Chapter 1

"Bilbo! Stop lagging behind!"

He scowled, looking down toward his feet, his head down as he continued to walk. Thorin was very demanding as of late. It was always,"Don't do that," or "Do this now". There was no happy middle ground with Thorin. Bilbo figured that it was probably from the stress that he was facing. Each day they were getting closer to Smaug's lair, and Bilbo knew that Thorin was still trying to figure out a way to successfully take the dragon down.

Bilbo reached down and slipped his hand into his pocket. He fingered the ring there, feeling the power pulsing from it. He desperately wanted to just put the ring on, to slip away from all of this, but he knew he couldn't. At least not now. If he tried to do it now, the party he was traveling with would realize he had it. As it was, he was already paranoid that Gandalf suspected he had it. Luckily, Gandalf was not at the moment with them.

Thorin pulled up short from a break, obviously irritated with how slow they had become in their pace.

"We'll never get there at this rate," commented Thorin, scowling at the dirt.

Bilbo leaned against a tree at the back of the pack, eyes watching Thorin carefully. The ring seemed to be calling at him at this point. Maybe he'd be able to sneak away from the group, even if it was just for a moment. He just desperately wanted to satisfy this longing for power within him.

Slowly, Bilbo started to pack up toward the edge of the forest, starting to slip into the shelter of the trees. At this point, Thorin was busy yelling at the other Dwarves in the party. He wouldn't notice that Bilbo was missing for a minute or two.

Bilbo slipped a ways back into the trees, still walking backwards. Perfect. The trees were so close together at this point that they would be able to obscure him very well. Just as he was about to reach into his pocket for the ring, he backed up over a large tree root. Trying to maintain his balance, he flipped backward. He expected to land on the forest floor. Instead, he found himself falling through empty space. He reached for the edge of the dirt hole and managed to grab the edge with one hand. He held on tight, turning to look over his shoulder at the hole that was under him.

The hole was so deep, he couldn't see the end of it. He gulped, trying to steady his nerves. So this was the end. He knew that he had wandered too far away from the group too, that even if he tried to yell for help, they wouldn't hear him. If anything heard him, it would be a troll.

He could feel his grip on the edge of the hole becoming weaker. Panicking, he tried to swing his body so that his other hand could grasp the edge, but failed to. One by one, his fingers started to come free of the edge. He closed his eyes as his last finger slipped off. He didn't want to see himself fall.

Bilbo fell down the hole, his eyes squeezed shut tight. He didn't want to see himself die.

"John, any new cases?" asked Sherlock, leaning back in his chair, his legs crossed.

John clicked on the blog, scrolling through the entries that popped up.

"Well, there are quite a few here, but I don't think they are any that will peak your interest."

"You're probably right."

Sherlock took a deep breath, and let it out in a long sigh.

"We need a client, John. I will go crazy without one."

"Did you call the Yard? Mycroft?"

"No and no. Why call them when they'd call me if they had a case? It would just lead to disappointment."

As if on cue, the phone started to ring. John reached over and picked up the phone, placing it to his ear.

"John Watson."

He listened to the person on the other end of the line, nodding once in a while. Sherlock watched him, steepling his hands in front of his face, trying to figure out who was on the other line.

Soon John hung up and looked at Sherlock with a smile.

"Well, that was Lestrade. You have a case."

Sherlock immediately jumped up from his chair, going over to shrug into his coat.

"Great. What happened? Murder? Supposed Suicide? Robbery?"

John shook his head as he shut his laptop down, putting his own coat on.

"Well, what is it?"

"Delusional man that just appeared out of no where, spewing nonsense."

Sherlock paused, looking at John.

"And they need us?"

"Well, like I said, he appeared out of no where. Lestrade can't seem to make him speak common sense. He was hoping that you could figure something out."

"So this is what I've been reduced to. A shrink for the insane?"

John chuckled, rolling his eyes.

"You should be happy that it's at least something. You've been itching to get out."

Sherlock sighed, nodding.

