John had just made himself a mid-morning cup of tea, was just about to have a seat in his chair and open up his newspaper, maybe update his blog when the silence of the room was broken by a mechanical wheezing sound. He paused, setting his tea down on the table and straightening up to turn about the room. The wheezing continued a slight breeze seemingly coming from nowhere picked up and rustled the papers strewn about the floor.

"Sherlock?" He called towards the bedroom, more than a little confused as a large blue box materialized in his living room.

"What the-?" He stepped forward getting cut off as the door swung open dramatically.

"Hello!" A man emerged from the box peering around the room, "Where am I?"

It took a moment before John realized that the man was speaking to him. He answered hesitantly, "London, Baker Street to be precise." He looked around the room, lost, before calling towards the bedroom again, louder than before, "Sherlock?"

The man stepped forward and studied him closer, "Baker Street, not 221B I suppose?"

"Um, yes, actually." John said leaning away, "Sorry but how did you get that thing in here?" He pointed at the box and looked over, now to see a young woman emerging as well.

"So are we just popping into random blokes flats now Doctor? Did you even knock?" She said as she leaned against the blue… thing.

"No…" the man –the doctor- muttered to himself, stepping away from John only to grab his newspaper and peer at it, "Too early." He looked back at John, "Or too late?" He set the paper down leaning closer to the other man, "Definitely too early. Off we pop Clara." He strode back into the box and the woman followed saying something that John didn't catch.

"But- wait," He stepped towards the box as the door banged shut, "Sherlock?!" he called back towards the bedroom again, annoyed. Without another word the wheezing started up again and the papers rustled before the blue box faded away out of the room.

"What the hell?"

"What is it John?" Sherlock emerged from the room still half asleep.

John paused, looking around the room, nothing was out of place, the floor where the box had been looked untouched, still strewn with notes from their last case and his tea still sat on the table untouched. "Nothing," he told Sherlock slowly, "Absolutely nothing, go back to sleep."