Author's Note: I'm sorry! I know that I promised an update the next day and that was…oh, two weeks ago…but I have a wonderful explanation! You see, isn't time more like a big ball of wibbly wobbly…time-y…wimey…stuff…? No? Alright, I was getting ready to finish the chapter and Microsoft Word crashed seconds before I realized that I didn't save. So I had to completely rewrite the chapter. This chapter is where the 'official' story begins. It is set two years after their primary adventure with the Doctor. So without further ado…Geronimo!

Chapter Four

Sherlock was bored.

And in trouble.

It was remarkable how those two often went hand-in-hand.

He begrudgingly sat in the stiff chair, swinging his legs back and forth and picking at a thread in his shirt.

"Bored," Sherlock whispered.

The temp looked up, surveying him through her spectacles, before barking, "You can enter in just a few minutes. We're still waiting for your brother to come over."

"He doesn't have to come," Sherlock argued, "He didn't do anything wrong."

"And then there's the matter of your father," the temp continued, acting as though he hadn't spoken.

"He doesn't have to come, either," Sherlock muttered, "I didn't do anything wrong."

She didn't answer which prompted him to sigh and glance around the office. He made a point to glare at the poster of the smiling flowers. How highly illogical—flowers didn't smile.

He was only jolted out of his thoughts when he heard the temp say, "Ah, Mycroft."

Mycroft had appeared, looking flustered and annoyed. He politely greeted the temp and forced a wide smile before sitting down next to his brother and hissing, "What did you do?"

"Flowers don't smile."

"What?"

"Flowers don't smile," Sherlock practically whined.

"Of course they don't," Mycroft agreed but still hissed, "What did you do?"

"I punched Anderson," Sherlock muttered, "Why are they smiling? It's irrational. They cannot smile. They don't even have faces."

"You punched Anderson?" Mycroft yelped.

"They're not supposed to be smiling."

"You punched Anderson?" Mycroft repeated.

"Yes," Sherlock said, distractedly, "Even if a flower could show emotions, what are the odds that they would all be happy?"

"Maybe they're forcing a smile to get through the day," Mycroft mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing," Mycroft sighed before once again repeating, "You punched Anderson?"

Sherlock didn't say anything and was merely glaring at the blasted poster on the wall

"I was pulled out of class for this," Mycroft hissed. Mycroft went to the school for upperclassmen, located just across the street. And yet everyday it still seemed as though he had to dash back over to the primary school to get Sherlock out of a sticky situation.

"Sherlock Holmes, are you listening?" Mycroft reprimanded.

"No."

"Sherlock."

"Mycroft," Sherlock taunted.

"Sherlock! Mycroft!"

The two brothers tensed. Their father had arrived, briefcase still in hand, and was looking furious. He stormed into the office and demanded, "Sherlock, what is the meaning of this?"

Sherlock didn't answer and instead lowered his gaze.

"Sherlock Holmes, I am talking to you," Mr. Holmes boomed.

When Sherlock spoke he merely whispered, "Flowers don't smile."

() () () () ()

"This is the fourth incident, this month!"

"Yes, Headmaster Piper," Mycroft spoke when his brother refused to say anything, "I am terribly sorry. I don't know what came over my brother."

Headmaster Piper was as stiff as a poker and couldn't be bothered with such irrational things as happiness and understanding. His patience was as thin as his hair and Sherlock was causing both to rapidly diminish.

"Well, Sherlock?" Mr. Holmes barked, "Do you have anything to say?"

"Anderson is an idiot," Sherlock muttered, staring at a snag in the rug, "You really ought to suspend him, Headmaster. It will bring entire school's intelligence up."

"Sherlock," Mycroft whispered, "Not now."

"You punched Anderson because he wasn't as smart as you?" Piper asked, attempting to get the full story.

"No," Sherlock said, looking slightly annoyed. Wasn't he listening?

"Sherlock Holmes, look at me when I'm talking to you," Headmaster Piper snapped.

"What for?" Sherlock haughtily remarked.

"It is the polite thing to do," Mr. Holmes barked, "I've raised you to know that."

"It's a formality," Sherlock mumbled, "It's useless and degrading. What I have to say does not change depending on where I look."

"Sherlock," Mycroft whispered in what he hoped was a somewhat stern tone, but he already knew that he was losing an ongoing battle. For as long as he could remember, he was one of the only people with whom Sherlock would make eye-contact.

Sherlock raised his head but stared at the wall behind Piper and explained, "I punched Anderson because he was teasing me."

Mycroft sighed, figuring as much. Although he wasn't sure if he wanted to know, he found himself asking, "What did he say?"