"You're right. I suppose I should go see just what kind of nut we have to deal with."

Sherlock turned, walking out of the flat and outdoors to wave down a cab. John stood beside him, hands in his pocket.

"I think you might be better at dealing with this situation than me," admitted Sherlock.

John turned to look at Sherlock in shock as the cab pulled to a stop.

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Because you're the doctor," said Sherlock as he slipped into the cab.

John slipped in beside him and told the cabbie the address. Soon the cab was in motion.

"Well, just because I'm a doctor doesn't mean you won't be able to figure things out."

He just nodded, not saying much. He was already wandering through his mind palace, no doubt trying to get himself ready for what was awaiting them.

When they arrived, Sherlock got out. They were outside an old sewing factory. The building was sagging so much that it looked almost like the letter 'U'. On the sidewalk were a whole bunch of police detectives from the Yard, along with Lestrade. Lestrade stood with his hands behind his back, talking to a man that laid on one of the hospital stretchers, gesturing wildly.

Sherlock and John walked over to him. As they approached, the man's head turned to face the two of them. His eyes held a look of absolute fear. Sherlock smirked a bit as he looked at the man. If you didn't take into account the man's clothing, dirtiness, or his longish hair, he looked like John. He turned his head to the side to see if John was recognizing the resemblance. Apparently he did because he had his jaw open a bit. Sherlock smirked even wider.

"Have we found your twin, John?" asked Sherlock as he stopped a couple inches away from the man on the stretcher.

The man just looked at Sherlock and then at John. He focused on John, his eyes growing wider with horror.

"Who are you?" asked the man.

"My name is John and this is Sherlock," replied John. "Who are you?"

"Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins."

Lestrade huffed a sigh, turning to face Sherlock and John.

"Afraid he must have bumped his head in there," said Lestrade, jerking a thumb behind his shoulder at the sewing factory. "He thinks he's a fictional character."

Sherlock snorted, rolling his eyes. He really was about to deal with a nut.

"Did you bump your head?"

"I might have a bit when I landed, but I swear I'm not making my identity up."

Sherlock studied Bilbo closely.

"So, you're Bilbo Baggins?"

"Yes."

"Show me your mystical ring then."

Bilbo gulped in panic. How did he know about the ring?

"I want to see the mystical ring that you took from Gollum."

"You read 'The Hobbit'?" asked John, looking at Sherlock in surprise.

He shrugged.

"I watched the movies."

"W-what ring?" asked Bilbo, trying to play stupid.

"Don't give me that. If you're really who you claim to be, you'll have the ring."

Bilbo had placed his hand by the ring pocket without even realizing it. Sherlock saw him do that, and grinned.

"Is it in that pocket?"

Bilbo shook his head quickly. Too quickly for Sherlock. He knew he was right.

"Show me. If you want my help, you need to show me."

"Who said I need help?" asked Bilbo.

"You obviously need help if you're on a stretcher, clearly confused and in fear."

He sighed, slipping his hand into his pocket. He supposed that he would just have to show Sherlock or he'd never quit bugging him. However, when he slipped his hand into his pocket to feel for the ring, it wasn't there. He immediately started to panic.

"Where is it?"

He moved his fingers all about his pocket, but it wasn't there. Sherlock quirked an eyebrow.

"Do you not have it?"

"I did, but it's not there anymore! You have to believe me."

"Sherlock, take it easy on the man. He's clearly in shock," spoke up John. "Can't you try taking a gentler approach?"

Lestrade nodded in agreement to what John said.

"John's right, Sherlock. You should take it easy on him."

Sherlock looked at Bilbo, who was at this point, sitting up, looking wildly around for his missing ring.

"I want his case," said Sherlock after a long while.

Lestrade looked at him in bewilderment.

"You want his case? Why?"

"Because he's the most interesting thing that has found its way on my doorstep in weeks," replied Sherlock with a smile. "I'm curious to see how this will turn out."

With that, Sherlock patted John's shoulder.

"Lets help your long lost twin figure out where his ring is."