“Look at the elegant construction!”

John sat back against Mary on the couch by the controls of the Tardis and smiled as they watched Sherlock explore every inch of the spacecraft in preparation for their first trip to meet Mary’s family. John had been for a few journeys in the ship, but between Sherlock’s cases and his own patients, it seemed that there was never enough time to make the full sojourn to Gallifrey. Luckily, the guise of an anniversary trip to the countryside created just the opportunity.

“She wanted to play anthropologist,” Mary said, absently stroking the console. “And there is really no better way to do that than by living among the civilization you want to study for extended periods of time.”

“She?” Sherlock looked up with interest. “You mean to say that this is a sentient spaceship?”

“She is called a Tardis,” Mary explained. “On Gallifrey, sometimes our ships want to have adventures as much as the rest of us, so if you’re lucky, you can find one with complementary desires to join you.”

“How marvellous!” Sherlock’s eyes lit up and he continued to wander the deck, hands trailing over every surface, pausing only once he reached a large black, reflective panel with silver trimming along the edges.

“You especially will enjoy that,” John said. “That screen displays the data that the Tardis has collected over the years. The data retrieval capacities that Mary’s Tardis possesses are phenomenal. Why I bet she could even out observe you.”

“Show me something that no one else on planet could know.” Holmes demanded, sounding incredulous that a mere machine could outsmart him, sentient or not.

Mary paused, considered, and moved a few dials to project a moving picture on the panel. John would never get over the marvels of technology that Mary was simply able to take for granted. “Since we are visiting family and all …”

Sherlock watched with interest as the fragments resolved themselves into a coherent picture, John watching Sherlock, because his reaction was likely to be much more interesting than the wonders of Mary's Tardis, which he had seen before. However, once the picture resolved into the image of happy looking man petting a dog, Sherlock's expression quickly turned into one that was much more stunned than John was expecting. “That is my brother. But what is he wearing? And what is that expression on his face? Is that a DOG?”

John started … well, he was quite certain that Mary would refer to the sounds leaving his mouth as a giggle, but he preferred to think of it as laughter. Much more dignified, and dignity was few and far between in his life these days. “Mary, I thought you said that Sherlock’s brother was intimidating when you met him last year?”

“Oh, he is, no doubt about it,” Sherlock said, his face still contorted in confusion. “He could order a man to be executed and then go back to petting that dog, no second thoughts.” His face smoothed out to become almost entirely unreadable. “It’s just been many years since I’ve seen him look that content.”

Mary looked at John, and they both turned to look at Sherlock, who was looking lost. Moving in unison, the Watsons arose from the couch to flank Sherlock on either side, offering him their nearness. “Mary,” Sherlock said with studied casualness. “Before we embark to visit your homeworld, could we perhaps stop and visit my brother on the way?”