Author's Note: Sorry about the delay! I was on vacation.
Chapter Five
"You broke our vase!"
"In my defence, it was a rather horrible vase."
Mycroft rolled his eyes but couldn't disagree.
The Doctor had managed to squeeze the Tardis into the cramped parlor but there were several casualties. One of which was a particularly stingy vase given as a Christmas present from a particularly stingy aunt. Sherlock snorted as the Time Lord brushed the shards beneath the rug but immediately quieted when Mycroft glanced over. He raised an eyebrow at their innocent looks but didn't comment.
"Okay," the Doctor hastily said, "Grab anything that you want to take and make it quick because I think that I'm about to be charged with kidnapping. That hasn't happened in a while."
Sherlock immediately bounded off to the nursery to look for things to grab but Mycroft couldn't think of anything to take. He really didn't have much. There was nothing in his bedroom but a bed, desk, and wardrobe. The Doctor assured him that all three things were on the Tardis. Mycroft couldn't help but to notice the disgusted look that passed the Doctor's face as he looked around the bedroom. Well, Mycroft was disgusted with it as well. He supposed that prisoners had cells that were more colorful. It was certainly a spacious room and the furniture was from the very best stores. But it was as dull as Headmaster Piper's voice. Mycroft finally thought of something that he wanted to take. He pulled his mattress aside to reveal a single record beneath.
The Beatles. He carefully picked it up and felt a small rush of admiration.
"What's that?"
Mycroft jumped and the record slipped from his fingers. The Doctor quickly apologized and skillfully caught it.
"Thanks," Mycroft sighed with relief, "It was our mum's favorite band."
The Doctor softened and brightly said, "Would you want to see a concert?"
"I would love to," Mycroft exclaimed, "But haven't they broken up?"
The Doctor stared at him for a moment before saying, "Time Lord. Tardis."
"Right," Mycroft sheepishly said, "Sorry."
The two went back into the parlor and saw that Sherlock was eagerly bouncing on his heels, his possessions piled in his arms.
"Did you grab the toothbrushes?" Mycroft asked.
"Yes."
"Sherlock."
Sherlock guiltily hung his head.
"I have some," the Doctor said, reassuringly, "But I have to ask…what are those?"
He glanced at the assortment of toys in Sherlock's arms. A few action figures, several puzzles, a yoyo, marbles, the typically mundane toys that one might expect to find in the waiting room of a dentist office. The only thing that made Mycroft smile was the wooden sword.
"They're my toys," Sherlock explained.
"No," the Doctor flatly said, "You're not bringing those onto the Tardis."
Both brothers exchanged surprised looks.
"Except the wooden sword," the Doctor added, "Wooden swords are cool."
"I can't bring my toys?" Sherlock asked, looking slightly deflated.
"Toys," the Doctor scoffed, "No…no, you're not bringing those."
"Why not?" Mycroft asked, defensively, "Why can't he bring them?"
The Doctor looked at him as if he had sprouted a second head, "Well, just look at them!"
Sherlock surprisingly complied. After all, he supposed that traveling in the Tardis with the Doctor was worth leaving behind a few toys. He dropped the pile in the doorway of the nursery and quickly ran back to the others.
"Now," the Doctor quietly said, "Are you two sure that you want to go with me? It could be dangerous."
Mycroft chuckled as Sherlock's eyes lit up with excitement and he answered for the both of them, "We're sure."
The Doctor smiled and opened the door, ushering the two brothers inside.
"Right," the Doctor cried, "I have a few ideas and I'm open to suggestions but there is one place that we need to go first and foremost."
He shut the door and raced over to the console. Sherlock and Mycroft eagerly held on as the box began to tremble and hum. When it finally ceased to shake, the Doctor nodded for Sherlock to reopen the door. The two brothers blinked as their eyes adjusted to the light. When their destination finally came into focus, both brothers' jaws crashed to the floor.
"Oh wow…" Sherlock whispered, "No way…"
"Blimey," Mycroft managed to splutter.
The Tardis had landed in a large store. Large was a bit of an understatement. Mycroft had to crane his neck to see the ceiling. Stairs and elevators led up to different platforms. Shelves stretched for miles. And it was quite clear what the main inventory of the store was:
Toys.
Millions of toys. Billions.
"The largest toy-store in the universe," the Doctor proudly explained, "A much better selection than a few puzzles and marbles, don't you think?"
"You're joking?" Sherlock whispered.
The Doctor merely laughed and raced past them, "Come on!"
