Part 2

The door to the police box opened and a man in a brown suit and red trainers walked out onto the lawn. He tucked his hands in his pockets and surveyed the house. A woman with bright red hair poked her head out of the box and stood in the doorway.

"It's bigger on the inside." Sherlock whispered, blinking quickly as his mind struggled to figure out how it worked. It seemed impossible and yet there it was as plain as day before him. John's brow furrowed and he repeated, 'bigger on the inside' to himself. Somehow it seemed familiar, where had he heard it before? Maybe it was from a television show?

Suddenly, Suzie-balloon smashed down the door.

"We need help, Sherlock Holmes." She insisted.

"Look out, John!" Sherlock said, grabbing a broken chair and sending it through the window. John quickly climbed out the window and dropped onto the roof of the porch below. The trees in the yard were beginning to sway as a strong western wind was blowing a storm into the area. The man and woman from the box ran into the house at the sound of Sherlock's shout and the glass breaking.

Sherlock dropped onto the roof behind him and they picked their way across the shingles, the whole time John was praying that it would hold the both of them.

They reached the end of the roof, a rather long drop in front of them, and Suzie-balloon behind them. But John looked behind them and she was hovering at the broken window.

"Why isn't she following us?" Sherlock asked, pausing for a minute to attempt to deduce her actions.

"Oh, who cares? How do we get down?" John spun around trying to find a way down. All he wanted to do was leave the area and attempt to forget the whole affair.

"Here," Sherlock said, sliding onto a rickety trellis on the side of the house. "Hurry, John. The man from the box is downstairs."

"But so is Suzie!" John insisted, as Sherlock hopped to the ground.

"Come on, John." He said, moving back towards the house.

"Oh, cor." He grumbled, grabbing onto the trellis. He made it down a few feet then slipped and fell the rest of the way. Sherlock quickly helped him up and they ran, John limped, back to the house. But when they entered the house was deathly quiet.

Sherlock stood in the foyer, listening for any sound. From the depths of the house, door creaked and a soft shh sounded. Sherlock quickly started off after the sound with John following wordlessly behind. They went through another parlor and a dining room, which led to a large glass room. At one point there may have been plants growing in the room, but they were long dead. One of the double doors swung on its hinges, giving off a quick creak with each movement.

Sherlock pushed open the door and walked into the room. Many panes of the glass had been broken and the storm outside was pushing a steady breeze through the area.

"What kind of man has a police box that magically appears in places and is bigger on the inside?" Sherlock mused, looking around the dark room. The whole situation continued to grow foggier as Sherlock applied more logic. Meanwhile, John blinked a few times as the proverbial light bulb flicked on in his mind.

"Sherlock. The journal!" he said.

"What about it?"

"It talked about a man with a blue box that traveled through time and space. It was bigger on the inside. What was his name?" he ran a hand through his hair as the memories from the pages flooded his mind. The TARDIS, Rose, traveling through time and space fighting Daleks and protecting earth, fire and ice and rage and ancient and forever. "The Doctor!"

"How do you know my name?" a voice came from behind them. They spun around to see the man from the box-or the Doctor-standing there a concerned look on his face. John glanced to Sherlock then back to the Doctor. Sherlock blinked a few times, as if trying to make certain that he was actually seeing the man from John's book.

"I-ah, read it in a book. A Journal of Impossible Things."

The Doctor's rather severe look immediately changed to a large smile. "Oh, that's brilliant. John Smith, right? You can come out Donna." He laughed and looked behind him.

"It was your idea for me to stay behind the dusty chair." She said, standing up and brushing dust off her shirt. She strode over and stood next to the Doctor. "Donna Noble, it didn't mention me in the book, did it?" she introduced herself. John slowly shook his head and Donna raised an eyebrow at the Doctor. "Thought so."

"Anyway," The Doctor quickly cut her off and walked closer to John, glancing at the rather quiet Sherlock. "Who might you two be?"

"I'm Dr. John Watson and this is-"

"No. It can't be." the Doctor interrupted. He ran over to Sherlock and looked at him closely. "It is! Donna! It's Sherlock Holmes! Oh, this. Is. Brilliant. It's an honor, a real honor."

"How do you know my name?" Sherlock asked. A man who had a police box that was bigger on the inside was one thing, but knowing his name, that was something entirely different.

"Who?" Donna asked.

"Oh, come on! Sherlock Holmes, everyone knows who Sherlock Holmes is. He's the detective the one who solved the Reich-wait. What year is this exactly?"

"2010." Sherlock said, looking the Doctor up and down. He was obviously trying to deduce something about him but wasn't coming away with much and it was frustrating him greatly. The Doctor's eyebrows leaped up.

"Ohhh. So you haven't…?" he looked back to John and nodded. "Right."

"Haven't what?" Sherlock asked, feeling hot under the collar. It was the way the Doctor said his name, he decided, that bothered him. He said it like it really meant something, like the way you'd say the name of a famous person from the past.

