Welcome to Gaia! ::

(Bother me? Why would your kind and thoughtful act bother me?)

"Yes, well, I mean, how could it not know about itself? Isn't needing a second sonic to describe the first rather redun-", he trailed off mid word, jaw dropping as he quickly locked the flat door and poked his head inside, wide eyes scanning. "I'm excitable any day. It's just there's not usually much to excite me", he quipped, though the breathlessness in his voice kind of took away its sarcastic bite and made it sound really genuine.

(And now of course, suddenly Sherlock likes him. Go figure. We both knew that would happen. ;P )

"Well, I don't know. But it's unfortunate for me." Sherlock slipped inside behind the Doctor and had begun stroking various parts of the remarkable machine with his free hand, absorbed in his own fascination.

"Anywhere in time and space. I wish John were here for this. He would probably love it. Ask you all sorts of silly questions I'm sure you've heard a million times before." If this was a dream, it was finally turning into an enjoyable one at least.

Holmes turned his attention back to the sonic, smirking thoughtfully. He wondered what his limits were with this thing. "Turn on everyone's personal computers on this Earth and bring up an internet picture of a random mythological figure, then eject their disk drives if they have them. Change all of the LED adverts in London to a picture of a field of flowers. Text all of Scotland Yard an anonymous message saying 'A man was born in 1955. He's alive and well today at age 33. How is this possible?' Got to keep them sharp. And clear my e-mail of junk mail. On my computer, find me some interesting unsolved cases on the internet. Also, put malware on Donovan's computer. Locate the nearest second sonic screwdriver. Scan the Doctor." He'd spoken rather quickly, gauging the Doctor for his reaction.

(Oh, no, not at all. smile Also, fun facts.)

"What's so great about a device that can't interfere with everything?" Sherlock was only speaking in mild annoyance, but mostly because he hadn't realised the thing could be extended before it was taken away from him.

"Well, oh. Oh. Hm. John would still love this. Every second of it. He's a romantic fool, always begging for an adventure. Right, and about this first me. How am I different now?"

Sherlock felt his mouth dry up. "This- it's", he looked around, "it's the Victorian Era, a great time for crime-- but not for crime fighters. The police were laughably inefficient in these days." Secretly he was much more astonished than he was letting on, but he needed to keep his cool, especially while apparently travelling in time.

Sherlock stepped outside and ran up to the door, 221B, touched it. It had an uncanny feel. He checked the knob. Unlocked, often times just like his 221B. He opened the door and counted seventeen steps up into the darkness of the upstairs.

It looked a lot like the 221B Baker Street he'd come to cherish, and yet it wasn't. His head spun and he calmed his breaths, leaning against the doorway, white as a sheet. This was all too real, and yet so preposterous. His logical brain was waging an all out civil war.

Sherlock's attention was also drawn to this young girl covered in red, and only his eyes followed her as he let himself finish calming down. She was too far away to tell whether it was paint or blood, and even then, in this barbaric age it could have been the blood of any animal. She did however, seem troubled, not that it was any of his business. A thought occurred.

He walked back to the Doctor. "You're an experienced traveller of time. Tell me, if I'm in the past, could I alter the future? Also, is there anything else I should know? Remember to treat me as if I know absolutely nothing about time and space travel."

"Jack the Ripper?" Sherlock raised his brows curiously, showing no particular sign of sympathy as though he were watching a documentary. "I could never figure that one out." He looked back at his new acquaintance. "I'm not 'assuming' anything by the way. That's why I asked. Time is not my area and to assume any knowledge could be rather disastrous."

He touched his finger on his chin thoughtfully. "Is that what happened to the rest of the travellers? One of those 'fixed points'? And if you're so sad about them being gone, can't you just go back to the time when they existed to see them again? And that's another thing, how do time and universe travellers all get themselves killed permanently when they've reflected like a mirror in the time continuum so many times? Wouldn't they still exist in the times and places they've been to? Can't you in theory run into yourself? Can't I now in theory run into myself?? Or somehow see evidence of my being here? Doesn't this mean death is merely an illusion?" He just couldn't help himself; his inquiring mind overwhelmed his sensibility.