Author's Note: Once again, thanks to-

sherlockedbyben

Raineh14

And 2 Guests for reviewing. It means the world to me. I do not own Sherlock.

I stepped out of the car and onto the damp pavement. It was well into the night, and the moon was shrouded by dense gray fog. The Diogenes Club menacingly before me, crisp white exterior glaringly obvious against the backdrop of night. Of Mycroft would think that the Diogenes Club was a perfect place for a chat. The place where talking and acknowledging other people could get you expelled.

Nevertheless, I pushed open the door and shambled quietly to where I knew the arrogant sod would be waiting.

"Ah Doctor Watson, so good of you to make it," Mycroft called from further within his office, sipping at a glass of bourbon.

"Yeah, there is a rather lot of explaining that needs to be done," I urged, taking the seat across from him.

"Would you like a drink?"

"No, I would like an explanation."

"For what I'm explaining, a drink would be beneficial," he handed me a glass with about an inch of amber liquid sloshing around the bottom. I raised an eyebrow, but took the glass.

"Yesterday, you told me that you and Sherlock are aliens, from a different planet, running away from other aliens. Please elaborate upon that answer."

"Do you remember when I said that I trapped Sherlock's consciousness in this watch because he couldn't keep the secret?" Mycroft pulled the watch from his pocket.

"Um, yeah," I agreed, grasping at the slightly vague memory.

"That was a lie, Sherlock was entrapped for a different reason."

"Why then?"

"As you may have gathered, Sherlock and I are not actually brothers, he thinks this, knows this in fact, but it is simply a well-placed lie that would tie him to this planet," he paused to sip from his glass, "Sherlock and I were indeed rivals when we were both in our true form, and some of that has bled over into his life as a human."

"Yeah, I understand that, but why did you take away Sherlock's consciousness?"

"Mycroft and Sherlock are not actually our names, we acquired them twenty seven years ago when I brought him to this planet-"

"Twenty seven years!?"

"Timelords do not age the same as humans John, I for one have just celebrated my two-thousandth birthday," he smirked, "Though, since Sherlock was human, I used one of his stolen regenerations to regress him back to being only five years old, thus he is fit and young. All of his memories before that are manufactured."

"What about his parent's, who are they?" I demanded, becoming more and more lost with each passing second.

"They were my, er, companions, at the time," he glanced up at my probably horrified looking place, "What, no no no, it wasn't like that. So I meddled with the DNA records forged a few birth certificates, and voila, my friends are suddenly my parents and my greatest rival their adoptive child."

"You do realize that you sound absolutely, stark raving mad right now," I quipped, and took a sip of bourbon, only to find that the glass was already empty.

"Fully aware, what else would you like to know?"

"What were your real names before Mycroft and Sherlock?"

"A rather sensitive subject, I cannot tell you my real real name as it is a secret, and I do not know Sherlock's. But, our common names were the Doctor and the Master."

"Which is which?" I asked, such common names for such ambiguous creatures.

"I was the Doctor, and Sherlock was the Master."

"Ooh, did you battle in an epic saga across the galaxies?" I snarled, much past the realm of believing whatever Mycroft was saying.

"I just wanted him to quit his shenanigans and join me," the British government sighed, draining his glass.

"Was he the evil one then?" I rolled my eyes.

"You could say that, and the only way to stop him was to trap him in the watch, turned out rather nicely don't you think? You have really helped him turn a corner."

"I do not believe a word you are saying, it's absolutely ludicrous!" I exclaimed, setting my glass down on the table beside my chair.

"Then I will prove it."

Then there was a strange, wheezing noise, and a faded blue box appeared in the corner of the room. One of the doors swung open and out stepped, well, me.

"What the-" the other me breathed in perfect synchrony with my own thoughts. Another Mycroft joined the second me outside of the box.

"Just proving the point," Mycroft 2 stated, "He comes around." The actual Mycroft nodded, and the pair of doppelgangers retreated back inside the box and disappeared as suddenly as it had arrived.

"What was that!?" I half screamed, gesturing wildly at the place where the box had stood.

"You, and me, that bit was rather obvious."

"How were we there, when we're here!?" my head ached with the overload of new information.

"Follow me John, we're off to see the TARDIS." I dashed after the slightly pudgy man as he lead me down a winding hall into an almost empty room. In the center, sitting on the plush maroon carpet was the blue box in all its infuriating glory.

"Is this the TARDIS?" I pointed at it.

"Yes, T-A-R-D-I-S, stands for Time And Relative Dimension In Space," he pulled a key from his pocket, "Not to brag or anything, but it can travel anywhere in time or space."

-oO0Oo-

Sherlock shivered in his dressing gown. Where had John gone? It was one o' clock in the morning and the blogger was always a fan of sleep. The detective was sitting in front of the window watching the street preceding their new flat.

Without John, Sherlock was completely and utterly lost. Sure John had been absent before, but least his destinations were discussed or deduced with ease. This was new, and Sherlock had nothing to on, so he waited in the painfully under furnished flat for his very best friend to return home. His very best friend, and the object of his unrequited affections.

Critiques welcome!