A/N: Hello again. I am so sorry for the delay in posting this, but I have been ridiculously busy. Thanks so much to everybody who has read this so far, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please remember to review!
Also, a sphygmomanometer is a device for measuring blood pressure, in case you were wondering what the hell was going on later.
Sherlock Holmes blearily opened his eyes and looked around. He was in a strange room, which looked similar to a medical bay. The main difference was several machines and contraptions sitting around the room that even Sherlock didn't recognise.
His brain was instantly alert, even if his body wasn't. He attempted to stand up, but his legs betrayed him, and he ended up on the floor. He tried to call for help, but his voice wasn't working. Sherlock tried a few more times to stand up, kicking his legs as if attempting breaststroke. Eventually he gave up and settled for remembering where he was, improbable though it was.
A spaceship. A real, living spaceship. An improbable spaceship, in which he had been severely injured, before being miraculously cured by an alien serum.
Sherlock coughed, and found he was able to let out a small groan. He did so, and then concluded that the acoustics on this spaceship must also be highly improbable, when John and Harry came running.
"Sherlock!" John admonished when they fund him on the floor. "Why can't you ever stay in one place?"
"Right," Harry said, helping John to lift Sherlock back onto the bed, "let's lay some guidelines. Rule one: don't wander off."
By now, Sherlock was able to form a croaky sentence. "I thought rule one was that your father lied," he rasped.
"Rule two: don't question rule one," she told him firmly. "And rule three: don't be smart."
"Smart is who I am," he told her. "Smart protects me."
"Not here," John told him. "We're in charge here. We'll protect you. Now, when you're up to it, which will be in about half an hour, we can discuss things in the console room. Until then, you stay here."
Sherlock threw his head back onto the pillow. "Dull," he murmured.
"Tough," John said, and left. Harry smiled sweetly at Sherlock, and shut the door behind her.
Sherlock sighed and turned his gaze upwards. Hanging above his head was a sphygmomanometer, with strange symbols engraved around the dial which Sherlock couldn't read.
Inspecting the device further, he frowned. With an effort, Sherlock reached upwards and took hold of the device, pulling the dial closer towards him. Upon closer inspection, the dial seemed identical to those on Earth, save for the symbols. He guessed that he could work out what each symbol meant, due to its placement upon the sphygmomanometer.
Less than five minutes later, Sherlock had learned the major Gallifreyan numbers from the dial, and was working his way around the room trying to deduce the meanings of more Gallifreyan symbols. After all, it would surely be useful to understand at least some alien language when travelling with aliens.
-o0o-
An age later, Sherlock was able to stand upright without his head swimming. He left the boring medical room and Turned Left, heading for the control room. He arrived in the doorway, and stood there for a few moments, taking in the control room in more detail. He noticed the metal grating on the floor, and the bronze circles of unknown origin stretching up almost to the top of the curved ceiling, where they gave way to orange panels. Sherlock observed the wires hanging from the ceiling and the coral struts, and the general messiness of the console. He also noticed how the room felt almost organic, as if it was a living, breathing, thinking organism confined in a machine.
John and Harry stood leaning on the console. Both turned to look up at him.
"You're up, then," Harry observed with a touch of coldness.
John elbowed her in the side. "Ignore her. How are you feeling?"
"Better, thank you," Sherlock said, walking down towards them. "Where's my coat?"
John nodded towards Harry. She glared at him, then smiled awkwardly at Sherlock. "Um. About that. You weren't particularly attached to the coat, were you?"
"Where is it?" he inquired, his voice dangerously quiet.
She mumbled something, leaning her back against the console.
"What did you say?" he asked sharply, still advancing towards them.
"I dropped it in a black hole," she said quickly. "Slight accident. Well, I say slight…" she stopped, because Sherlock was standing over her, his tall form looming over her short one.
He frowned. "A black hole?"
"Watch it, Sherlock," John began to warn him.
"How did you get close enough to a black hole to drop something into it?" Sherlock asked Harry curiously, ignoring John.
She paused, and raised an eyebrow at him. "I just lost an article of your clothing in deep space, and you're asking about the physics of it?"
Sherlock stepped back and frowned. "Not good?" he asked, directing the question towards John.
