A moment ago he was in his office, finishing up a report. Now he was, well, he didn't rightly know. Clearly it was a lobby to a hotel, a very extravagant hotel - with several chandeliers hanging, ornate furniture, and golden trimmed archways – but other than that, he had no clue.

"Mr. Murdoch!" called a familiar voice from behind the admissions desk. "This is an unexpected pleasure!" continued the man as Murdoch approached, his shoes echoing loudly in the empty grand hall.

When Murdoch was closer he recognized the man to be none other than Henry Higgins! It had taken him a few moments to figure out since Henry didn't look very similar to the man he knew. This man was wearing the sort of clothing one would expect a clerk to wear, that is to say, much finer than a constables outfit. He also had small circular glasses that barely covered his eyes and his hair was slicked back oddly and much darker than Murdoch was accustomed to. When Henry smiled, Murdoch detected glimmers of gold within and Murdoch knew he must be very rich. Vaguely he wondered why Henry was working as a clerk if that was the case.

"I wasn't informed of your earlier arrival date." There was a slight accusatory edge to his tone but overall his voice was extremely cordial. Henry looked out the large glass doors and towards the darkened street. "And apparently no one else was either. This has to be the first time I haven't seen the paparazzi hounding our doors."

Murdoch raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"And where is Mr. Crabtree this evening?"

"I'm not sure," he answered truthfully.

Henry muttered something that might have been, "No doubt finding himself in trouble." The man cleared his throat, smiled again and said, "If you don't mind my asking, sir, why didn't you just fly in via helicopter, like you usually do?"

He had no idea how to respond to that either since he didn't know what Henry was talking about. Well he vaguely understood. Hélicoptère meant something like curved wing...if you broke it down into it's Greek constituents that is.

"Sir?" prompted Henry, his smile wavering slightly.

Murdoch cleared his throat. "I suppose I was not in the mood for..." he gestured vaguely, "flying."

Henry leaned in a bit across the desk. If obsequiousness was a physical property of air, he would have been coated in it.

"I completely understand, sir. I would imagine six hours in a tin can, no matter how fancy, would be rather enough for anyone."

Tin can?

"You must be tired, sir, why don't you head on up and get some rest? Or if you're hungry, I can have Mrs. Kitchen whip you up something nice to eat."

If her cooking was anything like what he was accustomed to, the answer was a resounding no. Besides which, he was feeling so bewildered, he just wanted to close his eyes and wake up from this vivid dream.

"Tired," he muttered, "very tired."

"Very well, sir. I bid you adieu then."

Henry stared at him curiously when he continued to stand there. There was a ding from further down the lobby and he looked in the direction of the sound. Silver doors opened sideways to allow two women out. Murdoch took the hint and moved over to their position. Even from here he understood the contraptions to be elevators. Vastly different to what he was acquainted with, but elevators all the same, six of them, all told.

A rather extravagant amount, he thought absentmindedly.

The young women were not only dressed oddly - if he wasn't much mistaken they were garbed in some type of trousers as well as rather inappropriate blouses- but acted oddly too. They simply stood there, staring at him, almost open mouthed.

"Hello," he said, giving them a small uncertain smile.

Neither said anything but one of them giggled and still eyeing him, madly whispered to her friend.

All right then...

The elevator door had been held open by a white gloved attendant dressed in rather bright colours. Murdoch did a double take when he recognized this smiling man as well.

"Worseley?"

"Sir, how nice to see you again!"

Worseley touched the topmost button. Murdoch was slightly surprised when it lit up, but much more so by the number.

Sixty-five! My goodness! How can a building be that tall?

"How was your trip, sir? Did your presentation go as planned?"

Feeling like he had to respond, he went with something non-committal. "It's too soon to tell."

"Oh I'm sure you impressed them," Worseley said, with a warm smile. "You always do."

