Chapter 6

John and the Doctor's conversation seemed to be going quite smoothly. It had moved from the subject of profession, through current affairs – about which the Doctor seemed slightly confused – and onto the weather.

Sherlock couldn't stand small talk. Why bother saying something if you haven't got anything to say? Eventually, even the infallible matter of the weather trailed off, leaving a slightly awkward silence. A silence which Sherlock decided to break.

"When were you planning on telling us you're an alien?" John seemed to be puzzled by this statement. The Doctor just smiled.

"You're quicker than I remember, Bonesy." He grinned

"I'm not the only one who's changed."

"What? Oh yes, the face. I do that sometimes. Everyone gets confused."

John seemed to be the confused one in the room.

"Hang on, wait, you don't mean, you're not serious?" John let out a slightly pained laugh.

"Of course I'm serious. When am I not serious?" Sherlock said.

"Oh so you mean alien as in foreign." Another of those laughs.

"No."

"Then what-"

"I mean alien as in from another planet."

"But aliens don't exist, right? Do they?" John looked around, now a bit paranoid. The Doctor smiled and waved at him.

"Okay. Okay. So… You two have met before?" John was trying to look calm, but failing miserably.

"The Doctor is sort of a childhood friend."

"Right. Do you have a spaceship or something then?"

"Oh yeah." The Doctor replied. "It's downstairs."

"I think I need another cuppa." John stood up and walked to the kitchen, muttering to himself. Sherlock didn't seem like he was going to talk much more, so the Doctor pulled a newspaper out of his pocket.

The headline read 'Murder on Marylebone Street'.

"Did you hear about this?" He asked, gesturing vaguely towards the page.

"Naturally." Sherlock replied. "I'm working on that case."

"Oh?" The Doctor sat up. "Noticed anything unusual?"

"Only that the supposedly dead body came back to life."

The Doctor seemed very interested now.

"And where exactly would this body be kept?"

"Why, are you planning on making a trip?"

"Possibly."

"I doubt they'll let anyone in after what's been going on there."

"That shouldn't be a problem. You want to come?"

They stood up to head downstairs, just as John was walking back to the living room with his fresh cup of tea. When he realised that the other two were leaving, he sighed, put his mug down, and followed them down the stairs. But instead of going out the front door, they went towards the Doctor's flat.

"Door's this way." John pointed out

"We're not going through the door." The Doctor called back to him

"But then how are we getting to-"

"We've got a quicker way just come on." John resigned himself to the fact that he had no idea what was going on, so he just went with it. In the main room of the Doctor's flat, there was a tall, blue, wooden structure.

"Hang on, is that a police box?"

"Sometimes." The Doctor replied, pulling a key out of his pocket. "Actually, all the time now. But that was an accident." He unlocked the door and walked in. His footsteps seemed to echo more than they should have in that small space. Sherlock and John stood there, expecting the Doctor to pop back out with whatever he had gone into there to get. And pop back out he did, but not for the reason John was expecting.

"Come on in then!" He beckoned. Why they should go into the man's weird box he didn't know, so he let Sherlock go first.

"It's different to how I remember." Sherlock's voice echoed – again with the echo – out. John took a nervous step inside; to find something that completely blew his mind.

"It's bigger inside…" His voice was half way between a gasp and a whisper. "There's a whole world in here."

Sherlock seemed less impressed. "I see you've redecorated."

"It's bigger on the inside" John repeated

"Do you like it?" The Doctor asked Sherlock

"…I'm not sure."

"It's bigger. On this inside." John repeated again

"It's definitely… more orange." Sherlock continued.

"IT'S BIGGER ON THE INSIDE"

"The correct term is dimensionally transcendental."

The Doctor bounced over to what seemed to be the control panel, and danced around it pressing buttons and pulling leavers. The column in the middle began moving up and down, as a wheezing, groaning, noise echoed through the room. The floor was shaking. And then… it stopped. The Doctor bounded back to the door, and opened it.

His flat was no longer outside.

They were in the morgue.