"Sorry. Spoilers. But may I just say that you, sir, are brilliant. The most brilliant man on earth, well, besides me." The Doctor grinned and John barely stifled a snort. "What brings the world's only consulting detective and his blogger out here on a night like this?" A large lightning bolt struck across sky, as if to emphasize his point.

"Didn't you see them? The…stone balloon things?" John asked, pointing back towards the rest of the house.

"You followed stone balloons?" Donna asked.

"She was a little human girl, then she became the…other kind." Sherlock quickly explained, sounding rather peeved. This un-deducible Doctor was putting off his temper.

"Oh, of course!" The Doctor proclaimed, smacking his forehead. "The Nizshne-mollomek."

"The fish-free what?" Donna asked, her eyebrows crunching together.

"Nizshne-mollomek, or, ah, Happy Rock in English."

"They didn't look very happy." John muttered under his breath.

"In 2010 earth years, their solar system's main star collapses, swallowing the whole planet. It's thought that no one escaped, they must be the only ones." His voice grew quiet as the short tale concluded. "Did they say they needed to use your mind?" he asked Sherlock. Sherlock nodded stiffly. "Makes sense, they'd need a brilliant mind, but yours wouldn't do them much good. Not for what they're looking for. Well, allons-y then!" The Doctor practically leapt out of the room.

"Is he always like this?" John asked Donna as they fell into step next to each other. She chuckled.

"You should see him at Christmas. You'd think he's five."

"Sherlock's the same way when we've got a good case, hardly eats or sleeps, and is always running."

"The running!" Donna proclaimed, laughing. "Always running everywhere. Don't they know how to walk?"

"Exactly." John laughed. Sherlock blew past the two of them, tossing his collar up and walking as fast as he could without actually running. It reminded the two companions that they were actually in danger and they were quiet when they joined the Doctor and Sherlock in the foyer.

"What's her name?" the Doctor whispered.

"Suzie." Sherlock said, looking around the area.

"Suzie?" the Doctor called out.

"What do you want, Doctor?" Suzie's voice came from the room where they had found them before. The group walked back to the empty room.

Suzie floated in the middle of the room, and her brother hovered just above the floor. His eye was barely open, something was definitely wrong with him. The Doctor slowly approached and knelt down beside him. He pulled his sonic screwdriver from his jacket and scanned Suzie's brother.

"What happened to him?" Donna whispered.

"He'll be fine, just needs to rest in a safe place." Doctor diagnosed, reading his screwdriver.

"This world is not fit for us." Suzie-balloon explained, floating more towards her brother's head.

"The planet of the Nizshne-mollomek has no wind, so they aren't blown into anything and…popped, for lack of a better term." The Doctor explained, gently running a hand over the brother.

"We cannot live in such a turbulent world." She stated, turning back to Sherlock Holmes. "We seek a better place, but cannot find it on our own." Suzie-balloon said as she floated closer to Sherlock, who took a quick step back. The Doctor hopped up and stepped between the two.

"Sorry, Suzie. Sherlock Holmes cannot help you."

"He is a brilliant mind. The network told us so." She insisted.

"Network?" John asked.

"She means the Internet. Happy rocks were also telepathic beings, using minds to communicate and gather information. The invisible net of information surrounding this planet probably drew them here and it told them about Sherlock Holmes."

"We need a new home, Doctor." Suzie asked, sounding very pitiful indeed.

"I know you do." He whispered. "And I'll help you find one." He held out his hand. Suzie touched the area above her eye to his palm, and for a minute they were both frozen. The Doctor couldn't move as Suzie efficiently searched through his knowledge of planets and galaxies. It was a strange feeling, seeing dozens of facts and figures of worlds beyond brought to mind then discarded without using his own will.

Finally, she found one, a small planet called Noitad-nuof. The Doctor staggered back a few steps and shook his head when she released him. Donna grabbed the Doctor's shoulders to steady him.

"Thank you, Doctor." Suzie said, almost appearing like she was smiling. In a brilliant flash of light, the brother and sister were gone.

"Are you hurt, Doctor?" Donna asked, looking him over. He shook his head again and said,

"Oh, I'm fine. And they've found a home."

"So they weren't angry?" John asked, looking around the place they had just been. There was no mark to show that they had even been there.

"No. They were just children, lost children looking for a home." He was solemn for a minute, and then snapped out of it. "Well, it's been a pleasure, Doctor." He pumped John's hand then turned to Sherlock, who was still trying to figure him out. "So, what have you deduced, Mr. Holmes?" he cracked a grin. Sherlock was still firm.

"I don't know." He said, finally. The Doctor smiled even bigger.

"Well, perhaps you'll get another chance."

"Do you know that for certain?" Sherlock asked. The Doctor only smiled.

"Come on, Donna. Allons-y." Donna waved bye to John, took one last long look at Sherlock and followed him out of the house. However, Sherlock wasn't quite finished questioning the Doctor and ran after him.

They reached the outside and Suzie's little corgi scampered up to them.

"Oh, hallo, there." The Doctor said to the dog as he made his way to the TARDIS. The corgi quickly found Sherlock and sat himself down at his feet.