Murdoch caught a glimpse of himself in the highly polished mirrors that lined this enclosure. The changes were as follows: his hair was not greased back at all but was instead coiffed and styled a little strangely at the front; his suit was subtly pinstriped and open; he wore no tie or vest and his collar was not done all the way up. What really surprised him though was the material his clothing was made out of. Clearly it was silk, something he could never have expected to afford in his wildest dreams. Therefore he knew none of this was real.

Unlike his previous encounters with elevators this one was much more pleasant. There was very little jerking and noise and considering the distance they had to travel, it was over exceedingly quickly.

The doors parted and revealed a spacious abode that seemed to stretch on for miles.

Where is the corridor? he thought flabbergasted by the immensity of the space. Certainly this cannot be just one persons apartment?

Worseley was giving him a puzzled look. "Are you okay, sir?"

"Yes, yes, I am fine. Goodnight Worseley."

"Goodnight, sir."

Murdoch stepped out and the lights turned on! He whirled around to see who had flipped the switch but there was no one there, no one except an increasingly concerned looking Worseley.

"Sir, are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes," he managed to croak out as he took in his surroundings, gaping at everything in awe. There was a grand piano off in the corner. Several libraries worth of books. Lavish yet familiar furniture strewn about. He had seen things like this many times during the course of his dealings with James Pendrick. But to think this was all his, impossible!

Bright lights caught his attention and he walked a ways across the hardwood floors until he reached the other end and the gigantic windows lining this side. What he saw made his jaw drop even more.

The number of buildings, of impossibly tall buildings was incredible! Little squares of light twinkled out haphazardly from all of them. He looked down, very thankful it was not daytime, quite sure he would have hyperventilated from the drop.

Such ingenuity! he thought to himself, hand trembling on the glass. Such immensity!

Suffice it to say, the sprawling urban landscape before him served to make him feel very small and even more bewildered than he already was.

There was a rumbling whooshing sound and his gaze now turned upwards. If he wasn't much mistaken, he could see lights passing by! It reminded him of the blimp the government had been working on a few years back. Well in 1895 anyway. This was clearly a different era. Even a simpleton could see that!

As he tried to wrap his head around all of this, and calm his heartbeat back down to a reasonable level, he became aware of another sound, much fainter than the machine that had passed by in the starless sky, but a sound nonetheless. He of course had assumed he was here alone, but now he was not quite so sure.

Murdoch headed in the direction of a light way down the hall here. He passed by room after room, more lights coming on as if by magic, the noise becoming louder all the while. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make sense of the sound. Why would there be rain inside?

He turned into an open doorway, into a massive bedroom, and stood just outside of another room, what he assumed to be the water closet. After a moment or two of straining his hearing, he detected the unmistakeable sounds of intermittent humming.

It was a woman's voice!

Quickly he looked to his left hand and saw there was no wedding ring there. The idea of living with a woman while unwed was almost incomprehensible to him. Half of his mind told him to flee before she became aware of his presence while the other curious half kept his feet firmly planted.

Suddenly the falling water sound stopped and the humming became much more apparent. He had heard that humming before...in the morgue!

Julia!

A second after he thought this the door to the water closet opened, steam billowing out thick and heavy and the woman in question emerged through it like some ethereal creature.

This Julia's hair was much shorter than he was accustomed to, only travelling down to her shoulders, complete with a weird fringe across her forehead. Her hair was a little messy but otherwise completely straight and he had to wonder if it was always like that or if it was simply because it was wet currently. Of course, these thoughts all took place over the span of a microsecond. For there she was, almost within arms reach, wearing virtually nothing. Strange hair styles were the least of his concern.

Their eyes met and at first she jumped, put a hand to her chest and gasped in a very Canadian accent, "Will!" She released a nervous giggle, "Don't- don't do that!"

"Sorry," he muttered stupefied, eyeing her toweled form.

"You're home so early!" she squealed happily, quickly closing the gap between them and embracing him tightly. Her hair smelled delectable, like strawberries. "I thought it was several days yet?"

"Plans changed," he managed to get out, uncomfortably aware of her figure pressing against his body.

Despite his best efforts, he could not prevent a certain natural reaction from occurring.

