The bell over the door of the small antique shop tinkled as john limped his way inside, his cane an ever constant companion at his side. The thumps echoed hollowly in the near deserted shop as john made his way further in. The shop was nothing special and there was no reason for him to even have entered. Except one. The display at the window was showing off a variety of trinkets and knick knacks, but through the clutter he saw something interesting. A sturdy oak table sat just behind the window display, covered with a frilly lace table cloth. But it wasn't the table or the awful cover that held his attention.

about a dozen hand mirrors sat face up displaying their shining surfaces, all in various sizes and types of metal and color but those held little interest for him. The center held one lone mirror face down. A beautifully rendered raven, mid flight, was engraved on the back. John approached the table and reached out to run a finger along the back. The mirror seemed to hum with untapped energy. He picked it up and turned it over

The mirror itself wasn't as ornate as some of the others on the table, but John thought it was nicely wrought in silver with tarnished etchings running along the sleek curves around the face. It wasn't heavy for its size, but is wasn't light either. It was large enough that is would be awkward to carry around with you wherever you went, but not so big as to discourage the same. John scowled at his reflection in the shining surface, wondering why he was drawn to and even considering purchasing such an item. It was most likely out of his price range anyway, with his army pension. He was about to set it back on the table without even looking at the price tag when a croaking voice interrupted his musings.

"Ah, I see you've taken a liking to that mirror." the old man glanced at the piece before quickly darting his eyes back up to John's. "You have a good eye. We have a special price on that one in particular." The shop keeper seemed nervous as his eyes darted back and forth between the mirror and john. He rung his hands in and anxious gesture he didn't even seem to be aware of, not that John noticed either.

John grimaced and tried to put it down again. His hand didn't seem to want to let it go. "Even with a special price, I doubt I would be able to afford it."

The shop keeper seemed annoyed for a split second before composing himself and putting on, what John was sure, what was his most convincing sales smile. "Well if you cannot afford free, then you must be in rough shape my boy!"

John straightened and looked at the man incredulously. "You mean to tell me, that this mirror is free?" John could feel a catch. The man seemed way too eager to get rid of it. Even as that thought came, John was finding it harder and harder to tell himself to put it down and leave the shop. "Look, I may not know much about antiques, but I know something valuable when I see it, and this mirror must be worth hundreds of pounds." the man was starting to sweat. "So forgive me if I'm a bit skeptical. Whats in it for you?"

"that mirror has never stayed in the same hands long. Anyone I sell it to brings it back saying that it doesn't work like a mirror should." he shook his head in exasperation. "a mirror not working properly! How can that even be possible? Now, I've been trying to get rid of it for a long time and no one will even look at it! You are the first in months." the man now had a determined look on his face. "so please, take it."

john was still skeptical. "But-"

"Just take it! I can't take his incessant nattering anymore!" The shop keepers smooth facade slid off his face like water on an oil-slicked surface. "I get enough of that from my wife as it is, I don't need any more! And he keeps rearranging my shop, I don't like it! Now if you please, take that blasted thing and out with you!" with that he shoved the mirror back at John's chest and shooed him to the door. Sputtering, John allowed himself to be shooed. It wasn't until the door was closed in his face and the lock engaged did he register what the man had said.

He? Who is he?

John was was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice his cane was missing until he was on the tube back to his bedsit. The realization should have shocked him, but all he felt was a numb sort of relief. He still had the mirror clutched to his chest in a death grip like someone was going try and take it from him. He tried to bring his arms down to rest in his lap to no avail. It's like his body was so paranoid that it would be stolen that it was trying to guard it at all costs. He shook his head ruefully. One valuable item in his possession and he felt like the world was out to get him.

A transfer and one crowded carriage later, John was walking up to unlock the door of his bedsit. The crowded carriage had been particularly bad, as his suspicion and paranoia were amplified by the object held to his chest. He had checked to make sure he still had his browning several times. He knew he was acting silly but no matter how many times he tried to calm down, the feelings always came back full throttle. It was an effort to un-pry his fingers to be able to unlock the door but once he was inside and the door shut and bolted behind him he was able to relax and loose some of the tension that had built up on the ride home.

John walked into the small room that consisted only of his bed, a small desk and wardrobe. He placed the mirror gingerly on the desk so it was facing the room, sat on his bed and stared at it for a good five minutes. He then realized he was being ridiculous and got up to start his evening routine. He walked over to the wardrobe to change into his pajamas.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?"

John whirled to face the intruder, the browning coming into his hand like it was second nature. Only to find no one there. Confused, he started to slowly put his gun back into his belt. The voice came again.

"I dislike repeating myself. Afghanistan or Iraq?"

John was turning in a fast circle and sweeping the room for anywhere an intruder could hide.

"...Afghanistan." John said with reluctance. "who-"

"For god's sake, I'm over here!" John, who had still been circling in place, turned to where the nearly shouted statement had come from. He stared at his desk not really comprehending what he was seeing. In the reflection of the mirror propped against the wall on his desk, standing right behind him was a man. A very tall man with wild curly hair, piercing blue eyes, and cheekbones you could cut yourself on. Not that John would notice such things on a man, it was just that he was so striking and the situation was so bizarre that his mind registered everything about it. The image was so clear that he had to check just to make sure no one was there. There wasn't. John gulped.

