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The Childhood of Sherlock Holmes

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1 The Childhood of Sherlock Holmes on Fri Sep 11, 2015 7:49 pm

There once was a boy who stumbled onto an old wooden box, and inside this box was a man. A man who, claiming the knowledge of the universe, invited the boy inside. The man spoke little at first. He seemed distant and sad, like he was watching his life slip away before his eyes. Yet the man seemed to enjoy the company of this young boy and, for whatever reason, agreed to tell him of his adventures. And so, every day after lunch the boy would race to the corner where the blue box stood, and the man would tell him a story. As the boy sat there, he would learn to love life, to laugh, and to enjoy the companionship of others. As the days wore on the boy began to share more and more of his own adventures with the man as their bond continued to strengthen and grow. The boy would often spend his nights dreaming of traveling with this man, seeing strange new places and meeting strange new people, but whenever the boy would ask the man if he could go with him, the man would get very quiet and somber. A smile would slowly creep upon his face as he mused quietly, “maybe one day.” Soon the thought of joining the man was all the boy could think about, until, one day, he ran to where the box stood intent on begging him to take him away from his mundane life filled with people who seemed to have no idea what the world had in store. But when the boy reached the place where the blue box had always been, he saw nothing but an empty space. “Maybe he’s late,” the boy thought. So he stood there and waited. But soon the minutes turned to hours and eventually the sun had begun to dip behind the horizon, and so the boy went home. For the next week he would come to the same spot and wait there, longing for the man to return. But as the days wore on, the time he would wait decreased until finally Sunday came around and he barely felt like going at all. As the boy grew into a man he developed a disdain for his former mentor, closing himself off from everyone around him and abandoning everything the man had taught him. The scars of this betrayal would never fully heal; his disdain for the lives around him stemming from the center of this wound. And yet, at the same time, a part of him remained as a child; a boy waiting on a street corner for a daft old man in a blue wooden box.

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2 Re: The Childhood of Sherlock Holmes on Fri Sep 11, 2015 7:58 pm

This was written from the perspective of the 10th doctor during the time frame between the 50th anniversary and The End of Time, as the Doctor has come to the realization that he is reaching the end of his life and is trying to prolong it for as long as he can.

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