John Watson woke with a fright, having just woken up from a terrifying dream involving Sherlock. He tried to move to get up but found that he was rather constricted in the spot he was in. He waited for his eyes to adjust before realizing that he seemed to be inside of some container. There was a glass window right above his face that started moving as soon as he saw it, opening up whatever container he was in. He stayed completely still, his eyes darting around as the container opened. He listened for any other noises but could not see any. He took in several breaths to see if the air was suitable for living. It took him a few moments of confusion before he sat up and squeezed out of the container, hopping out onto the floor of whatever room he was in. It was dark and he moved to a wall, trying to find a light switch. As soon as he moved, however, lights lit up the room and he saw that he was in some sort of advanced cargo bay.
"What…?" he breathed and looked around at what he guessed to be fifty some similar containers as what he had just come out of. He didn't move, looking confusedly at the containers. He realized suddenly that he was rather cold and pulled his brown sweater closer to him. He had to take several calming breaths before he could begin to look for a door.
"Hello?" he called quietly, hoping to find help but also aware that whatever it was that had put him in there might not be very friendly. Nothing answered and he walked cautiously toward something that looked slightly like it might be a weird sort of sliding door.
He tripped over his own feet and almost landed on his face, only catching himself with one of the weird tubes that looked like his. He stood up and peered through the glass to see another human in this one, frozen and suspended in time.
He gasped and stepped back, tripping over another tube and landing on his bum. He scooted away from the tube he had just tripped over and took a moment to get his bearings before standing up again and accepting that there were humans in all of the tubes. He blew out an unsteady breath and stepped back over the tube, wandering again toward the opposite side of the room.
He went to the door thing and waved his hand in front of it. It slid open with a squelch and he jumped. He wondered if this was one of Sherlock's stupid experiments. What drugs had he put him on? What on earth was happening? Was this Baskerville? It looked a whole lot like Baskerville.
John didn't dare say another word as he stepped out of the room and into a brightly lit hallway. He squinted and shied away from the light. There seemed to be flares in every surface of the hallway. He looked down both ways but saw nothing but hallway.
He started down to his right and walked for some time, staying as far from the doors as possible. He didn't want to risk any of them opening and showing him something he was not prepared to see. He walked along, uncertain, for a long while, hoping that perhaps this hallway would lead to some sort of atrium. It seemed to be curving in a circle, and that was all he knew for the moment.
Finally, he saw a break in the wall to his right and went toward it immediately. He rounded the corner to see a person in a red shirt standing in the center of a circular room lined with glass compartments. John's eyes, which were already rather wide, widened more and he held his hands together and to his chest as if he were a lost child, or perhaps a chipmunk.
The person looked at him, looking like he had just received some sort of message. "I've got the intruder, Captain," he said and John raised one of his eyebrows.
"What is going on?" he asked but the man didn't answer.
"I don't think he belongs in this century," the man said.
"Hey look, we've just met, there's no need to insult me just because I look a little old-fashioned," John said, gaining nerve from having been in similar situations before from Sherlock's doing.
"When do you think he's from?" somebody asked and the man pressed a button on the control panel in front of him.
"Probably early twenty-first century, by the looks of it," he said.
At this, John's face screwed up even more and his mouth fell open a bit. Of course he was from the early twenty-first century, weren't they all? Why were these people talking about him like he was from a different time? What the heck was happening?
John glanced around the room and his mouth fell open even more and his eyebrow almost floated off his head.
"Sherlock?" he said loudly and approached the glass compartment which he seemed to be in. "Sherlock, what the heck is going on?"
Sherlock in turn raised his eyebrow at John. "My name is Khan," he said, enunciating clearly.
John lowered his eyebrows. "Sherlock, quit it, what is happening?"
"Bilbo!"
Sherlock was distracted by the yell and John turned around to see a band of little medieval looking men filing into the room.
"What is this devilry?!" the lead cried and ran up to the glass beside John. The little men were all looking around, obviously afraid when they spotted the man behind the glass. "It is the Necromancer!" the lead yelled and they backed away from the glass, taking out bows and arrows and swords.
"Who are you people?" Sherlock said, stepping back from the glass.
"What is happening?" John yelled, confused beyond measure.
The little men began to attack the glass behind which Sherlock glared and sneered.
Suddenly, a WWI soldier rode into the room on a horse. "Major Stewart! There you are!" he yelled and jumped off of the horse. The little men all yelled and began to attack him.
