A/N: Hey! You probably don't recognise me, right? Well I'm old to this fandom, but new to writing it. I'm only on The Sign of Four (at the moment) so please correct me if I get information wrong. A good portion comes from here, so it could always be wrong. I'm also sorry if Holmes and Watson are OOC and such. Again, only on TSOF.
Anywho, I hope you can, to the very least, semi-enjoy my (friends) crackpot theories.
It was a crackpot idea, but it was a crackpot idea that worked.
My best friend, Laura Saunderson, was by far the single most brilliant person I had ever met in my twelve years of life, and she was a mere two years older than I.
She was a natural philosophic, coming up with odd and abstract theories that it would take others over three times her age yearsto think up, test, and perfect, where it took her mere days, sometimes hours. Her mind was one that I was rather sure rivaled that of Sherlock Holmes, possibly even Mycroft, in all areas except deduction, in which she was slightly behind the two. Where she lacked in deductive prowess she made up for in ability to grasp ideas that would have made the usual teenagers - nay, adults! - world turn on its axis and, in turn, likely put them in a mental institute a few moments after the idea was, to the very least partially, wrapped around. My personal favorite of hers was dimensional travel.
It was rather simple, when being explained, though I could not myself. I can do it, and believe me when I say I have many, many times, but if I tried an explanation I'm rather sure I would become to first person to be sent jabbering to the loony bin by her, unintentional, hand. All I knew was that when I did it exactly how she'd explained, I ended up staring my favorite fictional character in the face while they gave me a disbelieving look at having just popped up in their study or room. It was rather fun to do, I must admit.
The thing that would get us into our most interesting development thus far would be her newest obsession – eh, theory. Time travel.
Once again, it was simple when explained, but if I tried it came out sounding as if I were mad and speaking pure gibberish. Being myself, I never dared since I gained enough odd looks with my usual personality anyway. I was by no means ashamed of it, I was actually rather proud of my loud manner (which obviously doesn't show much in my writing), it was merely that they got rather… laborious after a while and I did what I could without shielding my character too much to avoid them.
It was a Saturday - April the second, to be precise – and we were both sitting in the backyard of Laura's house on Aaron Way beside the clubhouse that had been there upon their move. 'Fort Liberty', we called it, coming up with the name with her older brother and one of his friends, and had quickly nailed a small plank of wood to a stake and painted the words on it before placing just beside the ladder that rose to the actual room. We, being Laura and I, her brother not being home at the time to join us, were actually just by the sign, which I found a trifle odd for some reason but said nothing.
"So you see if you simply do something that will involve your heightened sense – taste – before going to sleep tonight that will remind you of Sherlock Holmes or the era we should both find ourselves just outside 221B in proper Victorian attire!" I raised an eyebrow at this, for once somber. She paid me no mind, instead suggesting some scones her mother had made a few days previous and then allowing the both of us to do it for ourselves. She already had on several occasions, as you can guess, so I was rather desperately running to catch up. On occasion I had to admit, I loathed her. Loathed her with a cold, cruel passion, though when I said so we both knew it would end in jest and play fighting. Again. I rolled my eyes at the thought.
After quickly finishing off a good half of what was left of the batch of scones (taking three apiece) we hurried up to her room, quickly partaking in the first step of time traveling.
It wasn't the having to fall asleep thing that was hard, but more so doing the right things once I was.
The sound of horses trotting and carriages, along with rainfall on the roof and windows. That was what I awoke to. It took me another few moments to register the fact that I was no longer on the floor of Laura's room, instead on what felt to be a couch with possibly a blanket over me. There were voices above me, one British, another British with a hint of Scottish, and the final being Laura putting on her best British tones, which were incredibly good considering she had never even heard one in person. But who were the other two voices?
I couldn't make out what they were saying, my mind still in too much of a fog, but I could swear I felt a hand on my chest. Checking my heart rate? I opened my eyes; just enough to see but not enough to be able to distinguish that I was really awake. Unfamiliar hazel eyes met my brown ones and it took me a moment to realize what must have happened.
I did it.
My eyes snapped open completely of their own accord and I sat up quickly, knocking my forehead with who had been checking my heart rate. "Ouch!" I muttered, putting a hand to my head. Okay, not the smartest thing in the world to do. I learned my lesson: never sit up when someone's above you.
I took my hand off and looked at who I had just clashed heads with. My eyes widened and I very nearly couldn't stop my jaw from dropping. I recognized them. I recognized them in an instant. It was the very man who my best friend always said I was to her. It was the man whom I idolized. It was the man Laura and I had been trying to prove actually existed for the past week with cold, hard research and was currently succeeding. It was Dr. John Watson.
