Disclaimer: Boosh belongs to the very sexy Mr Noel Fielding and Mr Julian Barratt.

A/N - This is completely AU, as I have no idea if England was really like this in the 1800s (I have my doubts - I always was rubbish at history!)

July 18th.

2009.

Vince Noir sighed happily, looking up at the old stately home. He loved this place; not that anyone else knew it. A liking for history and old buildings just didn't fit with his image as one of the Camden elite. Honestly even he thought it was ridiculous. If any of his mates had told him they were into old stuff he'd have scoffed and taken the piss or not believed them. But Vince had been interested in this stuff ever since he was a small child and went on a school trip to a castle. This castle, to be precise.

Of course the place had long ago stopped letting people visit. The floor in the room above had fallen in, almost killing a German tourist, and the building had been declared unsafe and cordoned off. Not that that stopped anyone who really wanted to get in of course, there was a door at the side that the lock had rotted away. If you knew it was there then you could gain access easily. And as far as he knew he was the only one who knew it was there. As he forced his way in he heard a crash of thunder and rain began to fall. The promised thunderstorm had started then. At least he'd be dry inside.

Vince carefully closed the door behind him and walked through the kitchen and out into the entrance hall. He breathed deeply, savouring that smell that you only get in old buildings. The air smelt of something else, too, that he couldn't identify. He hoped no-one else had discovered the way in to this place, that last thing he wanted was a gang of teenagers making this their hangout.

He closed his eyes and let his mind wonder, imagining what it must have been like when the castle was still inhabited. He imagined lots of bright furnishings, servants bustling around, a handsome lord and lady laughing happily in their home. He opened his eyes with a smile and looked around, the vision still not quite faded from his mind. He could almost see the furniture, ghostly shapes surrounding him and the faint sounds of voices in his mind. He reached out a hand to touch what looked like the faint outline of a vase, frowning when his fingers encountered something almost solid. He could still pass his hand through it, but…he could feel it. Even as he looked at the vase it seemed to become more solid, a pattern now clearly visible on its surface.

Vince began to suspect that he'd been right about the gang of teenagers, that the strange smell had probably been some sort of drug and he was now hallucinating from the fumes. But he didn't care. For a drug trip this was amazing. He walked up the main staircase, looking around him in wonder at the portraits and hangings which adorned the walls. He could see ghostly shadows of people walking past him, none of them quite there and all of them ignoring him. He turned into what he assumed was the master bedroom, his favourite room of the entire house. This was the room in which the floor had given way, so there was a large gaping hole in the middle. But it was easy enough to get around that, the bits of floor which remained clinging to the walls were steady enough he thought. He carefully and slowly made his way over to the vast window, careful not to let his vision of floor and expensive looking rugs trick him into stepping into thin air. He ran his hand down the curtains, marvelling in how the felt completely real now. In fact, everything appeared solid. He felt sure that if he were to try and put his hand through a vase now all he'd succeed in doing was knocking it off a table.

Come to think of it, this all seemed very real for a hallucination. Maybe he was wrong, maybe they were rebuilding the place and this room had already been furnished? But no, he'd seen it from the outside and these curtains hadn't been there then. They were thick and a rich shade of red and Vince felt sure he'd have been able to see them quite clearly. Plus none of it had looked this solid when he'd first walked in here. He pulled out his phone to check the time, groaning softly when he realised he'd have to leave now or he'd never make his dinner with his girlfriend Kylie. He turned to leave, only to be greeted by the sight of a large figure in the doorway clutching what looked like a very sharp antique sword.

"Who are you," the figure began in a northern accent, "and what, exactly, are you doing in my home?"

July 18

th.

1849.

Howard Moon smiled as he stepped through the doors into the entrance hall, handing his riding cloak to one of the servants who bowed and withdrew. He'd had a lovely ride with his beloved; Victoria Gideon. When she'd agreed to go riding with him he'd been over the moon, the moment he'd laid eyes on her at his mother's ball 2 weeks previous he'd known she was the one. The ride itself had been cut short by the torrential rain which had sprung up out of no-where, but before that he'd been sure she'd enjoyed herself. Maybe he'd propose next time he saw her, it was about time he took himself a wife. His father had taken a turn for the worst, and it was safe to assume he'd soon be inheriting the stately home and grounds in which he lived.