"Lead the way, Bilbo!" they shouted. "Get us out of here!"
"Who is Bilbo?"
"Bilbo Baggins!" a voice boomed and John looked up to see a towering man in the doorway wearing old gray robes and a pointed hat and carrying a walking staff. "What have you done this time?"
"Major Stewart, please help!" the soldier shouted to Sherlock. "I don't wish to hurt you!" he shouted to the little men.
"Stop!" John shouted and grabbed a little man's shoulder.
"Captain, I'm going to need backup!" the red shirted man yelled, having retreated to a corner since nobody seemed to notice him.
"Why, what's happening?"
"I don't freaking know!"
"I'm coming down."
Within moments, several more red shirted people (along with some yellow shirted people and some blue shirted people) had entered the room and tried to separate the little men from the soldier.
"Are you okay, laddie?" a Scottish man asked John. The man looked faintly familiar, like he had known him in some other dimension briefly. He could even pin a name.
"Nick Angel?"
"Sorry, what?"
John leaned back a bit, getting a hold of himself. "Nothing," he said.
"Nick! Nick, what's happening?" a large man said as he entered the room from the other side. "Is it a convention or something? Is Jackie Chan here? Oh, hello Met Sergeant," he said to John.
John and the Scottish man looked at him confusedly as he approached.
"And who are you?" he asked.
"Danny," the man said. "Danny, your partner, you know," he said, hitting the Scottish man.
"My name is not Nick," he said.
"Oh, c'mon Angel, you're such a joker," he said.
"Who are you again?"
"When did you become so Scottish?"
"What? My name is Scotty! I've always been Scottish!"
"Scotty, what's happening?" a yellow shirt asked as he approached.
"I don't know, sir! I don't know anything!"
"CAPTAIN!" a scream from the opposite side of the room as a number of large blue people trampled over the little men into the room and assaulted a red dressed woman.
"Uhura!" a blue shirt near John yelled and took out a gun type thing, shooting at the blue things.
"Spock! What are you doing?!" the yellow shirt asked.
"Bilbo, why are you just standing there?" a little man that was now helping the red shirts to attack the blue people asked.
"What do you mean you don't know who I am, Nick?"
"I don't know who you are and I don't want to! I'm a little busy right now, please go away!"
"Major Stewart, it's me! Captain Nicholls!"
"My name is not Major Stewart and I don't know who you think you are!"
"He is Loki of Asgard; my brother," John whipped around, a most confused look on his face, as a very well built man walked into the room.
Sherlock and Captain Nicholls looked confusedly at the man. The yellow shirt that John assumed to be the captain turned around to look at the tall man.
"Dad?"
"Who is this small mortal?" the big man asked.
"Dad, it's me! It's your son, Jim," he said and John watched the look the two gave each other as the red shirts and little men managed to tie down the big blue people.
"Whoever you are, you should be more concerned with my brother than with those other frost giants," he said, but those "frost giants" were not frost giants. In fact, they were part of the race of Navi. "I am Thor Odinson and I have come to take my brother."
John looked to Nicholls who looked, first of all, rather desperate as he was pressed against the glass, trying to get Sherlock to understand who he was, and second, terrified at the sight of the man.
"Me?" he squeaked.
"Do not pretend, brother. You have done unspeakable things and you will now face the consequences."
"I- what? Are you from the war office?" he asked quietly and Sherlock cackled.
"I believe he wishes to fight," the big man said.
"What?" Nicholls asked and shrunk more into the glass. "I don't want to fight," he looked as if he was going to cry, "I just want to get out of here."
"Bones! There's something wrong with my dad!"
"Dangit man, I'm a doctor not a therapist," another blue shirt yelled to Jim.
"Éomer!" the tall grey hat man yelled and gestured at the newest blue shirt.
"And I'm not Éomer either, so stop calling me that!" the blue shirt yelled.
"Nick!" a new girl ran into the room.
"Stop calling me Nick!" Scotty yelled.
"Who are you?" the girl asked in passing and ran right past him to wrap her arms around Jim.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa who are you?" Jim asked trying to push the woman off of him.
"Mia… Mia Thermopolis," she said as if it was a question.
"Uh, hi Mia, I'm Captain Jim Kirk and I would love to continue this but I'm going to have to give you a rain check," he said and shoved her off of him so that he could pursue his father who was now handcuffing Captain Nicholls.
