysterious container and you've got yourself the perfect Doctor magnet. Before long, Mycroft knew, he'd be registering another Code 9 in the records. It was only a matter of time, and Mycroft was good at waiting.
Mycroft was spared the torture of pondering impossible solutions to enigmatic problems by the sight of the museum front approaching through the window.
He dismissed his driver, saying he had arranged for transportation to give him a ride home when he was finished, and went in through the locked front doors. Why not act as though he owned the place? He had at least a small share in the display that he was interested in.
As Mycroft ventured toward his eventual goal deep within the museum, he listened as the intercom buzzed and a double-echo voice announced that an Amelia Pond's aunt was waiting for her at Reception. Good. Now Mycroft knew which of the Doctor's many faces and personalities he was dealing with. He looked over to the reception desk on his left where he saw the source of the announcement and double-voice. He smiled his half-smile at the clerk and did a barely perceptible double-take.
"Did you see that woman disappear?" Mycroft asked the clerk loudly as he walked over to the desk.
The earnest clerk looked up from a book he was reading and stammered, "N-No, sir. Who are you talking about, sir?"
"Did you not just page an Amelia Pond to Reception for the girl's aunt?"
"No. No…sir?"
Mycroft gave the man a look that said, Just as I suspected, and suddenly made a serious face, saying, "Well, carry on, then."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
As Mycroft made his way back to where he'd strayed from the path to his destination, he paused for a moment, looked back at the forlorn reception desk and registered something close to sadness for the disappeared man who'd sat there not one minute ago. Then he resumed his walk with new determination, but he didn't let the knowledge that events were speeding up stop him from gently swinging his umbrella back and forth as he purposefully walked on.
He arrived at the exhibit and registered the calm, dark atmosphere of the room as he stood in the doorway admiring the colossal artifact in the middle of the room. Mycroft ambled around to the right, inspecting the side of the piece for disturbances. He didn't see any, but suddenly he heard one. A disturbance in the hallway produced small, curious footsteps that carried a child in though the very entrance to the room that he'd used only a moment ago. The footsteps came very close, crept under the restricting rope around the exhibit, and paused for a moment.
The air began to vibrate as the giant, grey cube in the middle of the museum began to wake up and rotate its newly green-glowing bolts. A bright light began to illuminate the room in front of the ancient cube and Mycroft heard a female voice quietly say something from inside the cube. Heavy, unsteady footsteps carried the speaker out of the enormous prison cell and into the room. Now the woman's voice was louder and more sure as she spoke to the child about being an answer phone and the year being 1996.
Here Mycroft found absolute proof that time was being distorted. The year was most definitely not 1996. He decided to wait and listen for his cue to enter the conversation.
The child – a Scottish girl like the woman – wanted to know how the older girl had got herself into the cube in the first place. She replied vaguely, saying that it was a long – very long, apparently – story.
The button replaying the box's history was pressed and the recording announced that the box was called a Pandorica, which had been guarded by a Roman Centurion before he'd disappeared almost 70 years ago. The melodic voice was interrupted by a whirring sound which accompanied the arrival of yet another being that shouldn't have been in the museum: a dalek.