John rolled his eyes. "I'll explain later. We should really get down to business, now you're feeling better."
"Yes, but-"
John spoke over Sherlock, cutting him off. "It seems we have several mysteries here," he began. "First, where our father is, and why he is not in his TARDIS. Second, how the hell you exist," he pointed at Sherlock.
"And third, why our father let the TARDIS redecorate itself like this," Harry interjected.
"Yes…wait, no!" John said. "Third, we find out what happened to Conan Doyle's character. Any questions?"
"Yes," Sherlock said pointedly. "How can you be close to a black hole without falling in yourself?"
Harry sighed. "The TARDIS is a huge source of energy, and creates its own gravitational field, amongst other things. Can we get to the matter at hand?"
"Very well," Sherlock said. "First, I suggest that we…"
John held up his hand, looking awkward. "Sherlock. I know you're used to being in charge, but with respect, this is my ship."
"Our ship," Harry reminded him somewhat indignantly.
"Our ship," he corrected himself, then looked at Sherlock expectantly.
Sherlock looked down, considering, then up at the two siblings. "All right," he conceded. "Your ship."
John breathed an invisible sigh of relief at Sherlock's agreement.
"If you don't mind me asking," Sherlock continued, "where are we now?"
John and Harry shared a grin. "May I do the honours?" she asked.
"You may."
Harry led the way to the door grandly, then turned and smiled at Sherlock. "Mr Holmes, I present to you, the Earth!" She flung the door open, perhaps a touch too dramatically.
Sherlock stood next to her and stared out at…nothing. Nothing, and yet everything he knew. In front of him, amidst a sea of black, was the Earth. From this distance, he could see the planet slowly turning in an endless circle. He could see the moon, tiny next to the giant expanse of the Earth, which itself was dwarfed by the massive sun, far in the distance.
John came and stood behind Sherlock. "See?" he said. "The Earth does go around the sun."
Sherlock didn't even acknowledge that John had spoken. He stood silently, arms by his sides, seemingly struck dumb by the unique sight.
Eventually, he spoke. "I suppose this is normal for you two?"
Harry glanced at John. "Well, I suppose so. Yes," she said.
He nodded and turned away. "In the same way I find London normal and boring, the universe is boring and normal for you. That explains a lot about the way John acts."
"How I act?" John frowned. "What do you mean?"
Sherlock looked back outside the TARDIS. "Once, I pointed out the beauty of the stars, when we were outside at night. You seemed to barely acknowledge it, as if it was nothing new. Now, I've hardly met any humans who fail to be amazed by the universe.
"However, when we drive around London, you are always looking out the window, marvelling at the perfectly ordinary sight of people walking around London, going about their daily business. Surely, at your age, with your experience, they would merely be insignificant creatures to you?"
John blinked. "Very perceptive."
Sherlock smiled thinly. "I try."
"But you're wrong," John continued. "People aren't insignificant ants. They're giants. Humans are by far my favourite species. Sure, some of you are just plain bad. But humans…it's hard to describe."
Harry helped him out. "Humans are one of those species who are just so…so determined, to learn more. So many species just sit on their planet until they die out, not caring, just living their own little lives."
"Or else they try to conquer the galaxy," John added.
"Yes," Harry acknowledged. "But when humans leave the planet, it's for no reason but to explore. To learn more about their little solar system, and later on other galaxies. That's why we love humans."
"Should you be telling me this?" Sherlock asked her. "About the future?"
"Let's just say that you're not the first human in this TARDIS."
His ears pricked up. "'This TARDIS'? There are more?"
John sighed. "That's another conversation for another time, Sherlock. We already have three mysteries, remember? Although the last two seem to be linked."
"Where should we start?" Harry asked, and for the first time, it was clear to Sherlock that John really was in charge. Harry deferred to him, and they both expected Sherlock to do the same. It was going to take some getting used to.
John strode to the TARDIS console. Harry closed the TARDIS door and followed him. He fiddled with some buttons and levers on the console. "Well," he said, "we're going to begin by working out what happened to Dad. Then we're going to see Conan Doyle, and get this mess straightened out. But first," he took a breath and looked at Sherlock, who was glancing upwards to the top of the time rotor, "we're going to take Sherlock Holmes home."