"DOCTOR!" Sherlock bellowed as the TARDIS disappeared. Sherlock huffed as the silence ensued, he didn't like being left with questions. John looked around, feeling strangely chuffed. His favorite book was real. It was a wonderful yet odd thought.

"Well-" John began, but was interrupted by the TARDIS reappearing on the lawn. The door opened and the Doctor poked his head out.

"Right. Two more things. John, love the blog. Sherlock, what was your great-grandfather's name?"

"Timothy Holmes." He answered, an eyebrow rising. The Doctor nodded and smiled.

"Take good care of my watch then. And stay off of hospital rooftops. Good-bye." The door closed again as Sherlock attempted to ask another question.

A few days later, Sherlock was sitting on the couch in the flat of 221B. The coffee table in front of him had been cleared off and his great-grandfather's fob watch sat in the middle with Sherlock staring intently at it. The case of the happy rocks may have started out a 2, but it ended up being unclassifiable. Sherlock had spent almost every waking minute trying to figure out how he could logically explain the Doctor, but every time he thought he had found something, it just gave him more questions.

"You still trying to figure out that thing?" John asked, settling down in his chair with toast and the newspaper.

" 'Take good care of my watch then.' That's what he said, John. How could it be his watch? Great-grandfather got it in 1913 from his teacher John Smith."

"I told you the TARDIS travels through space and time."

Sherlock scoffed and went back to studying the strange overlapping circles on the watch, as the corgi trotted into the room. John patted the space beside him and the corgi happily leaped up on his lap instead.

"You know you could just wait till we see him again and ask him then." John suggested, scratching the corgi behind its ears.

"I need answers now, not when he chooses to show up again. Wait on his whim, who knows what he could be thinking or planning, do you know how infuriating that is?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes." John said, opening the paper. There was a few minutes of peaceful silence.

"John, the dog." Sherlock said, staring at the watch. John had managed to keep the dog and was hoping that Sherlock wouldn't notice till everyone had become so attached to him that they had no choice but to keep the dog. However, he didn't appear to be that lucky.

"Can't we keep him, Sherlock? It'd be nice to have some companionship."

"It's an idiot."

"It's a dog."

"It's an idiot dog." Sherlock insisted, finally looking up at John. John looked down at the dog, which wasn't the most intelligent to be honest but it was endearing. "You might as well turn Anderson into a dog."

"Oh, come on. He's not that much of an idiot."

"He cannot stay." Sherlock said as his phone buzzed. He picked up the phone and glanced at the text from Mycroft.

"Fine, I'll take him to the shelter today." John frowned as he continued reading the paper. He didn't want to give the dog away, but Sherlock was adamant and would make life miserable until the dog was gone.

"I'm going to Belarus today." Sherlock said, standing up and walking towards his room.

"What-why?" John called after him.

"Mycroft has some idiot on death row that I need to interview."

"And you're going?" John stood up and followed after Sherlock with the dog happily following John.

"The exact text says there's a black car outside that is for me. I already knew about the idiot in Minsk."

With Sherlock gone, the corgi stayed around the flat for a few more days. But John reluctantly dropped the dog off at a shelter the day before Sherlock was due to return. His mind drifted back to the Doctor and the Nizshne-mollomek, or Happy Rocks, on the cab ride to the shelter.

"Oh, what a cutie!" the teenage girl who was manning the counter exclaimed, seeing the corgi in John's arms.

"Yeah." John said, giving the dog one final scratch behind the ears. "Afraid he can't stay in the flat." He explained.

The girl nodded in an understanding manner. "It's alright. He'll be put with a very loving home in no time. Corgis are very popular."

John nodded, his mind drifting back to how he had found the silly dog. What an adventure.

"What's his name?" she asked. John paused, looking at the dog's excited face, and then said,

"…Glad…stone."

"Gladstone?" the girl asked, writing it down.

"Yes, Gladstone."

"Well, Gladstone the corgi. I'm sure whoever adopts him will love him in spite of the unique name." she said. John nodded a few times and after paying Gladstone's bill, he left the shelter, silently wishing the dog the best of luck with its new owner.

Many years passed and much changed for Sherlock and John, but a few things remained constant. The Journal of Impossible Things remained on the shelf of 221B, except when someone took it off to look through the pages. And Sherlock took very good care of his great-grandfather's watch, following the Doctor's order in spite of himself. But they didn't see the man himself. Not until one rainy Sunday afternoon when the doorbell rang. John opened the door to find the Doctor standing there. He smiled and said,

"Hallo. I have a mystery."

The End…?

Author's Note: Thank you very much for reading. This is my first attempt at Wholock (and at Doctor Who) fanfic, so any suggestions about Ten or Donna's characters would be great (I'll hopefully be writing with them again in the future since they were my favorite pairing to date). Or if you have any suggestions/comments at all, please do share. If you didn't understand the corgi's name, it's a reference to my Sherlock fanfic Poppies (which is a reference to the Sherlock Holmes movies…reference-ception!) And HUZZAH to you if you caught the Cabin Pressure references. :) You must be brilliant! Again, thank you. See you around the web.