The two excitedly followed and Mycroft grabbed Sherlock's hand to keep him from wandering off. The three raced down aisles, gawking at the amazing toys. Mycroft promptly decided that children on Earth were at an extreme disadvantage. Mycroft and Sherlock had never really had a lot of toys for obvious reasons—their father being the main one—but the three played with toys that could have made other children's heads spin. The Doctor climbed onto a pogo-stick that bounced across the air. Mycroft and Sherlock followed him in a life-sized model-train. They had every single toy that the brothers could imagine and thousands more. Toys that flew, toys that swam, toys that walked, toys that talked, toys for boys, toys for girls, toys for androgynous children, toys for aliens and humans alike…everything from trading cards that projected holograms of the player to a roller coaster that zoomed at light-speed. From robots to stuffed animals, from zero-gravity snowboards to bottomless swimming pools, they had everything! And then there were the basics like marbles, sidewalk chalk, and bubbles. Sherlock got quite a surprise when he went to toss some marbles and they ended up exploding. Mycroft was in awe when his chalk-drawings came to life and ran around him. And the Doctor blew bubbles that engulfed the boys and carried them high into the air.
More than once, Sherlock wondered if he was going to have a heart-attack and die before he had a chance to properly travel with the Doctor. Mycroft seemed just as excited, even if he tried to pass off as nonchalant. The Doctor looked like a five-year old as he piled several carts high with an assortment of items. He didn't object to anything that the boys brought over.
Sherlock found a large teddy-bear with a red bowtie on it and eagerly cried, "Look! It looks just like you!"
He commenced to carry it around the store, refusing to let it go.
The day slipped away and soon a shrill voice filled the aisles:
THE STORE WILL BE CLOSING IN FIVE MINUTES. PLEASE PREPARE.
"Aw," Mycroft muttered and Sherlock sadly frowned.
The Doctor merely winked and said, "Don't worry."
He walked over to an employee and pulled out that strange piece of paper from earlier, loudly saying, "We are Toy Inspectors and shall be staying after the store closes."
The employee nodded, looking slightly dazed, and said, "Very well."
"How did you do that?" Sherlock whispered as the Doctor came back over.
"Psychic paper," the Doctor explained, "It shows the person what I want it to. See, I just showed him a Toy Inspector badge."
He showed it to Sherlock who glanced at the Doctor, and confusedly said, "There isn't a badge. There's…nothing."
Mycroft leaned over and confirmed it, "It's completely blank."
"Oh that's brilliant," the Doctor replied with a smile, "That's…brilliant, really."
They watched as the other customers glumly left and the employees followed. Soon they were the only ones in the store.
The lights threatened to go off but the Doctor calmly clicked the Sonic Screwdriver and they stayed on. Mycroft wandered to the Sports Section. He had never been that fond of sports but he was still excited to see the amount of alien-sports that existed. He picked up a strange bat that was nothing more than a handle and force-field. He suddenly felt something hit him in the shoulder. It was a small, spikey, ball and seemed to come from an automatic shooter. Several other balls shot out and hit him.
"Ouch!" Mycroft cried, "Oi, quit it! Sherlock! Shut that off!"
He angrily glanced around, trying to find where his brother was hiding. Meanwhile, the balls increased their pace. Every single one seemed to hit him, no matter how much he ducked or dodged. He eventually put his hands up, shielding himself.
He looked up in time to see the Doctor fly in on a hang-glider and click the Sonic Screwdriver. The machine slowly stopped and Mycroft let out a sigh of relief.
"Are you alright?" the Doctor asked, surveying the small cuts on his hands.
"No," Mycroft huffed, "Sherlock Holmes that was not funny!"
"What wasn't?" Sherlock asked, coming up behind him.
"Turning on the automatic shooter," Mycroft snapped, "I could have gotten hurt."
"I didn't do anything!" Sherlock argued.
"Sherlock, don't lie."
"I'm not!"
"Boys," the Doctor broke their argument by saying, "We may have a problem."
"What?" Mycroft asked, still annoyed.
"Bowling balls."
"What?"
"Bowling balls," the Doctor repeated.
Mycroft and Sherlock turned and groaned. Several bowling balls were rising into the air.
"Are they supposed to do that?" Sherlock nervously asked.
"No!"
The Doctor picked up the force-field bat and swung as the balls zoomed towards them. It managed to knock the balls away long enough for the three to vamoose.
"Doctor, what's going on?" Sherlock anxiously cried.
The Doctor pulled the two around the corner and explained, "It's quite simple. The toys are coming to life."
Author's Note: Cliché plotline, I know. But I just couldn't pass over the opportunity to have the Doctor, Sherlock, and Mycroft be in a giant toy-store.