"I swear I don't even know anybody named Loki!" Nicholls yelled.
"What's the problem here?!" a raspy deep voice yelled from the other side and John saw a man dressed in all black and with a mask on that looked rather like it had ears at the top of it. "Who are all these people?!" he yelled but John wasn't sure who exactly he was talking to. "Cat Woman?! What are you doing here?!" he yelled at Mia and she backed up, tripping over a fallen blue person.
"Who are you, Batman or something?" she asked, scoffing and laughing out of nervousness.
"That's exactly who I am!" he yelled and she scooted backwards. "I am Batman!"
"And I am Javert!" another man walked in the room wearing a blue coat and hat. He continued on but could not be heard above the entire ruckus. John could tell, however, that he was singing everything he was saying.
"BlaaaAAAAARRRGGGHHHH!" a growling yell came from behind John and he ducked as a man without a shirt and with six gleaming metal claws coming from his fists jumped over him.
Javert turned to the new man.
"Prisoner 24601! Get him!"
At this point, everything had gone to pieces. The little men were happily fighting off anything that might be threatening and didn't miss the opportunity to run with war cries toward the man.
"Wait-!" the tall man with the grey hat called and the new man spotted him.
"Magneto," he growled and pounced toward the man but was caught midair around the waist by Batman who tackled him to the floor.
"Who are you?!"
"Bruce?" a new voice.
Batman looked up along with John to see a new man in the room. This one was clad in blue with a red cape and large 'S' on his chest.
"Clark?!"
Batman stood up, forgetting entirely about the shirtless man, and walked to the 'S' man.
"Buddy!" the 'S' man said and pulled Batman into an embrace.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, another flurry of events had unfolded. John found the strength to actually move again and pick his jaw up off of the floor. He pushed through some people to where the disturbance was to see what looked like a clay-mation figure walking into the room.
"Hello, I'm Charles Darwin," it said. "Erm, I'm looking for the Albino Pirate, or perhaps the Pirate with a Scarf; he may be easier to find," he said to the grey man with his fingers pressed together and with a creepy smile on his pale, clammy looking face.
"Well, you're going to have to wait a bit," John answered, "until we can get some order around here." His voice sounded much braver than he felt. His best friend was laughing evilly at everybody he knew, he seemed to be on some sort of highly advanced ship, and there were people here calling him 'Bilbo' and 'Met Sergeant'.
"Ah, Pirate with a Scarf! Nice to see you again, but I must say you have changed a bit, haven't you? No matter, I think you can help me," he said.
John was silent, waiting for whoever he was talking to to respond but the crowd was silent. He looked around to see that the gazes of each Jim, Bones, the grey man, several distracted little men, Jim's "dad", and Nicholls looking at him. He looked back to the animated Charles Darwin.
"Are you talking to me?" he asked.
"Well yes, you see, I seem to have lost the dodo," he said.
"What?"
"Expelliarmus!"
John flew forward, crushing Charles under his weight. He rolled off of him groaning.
"Ron, you missed!"
John sat up as Charles groaned and Bones rushed over to try and fix him. There were three new people in black robes across the room all with sticks in their hands, pointing them at the grey man who was now holding up his staff as if it were a weapon.
John scrambled to his feet as the red-headed boy in a black robe began to wave his arm. "Don't do that again!" he said and went to stand in front of the grey man. This was madness! And he was going to stop it!
"Who are you?!" Batman yelled and John knew another person had entered. He looked over to see a stranger with a mask on.
"Who? Who is but the form following the function of what and what I am is a man in a mask," he said calmly.
Batman took a moment, thinking and pressing the man farther up against the wall. "What?!"
"You may call me V," he said and John could practically see Batman's eyebrows raising, even behind the mask. He suddenly shoved V away and stepped back, turning his attention to the three younglings from which John was protecting the grey man.
"Who are you-?!" he went to yell but John had had just about enough as of then.
"Everybody shut up!" he shouted, his anger and confusion converting to his volume and making his voice boom over every other noise in the room.
The room silenced, the fighting stopped, and everybody looked at each other, realizing that if they were all civil enough to listen to a short British man that they would probably be willing to be civil to each other.
Every pair of eyes looked to John, waiting for instruction or something of the sort.
John looked at each of them, breathing deeply to gain back his temper. He gulped rather audibly as he realized that he had taken control of the situation. This was not his job; this was Sherlock's job! He never took the lead!
But he sure had got himself into a mess this time.