Howard frowned, pausing on the staircase as an unexpected wave of anxiety washed over him. He knew it was his responsibility as the only son to continue his father's line and protect his lands, but he wasn't sure he felt ready. He couldn't tell anyone of course; he turned 30 within a month. Much older than other home-owners he knew who had already settled down with wife and child. But Howard had always felt different to them; he'd always felt like something was wrong with his life.

A crash of thunder and a brilliant white light made him smile and peer out of the window. He loved thunder storms; had done ever since he was a boy and the chief butler used to take him out to the top of the hill and watch the rain pouring down on the valley below.

He shook his head, continuing up the stairs. He was much too old for such flights of fancy now; storms were a work of nature nothing more. They weren't there to be exciting or thrilling. He stepped through the door to his own quarters and froze. A figure stood at the window, a small contraption in his hands. A strange candle holder, maybe? It did have a square of light on the front of it. Howard considered him; he was shorter than him, and slimmer. Maybe he could take him. Maybe not. Better to be safe than sorry. Backing out into the hallway he grabbed his grandfather's ornamental sword from where it hung proudly on the wall. Gripping it tightly he walked back into his bed-chamber, hoping the assailant wouldn't notice his hands trembling and realise he didn't know how to use the sword. All he had to do was convince this man he could kill him; keep him there until one of the servants saw what was going on and summoned the appropriate help.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak the man turned, dropping his small box when he spotted Howard and looking at him in fear. A common thief, perhaps, not expecting to be caught? He certainly knew of several houses which had been robbed; the poor it seemed had no qualms about taking what was not rightfully theirs.

"Who are you and what, exactly, are you doing in my home?"

The man stared at him. Howard tried to maintain eye contact and look frightening, but it wasn't easy. His whole life he'd been so careful not to get into any fights, not to stand up to people. Life tended to be a lot easier if you just coasted through unnoticed.

"Listen mate…" The man began. Howard couldn't place the accent. In fact; everything about this man seemed odd - his hair was unlike any style Howard had seen, and his clothes looked tighter than was surely comfortable; and yet they did not look ill fitting. It was almost as if a tailor somewhere had designed it that way. He spoke more like a commoner and yet had the pale skin of a noble. "Listen, yeah, I dunno who you are but this is not your home."

"Of course it is." Howard swallowed, clutching his weapon tighter. "I've lived here all my life, as has my father before me and his father before him. And my sons shall live here after I'm gone."

"Oh shit…um, listen, maybe I should call someone?"

"Do you threaten me, sir? You have accomplices nearby?" He meant to sound intimidating, but his voice rose to a very un-manly squeak when he said 'nearby'.

The man frowned. "No…I mean like a hospital. On the phone?"

"Phone?"

"Yeah."

"And what exactly is a 'phone'?"

The man picked up his box and carefully threw it to him. Howard put down his sword on the nearby table and picked it up, frowning uncomprehendingly at the small screen. He looked up to demand an explanation from this man but he wasn't looking at him. His eyes were still fixed on the sword and he looked thoroughly confused.

Vince threw his mobile to the man, hoping desperately this was just some elaborate mugging and he'd just pick it up and run. Because dealing with a madman was not something he wanted to do. Especially a madman with a sword. Especially a madman with a sword to whom he'd just given his phone. The man put his sword down on a table and picked up the phone. Vince held his breath. If he didn't run now then this could be seriously dangerous…he'd just put down the sword on a table. The table which wasn't really there. Vince stared at it. Were this man and his weapon a hallucination too, then? But then how could he be holding his mobile phone? Vince's eyes flicked back to the man who was watching him.

"What's your name, sir?"

"What?"

"Your name?"

"I'm…" he took in the man's old fashioned attire. If he was crazy then perhaps he should just play along. "Vincent." he paused.

"Well Vincent." he walked towards him. Vince's eyes widened in fear as he realised the man had just walked over the large hole. Maybe he wasn't real after all. "Seeing as you haven't taken anything yet that I can notice, and you appear thin and hungry, I think I can forgive this intrusion. Leave now and I won't call anyone for assistance."

Vince let out a relieved sigh. This man was letting him go! He held out his hand for his phone, but the man instead grabbed his wrist and pulled him over to the door.

"No!"

The man looked back at him, confused. Vince stared at him, eyes wide, before looking down at the floor. There shouldn't be anything to hold him up where he was standing, he should have fallen straight through to the room below.

And yet the floor was there. It was solid.

It was real.