Until the End of Time

by marauders4evr

Sherlock Holmes has always been brilliant. He knew that he was the smartest child in London. He knew that the other children thought of him as daft. He knew that the funny man with the bowtie really was daft. He knew that the safest place in the universe was in his brother's arms. He knew that no matter where they went, Mycroft would be there to protect him. Until the end of time.

7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Sherlock's breakfast was crawling away from him. He nudged it with a fork and it scurried back onto its plate.

"Err…Doctor," Mycroft said, as he watched his own breakfast leap from the table, "I normally enjoy a wide variety of food but…"

The Doctor laughed and teasingly replied, "You said that you wanted to eat something alien. The Tardis complied."

"I didn't mean that I wanted to eat an alien!" Mycroft cried.

The Time Lord merely grinned and said, "Fine. What do you two eat for breakfast?"

"Toast and porridge," Mycroft declared.

Next to him, Sherlock groaned and said, "We've eaten toast and porridge for years!"

"It's nutritious," Mycroft patiently said.

"It's boring!" Sherlock cried, "You're on the other side of the universe! You don't have to keep following your diet."

Mycroft raised his eyebrow and smugly said, "Fine. Can we have cake?"

"Great idea," the Doctor exclaimed, "Let them eat cake."

A small box on the console buzzed and a large cake appeared.

"Nice," Mycroft complimented.

The three excitedly dug in, while their previous breakfasts scurried away.

The Doctor swallowed a mouthful of frosting and asked, "So, how'd you sleep?"

"Better than I have in years," Mycroft admitted.

After the Doctor had shown them the bathroom and wardrobe, the two brothers had crawled into their beds—the comfiest beds that they've had ever been in. The Doctor had been nice enough to tuck Sherlock in, had asked if Mycroft needed anything, had promised that he would be in the main console room if they needed anything, and had gently said goodnight before leaving them to stare at the stars.

"He tucked me in," Sherlock had said.

Mycroft was usually the one who tucked Sherlock in at home. Their mother always used to—she would tuck the both of them in—but their father was less than understanding.

"The position of your blankets shouldn't matter when you're sleeping," Mr. Holmes had coldly said.

Unfortunately, the next day Mr. Holmes had been displeased when he had asked Sherlock to make his bed and Sherlock had commented that the position of his blankets shouldn't matter in the daytime.

Mycroft now glanced down at Sherlock and was amused to see that his brother wasn't paying attention. Instead, Sherlock was deeply thinking. His hands were folded, resting just beneath his chin, and his eyes were glazed over.

Mycroft grinned and said, "One."

"One," Sherlock absentmindedly said.

"Two," Mycroft replied.

"Three."

"Five," Mycroft prodded.

"Eight."

"Thirteen."

"Twenty-one."

By now, Sherlock had focused and was smiling. The two glanced over at the Doctor who was carefully observing them. He looked thoughtful for a moment before saying, "Thirty-four."

Their smiles widened and Sherlock replied, "Fifty-five."

"Eighty-nine," Mycroft answered.

"144," the Doctor added.

"233."

"377."

"610."

It wasn't much. Just numbers. At first glance, they might have even seemed random. But to the three of them, it was a conversation; a powerful one at that.

"Can we take a tour of the Tardis later?" Sherlock eagerly asked.

"Sure," the Doctor agreed, "But right now, we have business to attend to. I received a call earlier this morning. Ready to go?"

They eagerly nodded and the Doctor pushed aside the cake to tinker with the buttons.

"Where are we?" Sherlock eagerly asked, once the shaking had stopped.

"Earth," the Doctor explained, "Year 4962."

"Three thousand years into the future?" Mycroft gaped.

"Give or take a few," the Doctor replied.

"Why are we here?" Sherlock asked, "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," the Doctor admitted, "Shall we?"

The three ventured out, eagerly and cautiously looking around. Sherlock and Mycroft were disappointed to see that they weren't in some futuristic utopia. Instead, they were standing on an average-looking countryside. Nothing seemed different.

"Over here, Doctor!"

A sharply-dressed man was walking towards them. He shook the Doctor's hand and quietly said, "My name's Quipp. Thanks for coming."