Sherlock hesitated and said, "Well…I was examining this."

He pulled something out of his pocket. Mycroft's eyes widened ever so slightly as he recognized the key that resembled the Tardis.

"Anderson kept asking about it," Sherlock explained, "So I told him that it was a present from the Doctor…"

"The Doctor?" Mr. Holmes interrupted, "Sherlock, you are not still going on about that blasted dream of yours? It was two years ago! I would have thought that…"

"It wasn't a dream!"

"Let it go," Mycroft urgently hissed, "Sherlock, please. Not now."

Sherlock still looked angry but he begrudgingly continued, "Anderson told me that the only doctor I should be seeing is a psychiatrist."

For a second, Mycroft felt as though he would rather like to strike Anderson.

"Regardless. Fighting is against school policy," Piper briskly said, "I'm afraid that I have no choice, boy. You are suspended for a month."

Sherlock didn't look the least bit remorseful. He didn't really care for school. The things that he learned in class were things that he had read about, years ago. His classmates were dull and ignorant. Thirty minutes of time that could be spent studying was spent in a gymnasium. He had to memorize people's names instead of learning about them in depth. Not to mention that whenever he tried to complain about this, his classmates would sneer or laugh. Suspension was honestly not that much of a threat. Mycroft didn't seem to agree.

"Suspension?" Mycroft cried, "Headmaster that's completely outrageous!"

"Watch your tone!" Mr. Holmes scolded.

"Sorry," Mycroft said, shamefaced, "C…couldn't he do something else? Please, sir? He could apologize to Anderson and stay after school for two weeks to write lines."

Sherlock glared at him and Mycroft returned it. After all, he was trying to diminish his brother's punishment.

"A month," Piper said, after a moment of thought.

"Absolutely not," Sherlock cried, completely aghast.

"It's just lines," Mycroft assured him, "It's not so bad."

"I'm not apologizing," Sherlock firmly remarked.

"You're joking," Mycroft whispered, "Sherlock, you don't even have to mean it! Just say the words and you don't have to be suspended."

"I'm not apologizing."

"Then I have no choice," Piper snapped, "Sherlock Holmes, I'm sorry but I'm going to have to suspend you."

On the contrary, he didn't look sorry at all.

"No!" Mycroft howled, "You can't do that!"

"I told you to watch your tone," Mr. Holmes growled.

"This is completely ludicrous," Mycroft angrily scoffed, crossing his arms.

"Would you like to join him?" Piper snapped, "I'm sure that I can call Headmaster Dibble and make the arrangements."

"That's not fair!" Sherlock burst out and Mycroft nearly felt touched. The warm feeling quickly subsided as Sherlock continued, "Just because you and your wife are fighting, that doesn't mean that you have to make everyone else miserable."

Piper looked outraged, "Well I've never! Who told you…?"

"Nobody," Sherlock replied with a smug smile.

"You're seven-years old!" Piper hissed, slamming his hand on the desk, "You couldn't have possibly figured that out!"

Sherlock glared at him for a moment before quietly saying, "You really oughtn't to encourage eye-contact, Headmaster. As soon as I looked at you, I noticed that they're bloodshot which indicates that you have recently been upset. The dark circles beneath the eyes and the large mug of coffee on the desk shows that you didn't get to sleep last night."

Piper spluttered and Sherlock continued, "Also, you aren't wearing your wedding band."

"Sherlock," Mycroft groaned and buried his face in his hands, "Don't push it."

"Oh don't pretend that you didn't notice," Sherlock snapped.

Mycroft opened his mouth but couldn't deny it. Unlike his brother, however, he wasn't going to point it out. Sherlock gave him a small smile, happy to know that he wasn't alone.

"If we could please get back to your suspensions," Piper huffed, mopping his brow with his handkerchief.

"Outrageous," Mr. Holmes muttered.

Sherlock and Mycroft glanced at each other, surprised. Perhaps their father would actually come through for them. Instead, Mr. Holmes merely mumbled to himself, "Both boys suspended! What will I say at the office?"

"This is…" Mycroft refrained himself from swearing and rephrased, "Sir, please. I didn't do anything wrong. I have perfect attendance and a nearly perfect record."

Piper sighed and looked slightly remorseful as he said, "Mycroft, you were one of my best students. I would honestly hate to punish you. However, you have to watch that tongue of yours. It's not nearly as bad as your brothers but it can still be sour. But…I suppose that you are right. There is no need to punish you."

"Thank you," Mycroft said, though he couldn't hide his surprised look.

Piper gave him a twisted smile and said, "Now that that's settled, perhaps it would be best if you waited outside."

Mycroft glanced from him to Sherlock and back again before saying, "No."