Sherlock's head snapped down to stare intensely at John. His blank stare carried a lot of meaning.
John looked away. "It's too dangerous, Sherlock," he said helplessly in answer to the unspoken question.
"I can handle it, John," Sherlock said finally. "I've faced down serial killers, and psychopaths, and mobsters, and bankers. I think I can handle whatever you've got." The words were mocking, scornful, but the tone was not. Instead, Sherlock spoke slowly and quietly, as if unsure that he was correct.
John sighed, leaning against the console. He ran a hand through his hair, and looked up at Sherlock, agitated. "Christ, Sherlock! You've already managed to crack your head open, and you haven't even left the TARDIS. Look, Harry and me, we can handle it. We've been out there for years. Centuries." He jabbed an angry finger towards the door, then lowered it slowly back down to the console.
"But you…" He stopped and took a breath, then continued. "You're human. You die, that's it. No more Sherlock. And the world needs you, Sherlock."
Sherlock stayed silent for what seemed an age. The only sound in the TARDIS was John's breathing.
Eventually, Sherlock said, "Harry and I."
John frowned. He looked down, then up again. "What?"
"You said 'Harry and me, we can handle it'. You should have said 'Harry and I'."
John sighed deeply. "Christ, Sherlock. Just…" He didn't finish.
Harry coughed quietly from where she had been standing off to the side, wisely not making a sound. "He's right, you know."
"I know he's right!" John snapped at her. She blinked, and he sighed. "Sorry. I'm sorry."
"Well, for what it's worth," Harry started, walking forward, "I think he should come. We need someone to keep you in check."
This time John ignored her, staring at Sherlock through the time rotor, the curved glass warping the image. "I can't have your death on my conscience, Sherlock. You have no idea, the horrors that are out there." He jabbed a finger towards the door again.
"How about the other humans?" Sherlock asked, almost bitterly. "Was it too dangerous for them as well? Did they all die?"
"How do you know about the others?" Harry asked curiously. John sighed in defeat and stared down at the console.
"It was relatively simple," Sherlock explained. "There were several clues: the way you presented to me the view, as if you'd done it before; the fact that some of the products in your medical bay are from Earth; and the fact that you appear to be wearing Earth clothing, which I'd imagine wouldn't be that clothes your race would normally wear. Quite a tenuous link, I know, but it turned out to be true."
Harry blinked, then looked at John. "I'm keeping him, even if you're not," she told him.
John threw up his hands in exasperation. "Fine," he told her. "Fine. But he's your responsibility, all right? Anything he does, you're accountable."
She nodded once. "Got it."
Sherlock opened his mouth, but John held up a hand. "And," he said, "We do this by my rules. Okay?"
They both nodded.
"All right." John took a breath and turned to Harry. "What do you know about where Dad is?"
Harry took a deep breath, and began to tell the story. "The TARDIS malfunctioned, or so we thought. We were on the trail of a ship that kept circling Earth, looking as if it might land at any moment. You know how it is, John. Protect Earth at all costs.
"Anyway, suddenly this ship started smoking from behind, and falling towards the Atlantic Ocean. Dad, of course, tried to make the TARDIS materialise onto the ship, so he could help the occupants. Except, when we arrived on the ship, there was no one there. It was deserted. We ran a scan, and there were no living creatures except for us."
John felt a shiver run down his spine. "Then what happened?"
"We went exploring. Dad told me to stay in the control room, but I ignored him," she said this with a small grin and a shrug, as if it was bound to happen. "He went one way, and I went the other, and half an hour later I arrived back at the control room. He was nowhere to be seen.
"I waited for him for a while, then got bored and ran another scan, to find out where he was. Only there was nothing. Only one life form on board, and that was me."
John felt another shiver. "He disappeared?"
Harry nodded grimly. "I searched all around the ship, but couldn't work out where he'd gone or anything. There were no exits, no portals to be found. Nothing. So I carefully landed the ship on the moon somewhere in the 1960s, took the TARDIS, and came and found you. End of story."
All three felt as if the temperature in the TARDIS had suddenly decreased, but a quick glance at the thermostat said otherwise. "That's impossible," John said, for the umpteenth time that day.