"You're welcome," the Doctor quietly said, "What seems to be the problem?"

Quipp led them down a gravely path to a small white building. The Doctor and the two brothers looked around, eagerly taking in everything.

"We had to move it out to the countryside," Quipp was saying, "It was causing too much trouble."

"What was?"

"Come through here," Quipp demanded, opening a heavy door. They entered and found themselves in a cramped room. Men and women in labcoats bustled about. Another metal door sat to their left. A large sign overtop read: DANGER. ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK.

"It started a few years ago," Quipp quietly explained, "There was an idea to create the world's smartest computer. And it worked. Only now it's too smart. It believes itself to be the smartest thing in the universe."

"So it's a computer with high self-esteem issues," Sherlock clarified, "How is that bad?"

"It's powerful," Quipp continued, "It's extremely powerful. It has the ability to hack into any other machinery."

"Why not just shut it down?" Mycroft asked.

A lab technician spoke up, "The only way to shut it down is to outsmart it."

"Well," the Doctor slyly said, "I'm sure that's not the only way!"

"Here's the thing," Quipp slowly said, "We built in disintegrators to keep people from stealing it. Only…"

The Doctor sighed, realizing what he was trying to say, "Since it can hack into any machinery…"

"It can control the disintegrators," Quipp finished, "Precisely."

"So it shoots anyone who enters the room?" Mycroft asked.

"It's a bit more complicated than that," Quipp sighed, "Recently there have been competitions."

The Doctor's frown deepened and Quipp continued, "People are looking to do anything to try and shut it down. They're coming from all across the world to try and outsmart it. It allows one person in at a time. The point is to try and overload the machine. To prove it wrong."

Another lab technician gravely said, "Only nobody's been able to. It's a suicide mission."

"Some have lasted longer than others," Quipp sighed, "But they are all disintegrated in the end."

The Doctor suddenly looked tired as he thoughtfully said, "It's the old question: The human mind verses the machine."

"In this case," Quipp sadly said, "The machine is superior."

"No," Sherlock softly remarked, "No. That's wrong. A machine can never be superior to a human."

The Doctor smiled and gently said, "It's not that easy, Sherlock. There are many advanced machines out there. And unfortunately some of them are smarter."

"It's a machine," Sherlock argued, "It can't be smarter. It can't know everything."

"Neither can a human," Mycroft testily said. He didn't like the glint in his brother's eye.

"I could talk to it," Sherlock muttered.

"No!"

Sherlock frowned at the Doctor and Mycroft's simultaneous shout. The Doctor knelt down and softly explained, "Sherlock Holmes, you are brilliant for your age. But I am not letting you risk your life out of pure stubbornness."

"Look at this logically," Mycroft huffed, before his brother could argue, "You're brilliant in the sense of the human mind. But that thing has the knowledge of the entire universe."

"The human mind will always be smarter than a machine!" Sherlock angrily cried, "It was always be smarter! I will always be smarter!"

The Doctor squeezed Sherlock's arm and said, "Come on. Let's…"

Sherlock didn't listen. Instead, he abruptly raced past the Doctor and Mycroft.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?" Mycroft screamed.

The Doctor lunged after him, shouting, "Sherlock, NO!"

The lab assistants tried to grab him but he shot past them, wrenched open the door, entered the room, and firmly closed it.

"SHERLOCK!"

"SHERLOCK!"

Mycroft turned to Quipp and frantically ordered, "Get him out of there! Please!"

A lab technician shrieked, "We can't! The door remains locked until one of them outsmarts the other!"

The Doctor pulled out his Sonic but Quipp immediately cried, "No! The machine is programmed to override overrides. It will automatically ignite the disintegrators."

"Alright," Mycroft anxiously said, "Alright…Let's get into the Tardis and rematerialize into the room."

"Only one member is allowed," Quipp apologized, "I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry."

Mycroft's heart thundered even faster as he whispered, "But he can't…he can't…"

The Doctor was hiding his face in his hands, desperately trying to think.

"What do we do?" Mycroft asked, "What do we do?"

"We need to trust Sherlock," the Doctor finally said, straightening up, "We need to believe that Sherlock knows what he's doing. We need to believe in Sherlock Holmes."

