Once upon a time there was a mad man in a box. This man had fantastic hair, always. This time it was ginger. He rather liked that. Ginger hair that is. He always wanted to be a ginge.
God knows why.
Anyways, normally he had companions. People he traveled with, laughed with, put in terrible danger, had tea with, saved from previously mentioned peril, and ran with. Oh there was so much running.
But for now he was alone. The companions had gone back to their lives, their boring, silly little human lives.
And he was bored. So bloody bored.
Which is why we find him now, sitting at the console and spinning what he lovingly called, but only to himself, the ‘thingamabob of random rouletteyness’. (Basically it took him to random places and times. He didn’t use it that often since the TARDIS took him some random places indeed… but it was a Thursday and he really never could get the hang of those. And this was a bloody boring Thursday indeed. But I digress)
He spun the little dial, the TARDIS lurched and went 'vworp vworp’ and landed with a nice, soft thump.
He ran to the door excitedly, pulled it inwards and stepped into the middle of a messy flat.
Loud footsteps on the stairs made him spin gracelessly on the spot and come face to face with a short, blonde man in a pale oatmeal jumper.
“Sherlock? Why is there a Police Box in the living room? Why are you ginger? Hold on…” The man looked the Doctor up and down, finally realized he was not 'Sherlock’ and frowned. “Who’re you?”
A tall man (who did indeed look quite like him) walked into the room from the kitchen, took one look at the Doctor and smiled.