Sherlock, for once in his life, had no idea where he was. One moment, he had been examining a bit of ash in the crack of the wall; the next, he was in an unfamiliar place that certainly wasn't modern-day London.
He examined the crowd. Brightly colored, boxy clothes could be spotted on nearly every woman. This definitely wasn't the modern day.
This was 1960's London.
He moved toward a police box. If he wanted to seem fairly normal in this time period, he would go to he police. (That's what everyone would do, right?) Pulling to open it, he did not find a telephone. Instead, the entire panel opened, much like a door. He stepped inside.
"Ah, Clara," said a Scottish voice, "You're..." He saw Sherlock.
"Not Clara," Sherlock finished.
There was a silence between the two.
"I'm Sherlock Holmes... who are you?"
"I'm the doctor."
Sherlock paused. Could this be the funny man who Sally Sparrow said helped her with the weeping angels?
Sherlock stepped forward. "Do you know anything about Weeping Angels?"
"You've been talking to Sally sparrow," the Doctor replied. "Did the angels send you to 1968?"
Sherlock nodded, fully noticing the size of the room he'd just walked into. This was definitely not a phone box.
"What the..." Sherlock muttered.
"Just noticed?" asked the Doctor, his large eyebrows raised in disbelief. "History calls you the most observant man in the universe."
"I try to be," Sherlock said, but he wasn't paying attention to the Doctor anymore. He took notice of the odd things in the room, noting the complicated-seeming control system and what seemed to be many vast corridors.
Definitely not a police box.
"What's your current time period?" the Doctor asked, sighing.
"I want to get back to London. August 21, 2011. 3-ish."
The doctor flipped a few switches and turned a few knobs.
"You're taking me back?" Sherlock asked.
"I suppose I ought to," the Doctor replied, annoyed.
The Doctor slammed one last button, and the box wheezed and groaned as it left 1968.