"Pardon?"

"I'm not leaving him," Mycroft firmly said.

Piper sighed and snapped, "Fine. Sherlock Holmes, I will give you one more chance. I shan't suspend you, if you can muster up enough decency to apologize to me for your earlier behavior and Anderson for your actions."

"No," Sherlock said, without any hesitation.

"You daft little boy," Piper snapped, ruffling through the proper paperwork to formally suspend him.

Daft. Daft little boy. Daft.

Sherlock's eyes momentarily sparkled with tears and his bottom lip quivered.

Mycroft gave the Headmaster a fiery glare and snapped, "Go to hell."

Well, that did it.

Soon both Piper and Mr. Holmes were bellowing at him for using such disrespectful and inappropriate language. The temp poked her head in and began to scream to see what the screaming was about. They just kept yelling, yelling, YELLING!

The yelling was too much for Sherlock who closed his eyes and covered his ears. When that didn't seem to block out the noise, he felt the key in his hand. He thought of the Tardis. He could practically hear the Tardis.

He could hear Tardis.

Sherlock's eyes flew open. He leapt up and raced over to the window. The action seemed to quiet the room and everyone turned to look at him.

"No way," Sherlock whispered as he caught sight of the brilliant blue police-box, sitting next to the swings on the playground, "Mycroft! It's back!"

Mycroft slowly stood up and joined him. For a moment, he could only stare. Then, as if reassuring himself, he whispered, "It wasn't a dream."

"Get back to your seats!" Piper roared.

Mycroft flinched and headed back towards his seat but Sherlock spun around and headed straight towards the door. Piper firmly shut it and angrily remarked, "You're not going anywhere until we…what the blazes do you think you're doing?"

In a matter of seconds Sherlock had raced back across the room, had flung open the window, and was now standing on the rickety fire-escape.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft cried, horrified, "Get back in here!"

"Mycroft," Sherlock said, "It's the Doctor."

He said it as though it excused everything else and in a way it did. Mycroft hesitated for a split second before crawling through the window.

"Mycroft Holmes!" Mr. Holmes shouted, "Get back in here! Now!"

"Go!" Mycroft urged, gently pushing his brother.

The fire-escape creaked and groaned under their weight—even more so when Piper and Mr. Holmes climbed after them. The two brothers quickly descended the wrought-iron stairs, careful to not lose their footing. Unfortunately, the stairs simply seemed to stop several meters from the ground. Mr. Holmes and Piper were drawing closer to them.

"Geronimo," Mycroft whispered and jumped. His knees buckled as he landed but he still managed to steady himself and turned around to catch Sherlock. He pelted across the garden and his brother tightened his arms around his neck, nearly choking him. Unfortunately, they weren't the only ones who had spotted the police box.

Several students were gawking and pointing, coming over for a closer look.

"Get away from her!" Sherlock cried.

"Her?" Anderson stepped forward from the group, his eye blackened and his mouth pulled into a sneer, "You ought to work on your pronouns, Holmes."

"Nice eye, Anderson," Mycroft muttered, "Now step aside or I'll make you."

"You can't do that!" Anderson gasped.

"I'm already suspended," Mycroft threatened, "Try me."

"Blimey Mycroft," Sherlock whispered, looking very impressed, "Telling Piper to go to hell. Threatening Anderson…"

"Oh hush," Mycroft whispered, hoping that Anderson didn't see through his bluff. He surprisingly stepped aside but not before giving the brothers sour looks. Sherlock leapt down from Mycroft's arms and gently placed the key into the keyhole.

There was a click and the door swung open. The Doctor stood just beyond it with a wide smile spreading across his face as he excitedly cried, "Miss me?"

"Doctor!"

The Time Lord happily pulled them both brothers into a tight hug. Mycroft and Sherlock warmly returned it.

"Will somebody please explain what's going on?" Piper screamed as he and Mr. Holmes finally caught up with them.

The Doctor straightened up and said, "Ah. Yes. Hello. I'm the Doctor."

"Preposterous," Mr. Holmes barked.

"No, the Doctor," the Doctor corrected.

"He's real," Sherlock firmly said, "He's real! I told you."

"Of course I'm real," the Doctor said, looking surprised, "Who said that I wasn't?"

"Father," Sherlock and Mycroft both chorused. The Doctor no longer looked surprised.

"You would have me believe that this is the man from your ridiculous stories?" Mr. Holmes skeptically scoffed, "Nonsense!"

"Calm yourself, Mister Holmes," Piper adjusted his stiff tie and said, "So, you're a doctor? Are you here to observe the students?"

"Err…sure," the Doctor replied with a shrug.