"Who- no what are you?" John asked the mirror with a surprisingly steady voice "Are you a ghost?"

The man in the mirror rolled his eyes. He mumbled something about seeing but not observing under his breath.

"No I am not a ghost. I physically exist, just not in the world you currently reside in. My world is the same as yours except the fact that it is in reverse." He sounded as though he had explained this all a million times before. "I can go anywhere this mirror is taken and interact with anything that is in view with a few exceptions." to demonstrate, he pulled the chair out from the desk, spun it around and sat astride it. At the same moment john's own chair was pulled and spun around in the same manor. That was something that shook him more than the man in the mirror himself. Just then something the old shop keeper said came back to him at that moment.

"He said you'd been rearranging his shop. I didn't know what he meant until now" John's laugh had an almost hysterical edge to it.

"He was annoying. I had to do something to ease the boredom!" John gave him a rueful look. Something else occurred to him then.

"Is that why you were face down then?" a sulky pout appeared in the mans face. "all the others were face up."

"I... may have gone a bit too far." the pout was still present and didn't look like it was going to leave any time soon. Also he didn't seem like he was going to elaborate. Just as well, he didn't want to know what the man had done to warrant the shopkeeper's wrath.

"You said a few exceptions. What are those?" John really was curious, if still a bit wary.

"I cannot touch or move my own mirror, and I cannot interact with the people in the reflection unless given strict consent." the man looked thoughtfully at John for a moment before looking away to study the room. "This place is horrid. I have a flat in London that would be much better." the topic of conversation changed so fast it almost gave john whiplash.

"Wait, you have a flat? How is that even possible?" John was

He looked at John in annoyance. "Someone owed me a favor, now if you please?" he looked expectant, like it was common for people to do exactly as he liked when he liked. If it wasn't already dark out John knew he would have obeyed the silent command.

"Wait, you want to go now? No way, it's the middle of the night, I don't even know your name and you want to go look at a flat?" It was John's turn to look expectant.

"The name is Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221 B Baker street." Sherlock looked a little put out that they were not leaving right then and there.

"Right well, nice to meet you Sherlock Holmes, I'm John Watson." John held out his hand to shake. Sherlock stared at him like he was an idiot.

"Didn't you hear me earlier? I can't touch you unless you give consent."

"Ah, right." Feeling abashed at forgetting already, John dropped his hand with a grimace. Giving a man like sherlock that much power over him when they had just met didn't seem like a very good idea. Shaking his head, he cleared his throat and spoke again. "We can go first thing in the morning, but for now I need to get some sleep." He moved to change his clothes again, but thought better of it. He looked over his shoulder to the mirror on his desk. Sherlock was still sitting calmly in the desk chair, casually looking about the room. "do you mind?"

Sherlock looked him dead in the eye, and in the blandest voice imaginable, replied. "Not at all." he did not move from where he was seated. In fact, he seemed to make himself more comfortable. Seeing this, John sighed in exasperation and gathered his sleep clothes. He would change in the bathroom. By the time he came back out into the room proper, everything was back to how it was before his surprise guest showed up, and the mirror was empty but for the reflections that were supposed to be there.

John's night passed normally from that point on, despite the constant checking for the strange man and anything that would signal his presence. He eventually fell into a restless sleep.

–

The sound of rapid gun fire was deafening.

The heat and smell of blood clogged his throat

Dead men littered the ground but there were some still alive, groaning in pain.

A man a few paces away was alive. John leaned over to try to stop the bleeding.

Pain. Fear. Blazing sun over head.

Please god let me live.

–

John woke with a start, panting. His night shirt clung to him uncomfortably. The horrors of Afghanistan were pushed back into the recesses of his mind as he picked at his damp shirt. John sighed as he peeled off the sweaty garment and flung It into the hamper. He would have to do the washing soon. He was just starting to get his breath back when Sherlock spoke.

"Oh good, you're awake. Get dressed so we can go." John just looked at him for a moment, uncomprehending. Then with a start, He heaved himself up and moved to the lue.

"We can go after I've had a shower and some breakfast." Yawning, He stretched as he moved. As John was closing the door he heard something about food and transport but the door snapped shut before he could make any sense of it. He showered quickly and efficiently, wrapping a towel around his waist when he stepped out of the basin. He moved over to the sink to shave and brush his teeth. He worked the shaving foam into a lather and spread it evenly around his face and neck. One swipe, then two, rinsing the blades between each. He glanced at the sink to rinse the blade for a third time. He looked back up and gave a start.

"JESUS-" the razor slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor as John clutched a hand to his chest. Sherlock stared back at him with indifference. "Sherlock what the hell are you doing in here? And HOW?"

"Oh didn't I mention that before? I can also travel through any mirrors in the near vicinity." Johns heart beat was just starting to slow back down when he answered.

"No, you most certainly did not say that." John ground his teeth "And intruding in the Bathroom while in use is a bit not good." John stared hard at sherlock who was pretending he wasn't being watched. John knocked on the mirror the get his attention back on him. When Sherlock's cool gaze swung back to his, John could have sworn he looked abashed. At least a little. But it was gone before he could make anything of it. "Now that I have your attention again, get out. I'll be done in a moment" Sherlock held up his hands in a playacting gesture and vanished from sight. John bent to pick up his razor from the floor to finish shaving. He could already tell this was going to be a long day.