“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”
Arthur C. Clarke
"I don’t know what you expect to get from them" McKay grumbled. "They’re only one step above apes. They don’t even have a language we can understand! It’s like the opening sequence of 2001 here."
Wordlessly, Sheppard fired the signal flare into the sky. As it exploded in bright, shimmering fragments that hovered above the encampment, the natives fell to their knees. They whispered things that might have been prayers. Or curses, depending on what side you were on.
McKay stared, jaw slightly slack. “Ah,” he said as he exhaled. “Clarke’s third law.”
"Clark with or without an e?" Sheppard asked. He folded his arms across his chest and smirked at the cluster of ape-like humans (human-like apes?) that was forming in front of him.
"With?" McKay said in that snotty tone that only McKay and sixteen-year-old girls tended to use. "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic? You fired the flare. I assumed you knew that.”
"I do know that, Rodney. It was a joke.”
"Oh," said McKay. Then he frowned. "What’s Clark-without-an-E’s third law?"
"If I put these glasses on, no one will know I’m Superman."
Anthea? Also a Time Lord. That’s why she doesn’t have a set name.
Sherlock, on the other hand, is not a Time Lord. He’s just a very extraordinary man. He’s not related in any way to Mycroft. It has not escaped his notice that Mycroft (now, in his 40s one would presume) looks exactly the same as Mycroft did in his twenties, but Sherlock assumes it’s just unfortunate genetics at work. (“He’s always been old,” Sherlock says, and John just nods, because he cannot imagine Mycroft as a child, or even a teenager.)
Mrs Holmes has only a very vague memory of the pregnancy and birth of Mycroft, but quickly points out that it was “a very different time” and she was probably drugged to the eyeballs from the moment her water broke to the day they brought him home from the hospital. (“And then again until roughly 1972,” Sherlock adds, implying that his parents were at one point Flower Children. John’s mind refuses to accept a Hippie-Toddler!Mycroft, sporting tie-dye onesies and long hair.)
Naturally, there are photos of the family that include a child-sized Mycroft. It’s just that they were boxed up once when the family moved to a larger home when Sherlock was starting to toddle, and no one was ever really sure where the box with those photo albums ended up. “Attic, probably. Up there with the Christmas decorations that Sherlock always hated,” says Mummy.
Well, I wouldn’t have, now would I? But in my perfect imagination, it ends a little something like this: Nine glorious seasons later, Kaylee and Simon have had several beautiful brunette babies, a couple of which have turned out to be crazy geniuses like their Auntie River (Firefly: the Next Generation?), and one who mysteriously looks a lot like Matthew Fox, who became a regular cast member in season six. River has finally found her marbles and is now captaining her own ship with her loyal second-in-command, Jayne, who claims that River is the best captain he’s ever known. Saffron is now their mercenary, and Jayne’s lover. And because this is the future and vast discoveries have been made in the world of medicine, Jayne is pregnant with their first child. Inara and Mal finally profess their undying love for each other while Inara is, well, dying in his arms (something gruesome, lotsa blood), and Mal finally realizes that life is short. And promptly confesses his (other) undying love to Zoe. And she promptly punches him in the face.
Come on, somebody pick up that show for a second season already! We can come up with the budget! I’ve got 20 bucks in my pocket right now!