Sherlock's head popped out of his bedroom door. "What?" He ran into the living room shirtless having just put on his trousers. "You know something about this?"
"Yes. My mum used to tell me all these stories about a man that traveled around in a box like this. She said he was called The Doctor. He would go around saving the universe in that telephone box. She said she went with him once. Stopped these things called uh-umm- damn it what were they called?" John said joking at first and then struggling to find the right words.
Sherlock was staring at John with wide eyes, waiting for John to tell him what these things were called. "John what were they called?! Think!"
"DALEKS! THEY WERE CALLED DALEKS!"
"Yes! You've remembered. Now what are daleks?"
"She didn't want to talk about them. She said they were evil creatures. Creatures that should never be spoken of again. Creatures of hatred and anger," John said, almost a ring of fear in his voice.
"Okay. I need to find out who this man is now. Call your mum we're going to need her."
"Sherlock, she passed away a year ago. You came to the funeral with me," John was on the verge of tears, his mum had become a sensitive subject.
A/N I have no idea if in BBC Sherlock, John's mum is alive or not but let's just say for this she isn't.
"Oh. Well did she leave anything behind that could possibly help with this?" Sherlock asked, feeling horrible for forgetting of John's mourning last year, but still acknowledging the importance of the case.
"She left a number. She said, 'if you're ever in trouble, call this. The Doctor will save you.' I never used it. She had dementia and didn't know what she was talking about. I mean-" John was quickly interrupted by his companion.
"We have to try it. Do you still have it?"
"I kept everything. All the small things are in a box under my bed."
"Go get it," Sherlock demanded. John ran into his room and came back with the box.
Sherlock was sitting at the desk, looking up this "Doctor" on his laptop.
John opened the box and fished around until he found the small piece of a napkin his mother had written on in the hospital in her last moments of life.
"Here. This is the number," John said, handing the napkin over to the detective.
Sherlock looked at the article. On it, was written:
TARDIS
"TARDIS? What's that? John explain," Sherlock was growing frustrated by his ignorance. It was something he was certainly not accustomed to.
"My mum called the box that."
"Well we shall call this... TARDIS."
Sherlock picked up his cell phone, and dialed the number. Four rings later, a voice picked up.
"Hello?"
A/N
How am I doing with this whole writing fanfic/one shot thing? I feel like I'm getting better at it. If there are any requests just let me know.