"Well," Piper tried to look important as he coldly said, "You don't want to bother yourself with these two students."

"Oh, I just might," the Doctor said with a tilt of the head and a smile.

"Trust me," Piper assured him, "In fact, they shouldn't even be counted as students. They were just suspended."

"Suspended?" the Doctor yelped, shocked, "For what?"

"I told him to go to hell," Mycroft guiltily admitted.

The Doctor relaxed and softly said, "Oh! I've been there. I wouldn't recommend it."

Mycroft still looked guilty and the Doctor gently smiled and bracingly said, "Hey, cheer up. Listen to me. Suspension isn't the end of the world."

"Yeah," Mycroft bitterly sighed, "How would you know?"

"I'm the Doctor! Believe me; I should know what constitutes as the end of the world and it isn't suspension!"

Mycroft chuckled at this, feeling considerably better.

"Excuse me?" Mr. Holmes thundered, "Who the ruddy hell do you think you are to dismiss my son's punishment?"

The Doctor merely stared at him for a moment before quietly saying, "I think that I'm the ruddy Doctor."

Piper cleared his throat and said, "Now…ah….Doctor, if you want to see one of my prized students, might I recommend young Anderson?"

"What happened to your eye?" the Doctor asked, bending down to observe the boy.

"I punched it," Sherlock muttered.

The Doctor's mouth twitched and he straightened up, "Might I ask?"

"He didn't believe in you either," Sherlock muttered.

The Doctor softened but his reply was drowned out as Anderson spoke up, "Like I said before, the only special doctor that these two should be seeing is a bloody shrink!"

"Oh, you're a nasty little brat aren't you?"

Sherlock and Mycroft both laughed at the Doctor's mumbled remark.

"Nice deduction, Doctor," Sherlock praised.

"That's enough," Mr. Holmes snapped, "There's no such thing as the Doctor."

"He's standing right in front of you!" Sherlock cried, "How can you deny that he exists?"

The Doctor grimaced and quietly said, "Oh you'd be surprised at how many people reject what's right in front of them."

"Preposterous!" Mr. Holmes shouted, "Sherlock, Mycroft…I insist that you forget about this ludicrous…poppycock…get to the car. Now! I don't have time for…Sherlock Holmes, look me in the eye when I am talking to you!"

Sherlock cringed and the Doctor put a hand on his shoulder. For the first time since the brothers had known him, the Doctor looked angry. At first, the boys were terrified with the thought that he was angry at them. He then stepped forward and towered over their father, coldly saying, "You want to look somebody in the eye? Fine. Look at me. Look at my eyes. They're old. Older than you can possible imagine. Twelve-hundred years old and they've seen many things because they aren't human. They're Time Lord. I'm not human. I am a Time Lord. I am the Doctor and I don't appreciate parents who yell at their children."

Mycroft and Sherlock could only stare in awe and admiration. Mr. Holmes with shaking with anger. Through clenched teeth he whispered, "Sherlock…Mycroft…car…now."

"No," Sherlock boldly said, "I don't want to go with you! I want to go with the Doctor."

"Can we?" Mycroft added, hopefully, "Can we go with you?"

"Of course you can," the Doctor replied, as if Mycroft even had to ask, "I'm certainly not leaving you here."

Mycroft and Sherlock glanced at one another and sadly realized that there was nothing for them here. They were suspended from school. They didn't really have any friends or anyone else who might miss them. Their father was heartless and Mycroft didn't want to imagine the punishment that they might receive when they got home. Their father certainly wasn't abusive but he wasn't above an occasional spanking or a night in the bedroom without dinner. He would also yell and without the Doctor to stop him, there would be a lot of yelling. Quite frankly, the two were sick of the yelling.

And yet with the Doctor…they could travel across the universe. They could go anywhere in time in the Tardis. And they would be with the Doctor!

Mr. Holmes was yelling again but the brothers had tuned him out. They excitedly turned to the Doctor who laughed at their excitement and cried, "Geronimo!"

Mr. Holmes angrily started forward but the Doctor suddenly withdrew the Sonic Screwdriver and clicked it. Mr. Holmes' briefcase suddenly sprang open and his papers went flying. He cried out and tried to catch them, giving the three the chance to duck into the Tardis.

Mycroft locked the door for good measure and Sherlock pocketed his key but not before asking, "Why did you leave the key if you were just going to be on the other side of the door?"

"I had to make sure that you wanted to come in," the Doctor explained with a smile.

"Of course we did," Sherlock firmly answered.

Mycroft nodded in agreement and the Doctor grinned before roaring, "Geronimo!"

The two brothers laughed and repeated, "Geronimo!"