"Well, hello there! Good to see you, it's been a while, I was just starting to wonder whether I'd ever see you again, and then I remembered: portals can work both ways, not often, well, actually I'm not sure about that, but I figured it was worth a shot to try, after all, it's been—how long has it been?—it's been two weeks since we first met! Blimey, time goes by fast, I hardly even noticed how long it's been, but anyways, I wanted to let you know that I've been trying to figure out why your pantry has a portal in it, but I didn't find anything—it just happens to be a portal—there isn't a proper explanation for it, at least not one that I can find—and I've had help, too, it wasn't just me searching for answers—but this is quite weird, I will admit that—I'm starting to ramble, aren't I? Sorry, I tend to do that, it's just—oh well, how are you?"

Sierra was trying to wrap her head around the idea that there was a portal in her pantry and at the same time, she was trying to listen to The Doctor talk, which was proving to be an impossible task.

"Wait," she said, trying to recall everything he'd said. "It hasn't been two weeks since we spoke. It's been a few hours—nine, exactly."

The Doctor's expression fell as he worked to understand what Sierra was saying. "So, this is a portal…that goes through time streams?"

"Do you mean time zones?"

"No…" his voice trailed off as he became immersed in thought. "Time streams—well I'm sure you're aware of what time is, correct?—this portal seems to be connecting your time stream to mine—"

"What is a time stream?" Sierra interrupted. She was still unable to process any of the things that were happening—and now she had to learn new terminology?

"It's the way time moves," The Doctor replied absently. "For example, nine hours in your time stream is two weeks in mine, and this portal—" he turned to face the pantry door, "—is what connects the two. Now, I'm curious."

With that, The Doctor opened the door, stepped through, and was gone.

Sierra was stuck. She knew she only had a few moments to decide whether or not she would follow him, but she couldn't move her legs. She was confused and scared at the same time, but she was also craving an adventure. At the last moment, she swallowed the lump in her throat, and opened the door and stepped through the passageway as well.

It was the same familiar coffee shop. She looked around, scanning the entire area for any clues about where or how she'd seen this place before. Obviously, she'd been there the previous night—but even then, she had felt that she recognized the small café somehow, and was simply unable to place it. She didn't have much time for thinking, as she looked ahead and saw The Doctor, already outside, about to become lost in the crowd.

She wasn't aware of the fact that she'd begun running, but once outside, she looked up and down the street, and was unable to hold back a scream.

The crowd around her gawked as they walked by her, and she simply stood there, unable to move once again. The Doctor, who had been a few feet ahead of her, turned around in sheer panic, saw Sierra standing in the midst of the crowd, and came back running.

"What happened?" he asked, concerned. "Are you alright?"

She said something, but it was completely inaudible.

"What?" he asked again.

She looked up at him. "This is Baker Street," she whispered. "Baker. Street."

The Doctor looked around, as if he were expecting to see some sort of sign to understand what her implication was by this statement.

"Yes, this is Baker Street, there's a sign just right there, now, why did you scream?" he asked.

"Because this is Baker Street!" Sierra shouted. People passing by were now giving the pair very strange looks indeed, but The Doctor still didn't understand what the big fuss was about. "Do you know who lives on Baker Street?"

The Doctor looked around once again, this time a bit more confused. "Sherlock Holmes?"

Sierra let out a gasp. "He's—he's real?"

"Are you alright?" The Doctor asked for a third time.

Sierra rushed back into the café and took a seat in a booth, with her hands on her head. This was becoming entirely implausible. She hadn't stopped to think about how The Doctor was real, she was thinking of how there was a portal in her pantry. Now, both of these were very important questions. But she had to find out why—and how—The Doctor was real. As he came back into the café to check on her, she greeted him with questions.

"How are you real?" she asked. "How is any of this real?"

"I'm a Timelord," he said slowly. He bent down a bit to match with her eye level. "What's wrong? What is happening?"

"Timelords don't exist!" Sierra yelled. "They're just a character in a TV show—you're not real!"

And with that, she slapped him.

For a moment, they both just stayed there—Sierra sitting down, and The Doctor at her eye level. She bit her lip. "I am sorry," she said quietly. "I'm just—I don't get how this is—I'm sorry."

"It's alright," The Doctor said, "it's happened before. You've got a strong arm."

"Sorry," Sierra mumbled. "But, can you please explain to me how you're real?"

"I don't understand the question," The Doctor asked. "I'm real, you're real, this is all real, the portal is real—"

"The question is how?" Sierra said. "How can you be real? You're a fictional character. You're in a TV show. You're—you're Matt Smith!"

At this point, The Doctor was impossibly confused, not knowing anything that Sierra was saying.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, "I'm The Doctor."

"Unbelievable!"

"Doctor, calm down—"

"How is this possible?"

"Doctor—"

"They've broadcasted my life! My whole life! Anyone can just pick up the remote, turn on the telly and just watch my entire life!"

"They think it's just a fictional show," Sierra said. "just like I did."

"Doesn't matter what they think, what matters is the truth, and this—" he pointed to the small flat screen on Sierra's wall, "—this is—this is—this is wrong!"

"Doctor, nobody thinks this is real—this is a show, written by people and directed by people—nobody knows it's real."

"You know it's real," The Doctor said, almost accusingly. "Are you going to tell everyone? Are you going to let everyone know that the alien man with the blue police box is real?"

"Of course not," Sierra said, and reassuringly added, "even if I did, nobody would believe me. They'd just think I was a deranged fan."

"You have the portal for proof," he said. "You can just bring anyone you'd like into the alternate world and show them that everything on television is real."

"I would not do that. I would never do that. Do you realize how much chaos that would cause?"

The Doctor didn't speak for a long time. He stood in front of the television, staring at his own face on the screen—but it wasn't his face, not really. It was an actor, who looked exactly like him. He dressed like him, he spoke like him, he behaved like him, yet it was not him. He was beginning to understand the confusion Sierra felt upon her discovery. He knew there were multiple time streams, and to some extent, he knew about parallel universes, but he'd never thought he'd be affected by one.

"I just," he said, pausing to think. "this is incredible. This show, Doctor Who—what a creative title—documents my life. Yet, they have no idea it's all real."

Sierra wasn't sure if he was speaking to himself or actually starting a conversation with her. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead," The Doctor said absently.

"If…if you're real, and—and if Sherlock is real—what other characters are?"

The Doctor turned around to face her. "I have no idea. Until this moment, I believed everyone I knew was real, so that is a difficult question to answer."

"Well, let me ask something else—how do you know Sherlock?"

The Doctor exhaled. "In this alternate universe that you've stumbled upon, it's modern day for me. I do a lot of time traveling—"

"I know," Sierra said. "Sorry, it's just that my best friend loves the show."

He was taken aback a bit, but seemed to shrug it off. "Yes, very well then—so you must know that—through this show—I don't spend much time in one place?"

Sierra nodded.

"Right, well—when I do stay in one spot, it's usually to give the TARDIS a break, because she needs a rest every once in a while too, and—ah, here's the fun bit. Take a guess where I stay."

Sierra didn't understand what he meant, and she shook her head in confusion.

The Doctor seemed awfully happy to announce his area of residence to her.

"Baker Street."

A/N: Thanks so much for reading. Reviews are very much appreciated :-)