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“I’ll be mother,” Mycroft said, pouring him and his brother a cup of imaginary tea.
Sherlock groaned, flopping onto his back, the carpeting soft against his small hands, “Mycroft this is so boring! Why can’t we do anything fun for once?”
“Now, now, Sherlock. Our Mother and Father left me in charge while they went out to their lunch party today,” He looked at his brother, a teasing smile adorning his lips and a mischievous gleam in his eye, “And besides, you agreed to do whatever I wanted today as long as I didn’t mention that little mishap of yours last week. Or do you forget the acid burns you left on Mummy’s favorite rug?”
Scowling, the younger of the two stuck his tongue out at the reminder before sitting up, pushing his hands through his hair in an attempt to tame his wild black curls, “You’re mean.”
“Practical, I would call it. Now take your cup and saucer like a good boy.”
Sherlock did as he was told, glaring daggers as his brother pretended to drink. Neither one of them was allowed to use the stove yet so a real pot of tea was unfortunately lacking from their party. And things would have been so much more interesting if he could test which of Mycroft’s toys was the most stain resistant.
Mycroft sighed, painfully aware of his brother’s discomfort, “Sherlock.”
“What?” he mumbled, crossing his arms, determined to be as difficult as possible.
Mycroft sighed again, pulling out a small plate of cookies, “There. Will this make you a little less surly?”
Grinning like a little devil Sherlock snagged all four before Mycroft’s hand had even left the lip of the plate, “Sorry, brother, looks like they’re all gone. You’l have to go all the way down to the kitchen to get yours.”
It was Mycroft’s turn to glare as he set his tea cup down with a clatter and rose, stiffly walking across the room, “If that’s the way you want to play it, Sherlock. Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone or those acid burns won’t remain secret for much longer.”
Sniggering to himself Sherlock looked around, popping one of the cookies into his mouth and wondering if there was anything weird he could do in the time it would take Mycroft to come back. He had only just decided to crumble one of the cookies under Mycroft’s bed sheets when he heard a very persistent tapping on the window. Frowning he stood, hands still full of the remaining sweets, and pulled the curtains open.
“Hello!”
He jumped, one of the cookies falling to the ground as he came face to face with an odd looking man in a bow tie. Hiding his initial shock he scowled, “Who are you? What do you want?”
“Oh good, you’re still cheeky. Nothing changes, then. Good, that’s good, would you mind opening the window?”
“Why should I?”
The man smiled, “Because I’m the Doctor, of course.”
Sherlock turned his nose up, “We don’t need a doctor. Mycroft is only making us play house.”
“Oh, please, Sherlock? Its not too comfortable hanging off the side of a building, you know.”
This gave him a moment of pause, studying the strange man, “How do you know my name?”
He smiled, “Open the window and I’ll tell you, Sherlock.”
Thinking it over for another moment Sherlock slowly reached up, undoing the latch and letting the window swing open. And then they were face-to-face, old brown eyes staring into fresh blue ones.
“Who are-“
“Sorry, got to dash!” Hand darting in the odd man with the bow tie snagged one of his cookies before leaping off the side, grinning like a madman before vanishing from sight. Sherlock gasped, running to the ledge and looking out. But he saw nothing. Only the grass and his mother’s gardens as they always were.
“Sherlock, what are you doing?” Mycroft said as he came into the room, “Come back to the table before you fall out.”
Slowly Sherlock closed the window once more, staring out over the lawns. He knew what he had seen was real. And he knew he’d never forget that face.
——————----------------------------------------------------------------------
Back in the present the Doctor grinned, stepping out of his TARDIS and taking a bite out of the Jammy Dodger that had been in the child’s hand not a moment ago, “See? I told you,” he said around the crumbs, “Time travel.”
Sherlock, fully grown by now and staring dumbly at the man before him shook his head, taking a few steps forward, “Okay, so you’re not entirely mad. But I still don’t see why I should go with you.”
The Doctor’s smile grew wider, “Did I mention its a space ship too?”
Finally a grin spread across Sherlock’s face. Stuffing his hands into his coat pockets he followed the madman into his blue box, door closing behind them as he thought, “John won’t mind. I’ll only be gone a few minutes.”