"This way to the observation deck," Quipp softly said. He led the two into a room with a glass window that overlooked the room. Sherlock glanced up at them and smiled. Unlike his brother and the Doctor, Sherlock was not afraid. He was determined. He glanced up at the computer which was an entire wall of machinery and wires.

"State your name."

The voice was metallic and cold.

"Don't you know that?" Sherlock haughtily asked, "I thought that you knew everything."

"It's for the records, Mister Holmes."

Sherlock held his head high and quietly said, "My name is Sherlock Timothy Carlton Holmes. I am seven years old. From London."

"Am I supposed to be impressed?"

"You should be," Sherlock remarked.

"Well then, Mister Holmes…tell me something that I don't know."

"I know that the man standing next to my brother is not human," Sherlock coyly said.

"Naturally. He is a Time Lord known as the Doctor."

"Very good," Sherlock praised, "But facts are easy. How about riddles?"

"Very well. See if you can solve this one, Mister Holmes. Poor people have it. Rich people need it. If you eat it, you will die."

"Nothing," Sherlock immediately said, "Obviously."

From up above, the Doctor and Mycroft sighed with relief.

"Well done. Your turn."

Sherlock thought for a minute before quietly saying, "I am the beginning of the end, and the end of time and space. I am essential to creation, and I surround every place. What am I?

"The Letter 'E'. My turn. What always runs but never walks, often murmurs, never talks, has a bed but never sleeps, has a mouth but never eats?"

Sherlock closed his eyes, his mind racing. After several tense minutes, he looked up and smartly said, "A river."

Mycroft grinned and the Doctor softly cheered.

"Correct. Your turn."

"Until I am measured, I am not known," Sherlock recited, "Yet how you miss me when I have flown."

"Time."

The riddles and facts continued. An entire hour passed, each minute more stressful than the last. The Doctor and Mycroft anxiously paced the Observation Deck. Sherlock knew that they were worried. He was beginning to join them. This had the probability of not ending well.

"Your turn."

Sherlock rubbed his temple before muttering, "1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144, 233, 377, 610…"

His voice escalated with each number. Before he could continue, however, the machine piped up, "987, 1597, 2584, 4181, 6765, 10946, 17711, 28657, 46368, 75025, 121393, 196418, 317811…the list is continuous so long as you apply the formula Fn = Fn-1 + Fn-2."

Mycroft sighed with frustration and the Doctor put a hand on his shoulder.

"Correct," Sherlock coolly said, "Though that's hardly impressive."

"I know every formula across the galaxy."

"I can still outsmart you," Sherlock replied, "That isn't the only formula that I know. I also know that the mass-energy equivalence is e=mc2. I know that pi is equal to 3.14."

"You daft boy! Pi is not equal to 3.14. Rather, it is equal to 3.141592653589793238462643383279502884197169399375 105820974944592307816406286 20899862803482534211706798214808651328230664709384 4609550582231725359408128481 11745028410270193852110555964462294895493038196442 8810975665933446128475648233 78678316527120190914564856692346034861045432664821 3393607260249141273724587006 60631558817488152092096282925409171536436789259036 0011330530548820466521384146 95194151160943305727036575959195309218611738193261 1793105118548074462379962749 56735188575272489122793818301194912983367336244065 6643086021394946395224737190 70217986094370277053921717629317675238467481846766 9405132000568127145263560827 78577134275778960917363717872146844090122495343014 6549585371050792279689258923 54201995611212902196086403441815981362977477130996 0518707211349999998372978049 95105973173281609631859502445945534690830264252230 8253344685035261931188171010 00313783875288658753320838142061717766914730359825 3490428755468731159562863882 35378759375195778185778053217122680661300192787661 1195909216420198938095257201 06548586327886593615338182796823030195203530185296 8995773622599413891249721775 28347913151557485724245415069595082953311686172785 5889075098381754637464939319 25506040092770167113900984882401285836160356370766 0104710181942955596198946767 83744944825537977472684710404753464620804668425906 9491293313677028989152104752 16205696602405803815019351125338243003558764024749 6473263914199272604269922796 78235478163600934172164121992458631503028618297455 5706749838505494588586926995 69092721079750930295532116534498720275596023648066 5499119881834797753566369807 42654252786255181841757467289097777279380008164706 0016145249192173217214772350 14144197356854816136115735255213347574184946843852 3323907394143334547762416862 51898356948556209921922218427255025425688767179049 4601653466804988627232791786 08578438382796797668145410095388378636095068006422 51252051173929848960841…"