"Evidently not impossible," Sherlock argued, "since it happened. It is merely highly improbable."
"That's what the original Sherlock Holmes said," Harry said quietly.
"I am the original Sherlock Holmes," said Sherlock Holmes. "I'm not in a book, that's all. I'm real."
"I think I've lost track of what 'real' is," John muttered, leaning one hand on the console. "Look, this isn't getting us anywhere. We're focusing on Dad. Now, this ship. Species of origin?"
"Ah," Harry said. She bit her lip, her normally happy face taut with nerves. "The ship was a dalek ship."
John's hand slipped off the console, and he stumbled before jerking upright. He tried to speak, but his mouth was as dry as a grave.
He cleared his throat. "Dalek?" he croaked out. "The daleks have Dad?"
Sherlock's eyes flicked between the two. "The daleks are bad news?" he guessed.
John slowly turned his head to look at Sherlock. He looked haggard, as though he had aged decades in only a few moments.
John took a breath and began to speak. "A long time ago, many years ago, our people entered into a war, the largest war in the universe. The Time War. Countless people died, men and woman and children. Everybody. It was terrible. The thing is, the war was time-locked, which meant that nothing could escape. Except Dad managed to get out, along with me and Harry. He left us on a safe planet, then went to stop the war."
Harry took up the story. "He managed to end the war, but at a terrible cost: he killed each and every being, from both sides of the war. He committed genocide, and he's never been the same since. So we're the last of our kind, us three. Or we were, until we found this dalek ship. Apparently we weren't the only survivors."
Sherlock nodded thoughtfully. "So it's true then, that you were a soldier?"
"We're a family of soldiers, us and Dad," Harry said. "Dad hates it. He always felt bad for dragging us into the war. What he never understood was that we would have fought, whether he'd wanted us to or not."
"You and your father? How about your mother? I presume, of course, that you had a mother." As soon as Sherlock asked the question, he regretted saying anything; but it was too late to take it back.
There was a moment of terrible silence ad John and Harry exchanged a long look. "She died," John said eventually. "Dad tried to get to her, we all did, but she was too slow. She was killed by a dalek."
"I'm sorry."
"No, it's all right," he said. "She didn't even know she had been found. She wouldn't have felt any pain. Well, not much." He bit his lip and stared into space for a few moments.
"To be honest, I think that was what made Dad do it," Harry said. "He was so angry, at the daleks for killing her, at the Time Lords for fighting; at everything, really. I think that's why he decided to end it, at the greatest cost."
"The loss of an entire species," Sherlock finished.
"It was supposed to be two species," John reminded him bitterly. "Apparently, the daleks managed to escape, Rassilon only knows how."
"I doubt even he would," Harry muttered.
"If the three of you escaped," Sherlock said thoughtfully, "surely a dalek could have got out as well?"
John and Harry both shook their heads. "Impossible," John said.
"Dad sealed up the breach immediately, then went back to that same instant and ended it," Harry explained. "That's what he told me."
"You said the ship had no occupants. Is it possible one ship was left out of the war, and that was what you found?" Sherlock speculated.
More shaking of heads. "The daleks wouldn't do that, they're too devious," Harry told him.
"They'd rather blow up their own ship than leave it vulnerable," John added.
"These daleks," Sherlock said, "what do they look like?"
John turned to the console and typed something in quickly. A picture came up on the screen of a gold metal machine that somewhat resembled a pepper-pot.
"It doesn't look like much," Harry said, "but that is one of the most terrifying, deadly creatures in the universe."
"Creature?" Sherlock asked. "Is it alive? It looks like a robot."
"That's just the shell, the armour," John said. "Inside is a small, weak creature that relies on being a pepper-pot to survive."
Sherlock nodded in understanding. John turned to Harry. "You parked the ship on the moon?"
"Yup," she confirmed. "First time I've ever had to steer a dalek ship. The controls are surprisingly easy."
"Just because you passed Foreign Vehicles with flying colours…" John said, and Harry laughed.
"You had classes in flying other species' vehicles?" Sherlock guessed.
"We had a lot of classes, too many to talk about now," John said. "We need to go to the moon."
Sherlock mentally added that to the rapidly-growing list of sentences he never thought he would hear John say.