"I missed you too," came the breathy response and then a nibble on his ear!

Julia let go of him and he was thankful for this brief respite. Then she loosed her towel and let it drop to the floor causing his heart rate to skyrocket into the stratosphere and his eyes to bulge out of his skull. It was impossible not to look at the perfect womanly specimen before him. All of his fantasies in this regard had not done her proper justice.

Since he simply stood there in such a stupid attitude, it was no wonder that she gave him a funny look. Apparently his demeanour also amused her because she laughed as well.

"Well?" she asked, hands on naked hips. "What are you waiting for, hot stuff?" Murdoch gulped or at least attempted to through his now very dry throat.

Julia frowned. "I've never known you to be so shy." She touched his forearm. "Is something the matter?"

If this was a bizarre fantasy, which it must be - for what other explanation could there be?- then it would be perfectly fine for him to succumb to his almost overwhelming desires and ravish her right here and now.

Unfortunately a small part of his logical brain was still functioning, pushing him to investigate this matter further before proceeding.

"Am I dreaming?" he enquired, touching the warm flesh of her hand. "Or are you really here?"

She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck, making him uncomfortable again. "You're a sight for sore eyes too, hot stuff."

Why did she keep calling him that? What did that even mean? What was going on?

Unsure of what to do next, he decided to tell the truth. This task was easier said than done. It was very difficult to focus as she was rubbing her nose (as well as other parts of her body) against his. "Julia, listen to me," he babbled, "something strange is happening here. I am not the man you think I am. I'm from another century, eighteen-ninety-eight to be precise. I'm a detective there and I had just finished up a case before finding myself here and-"

Another musical laugh proceeded this statement. "Really, Will, games? I would've thought you'd just want to get straight to the good stuff. But okay," she grinned, "I'll play along." She moved away from him again, into a large closet, pulled out a silky purple robe that did little to hide her figure and laced it up. "My name is...Dr. Ogden," she said seductively, advancing on his position. "I'm a feisty physician who uses radical techniques to help her patients." She tugged on his lapels roughly. "Which is good news for you, detective, because you seem to be rather confused of late." Her hands were trailing lower, feeling up his chest and abdomen, sending further thrills through him. "And there's only one way to get down to the bottom of a mystery like that." Her luscious lips were grazing his own, just begging to be tasted. "I'm afraid I'll need to examine you quite thoroughly."

At the last she clutched his buttocks and it was all he could do not to yelp in alarm and arousal. If strange sounds hadn't sprung into life at that exact moment, he doubted he would have had the strength to resist her further.

She released various parts of him and muttered, "Damn it."

If his vocal chords had been working he would have scolded her.

Over by the dresser a light was flashing. Apparently the little rectangular device was also emitting the bizarre sounds.

Julia scooped it up and glared at it. Then she pressed the front of it and held it up to her ear.

"This better be good," she barked in a manner reminiscent of the inspector.

There was a short silence.

"You're sure?" she said with a sigh.

She removed the device from her ear, touched it again and scowled.

"There's been another one," she informed him, as if that meant anything.

Then she went back to the ridiculously large closet, pulled out some clothes, threw them on the bed and disrobed.

Within a remarkably small span of time she was dressed in a manner very similar to the strange girls from the lobby, but somehow where Julia was concerned, the snug, sleeveless blouse was not an issue for him. After fiddling in the water closet for several more minutes she came out with combed hair, lipstick on and dark lines surrounding her eyes. While he did not approve of makeup, he had to admit that the effect made her eyes even more vibrant than usual. So once more he wasn't going to complain.

After strapping a holster around her waist, complete with pistol, she grabbed her coat, gave him a quick peck on the cheek and said, "I'm so sorry." Giggling at the doorway, "Rain check on our little game?"

A trail of perfume remained long after she was out of sight, further muddying his mind. Completely overcome by the events of the last few minutes, he collapsed on the very large, very comfortable bed and closed his eyes, hoping that when he next opened them, things would be back to normal.

They weren't.