An alarm began to sound. Red lights flashed

Quite suddenly, a wall of heat slammed into Sherlock. He crumpled to the ground in a mixture of pain and exhaustion. He covered his ears to block out the sound of gnashing metal and shattering glass. Mycroft screamed his name but Sherlock was far from afraid. After all, he had done it. He had outsmarted the machine.

He blinked up at Mycroft and the Doctor as they climbed through the broken window.

"Sherlock," Mycroft hesitantly asked, "Are you alright?"

Sherlock was too exhausted to answer. Mycroft put his arms around him and he smiled.

Sherlock's head was pounding. His entire body was riddled with pain. But it was worth it.

He knew that it was safe to close his eyes for a moment. Just a moment…

Sherlock woke up several hours later. He was relieved to see that Mycroft and the Doctor were sitting next to his bedside; the former sound asleep. The Doctor caught his eye and smiled before gently shaking Mycroft awake.

"Are you alright?" Mycroft immediately asked.

Sherlock nodded before glancing at the Doctor and softly saying, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone in there."

"No shit, Sherlock," Mycroft muttered.

"Mycroft," the Doctor gently chastised, "Language."

"For someone who claims to be brilliant, you sure made an idiotic move," Mycroft continued, after apologizing to the Doctor.

"It was pretty risky, Sherlock," the Doctor admitted.

"I know," Sherlock muttered, "I'm sorry."

He was suddenly overcome with a terrifying thought and asked, "You're not mad, are you? I mean…we can still be your companions…?"

The Doctor softened—he practically melted—and gently said, "Of course you can. If you still want to. But I think that we need to set a few rules."

Sherlock frowned and the Time Lord laughed before saying, "Just a few. Rule One: I lie."

"What?" Mycroft asked.

"River says that's Rule One," the Doctor shrugged, "The Doctor lies. Sometimes there are things that I cannot tell you. Not only for the universe's sake, but for your sake."

"River?" Sherlock repeated, exchanging glances with Mycroft. The Doctor was talking to bodies of water now?

"Rule Two," the Doctor continued, "Bowties are and will always be cool."

Sherlock and Mycroft laughed at that but agreed.

"Rule Three," the Doctor said, "I need you to listen to me. I need you to trust me. I need you to run when I say run, to hide when I say hide, to not go into rooms with highly-advanced computers when I say not to."

Sherlock ducked his head, shamefaced. The Doctor's eyes twinkled and he said, "Rule Four: No dating."

Sherlock snorted, "I'll try to resist."

He grinned but solemnly said, "Trust me, it only leads to trouble. Speaking of, that brings us to Rule Six: No tall buildings."

He broke off and suddenly gave Sherlock a peculiar expression.

"What?" Sherlock asked, thoroughly confused, "What is it?"

"Doctor, what's wrong?" Mycroft asked.

"Nothing," the Doctor finally said, "It's just…I suppose that some rules can be broken if absolutely necessary."

Once again, the two brothers exchanged glances and Sherlock said, "Don't worry. I'm not planning on dating anytime soon."

The Doctor smiled and said, "Good. Now then…Rule Seven: Try not to wander off. I want to make sure that I know where you are. Rule Eight: If possible, try not to destroy the entire universe. Rule Nine: Stay alive. Rule Ten: Have fun."

The brothers nodded and agreed.

"I'm sorry that I went into the room," Sherlock sadly repeated.

"Apology accepted," the Doctor kindly said, "And it's a good thing that you did. You did it, Sherlock. You took down the machine."

"It was impressive," Mycroft agreed, "Even if it nearly gave me a heart-attack."

"We'll let you rest," the Doctor said, "You're going to be fine."

"I know," Sherlock yawned.

A small smile spread across his face and the Doctor returned it, gently saying, "You were brilliant. You were absolutely brilliant."

Sherlock's smile widened. He closed his eyes and proudly repeated, "I know."