I'm rather sure I would have screamed in joy at the facts that I had time traveled for the first time and was currently starring at who I was rather sure I was the female reincarnation of had I not thought of the fact that Laura had probably spent the last who-knew-how-long making a cover up for our being there in the first place.
I looked in the direction of Holmes' chair (as I could, by now, make my way around 221B with my eyes shut from all the research of layout) and was moderately surprised to find Laura on it. A delighted smirk lit up her face and she mouthed 'alias seven' to me. Wonderful choice, I had to admit, and one we had just come up with a month or so earlier when my mother started looking into my family roots. I would have to thank her for doing that later.
Laura walked over to me, all traces of the smirk wiped clean off her features, replaced by a look of slight confusion combined with a small apologetic smile. I nearly burst out laughing, as the expression was not one that I was used to on her face and it really wasn't very becoming of her. "Terribly sorry, Doctor. She usually awakens like this-" I nearly scoffed at the ridiculous lie. "-and I should have warned you." I offered an apologetic smile of my own.
Watson cleared his throat, blinking at a slightly more rapid pace than normal. "Its fine, Miss Pierce. Perfectly understandable." He said, and for a moment I wondered if Sherlock was even in and if I had merely imagined his voice, for I had not seen nor heard him as of yet.
Then I heard it.
Footsteps, quiet ones, going back and forth. Quick, long strides, making the person taller than Watson but I couldn't find the exact height. I breathed in through my mouth, though immediately started hacking. Pipe smoke. Curse my ability to taste things just by opening my mouth in their presence! Although it may have been a good thing considering it meant I would never, ever consider smoking or drinking now. Still, the taste was absolutely horrible and I was rather sure I might lose my lunch if I dared to even open my mouth again.
The hacks died down in a matter of seconds, before someone could do anything, and I prepared myself to leave the room. Watson placed a hand on my shoulder, keeping me down. "Are you alright?" He asked, his face betraying a hint of worry. I nodded quickly.
"Just need some fresh air." I said, and I felt bile rising in my throat. This was worse than my uncle's wretched cigar smoke!
The Doctor nodded, giving the pacing figure I had yet to see but could still picture in my mind's eye a quick and mildly withering glare. I smiled slightly, getting up and making my way towards the door and I could just hear Laura whispering to the pipe smoker about my 'sensitivity'. I giggled quietly in the hall for a moment before the Doctor was there to greet me.
He placed a hand on my shoulder, looking me straight in the eyes. "Are you positive you're alright? You look a bit ill." I nodded, parting my lips slightly and breathing in deeply through my mouth in an attempt to get rid of the lingering taste of tobacco on my tongue. I was not only relived, but mildly surprised to that the air tasted like a combination of ginger and mint in the Doctors presence. That was certainly something I had not anticipated.
I could feel my brows furrowing in confusion and I took another breath. Yes, it was definitely ginger and mint, and if I focused I could taste the smallest hint of wild strawberries as well. "Odd," I couldn't help but mutter to myself. "Very odd." Now it was Watson's turn to be confused.
"What's odd?" He questioned, and I blushed, looking down at my shoes instead of his face.
"N-nothing. Just… something in the air." I loved telling the complete, vague truth. It added no weight to my conscious and the other person still didn't get any hints to what I was saying. I also suddenly realized that I was suddenly using my Scottish/Irish accent where I hadn't been before. Dangit.
Watson raised an inquisitive eyebrow, apparently not noticing the change in accents considering his next statement. "And what, exactly, is in the air?" Double dang. Most people would have just let it go, but of course that was me not thinking again. The man had lived with the Sherlock Holmes for Lord-knew-how-long for Heaven's sake! He had to have picked something up to the very least.
I started to stutter out unintelligent excuses, not wanting both Holmes and Watson (if Laura had told Holmes the truth, which I doubted) to know about my heightened sense. It was stupid, but I had only told Laura about it, and I most certainly wasn't going to tell anyone about it in the past. Watson silenced me with a look that reminded me of my mother when I tell her Laura and I have been talking about dimensional travel. It's that look that makes me tell him. At least partially, anyway.
I lean in closer to him, my nose mere inches from his chest, and I open my mouth again and inhale deeply. "It's definitely coming from you." I confirm eyes closed as I take in the sweet flavor. I quickly come back up to my full height, once again out of what I'm sure was the Doctors personal space which I so rudely invaded. He raises an eyebrow at me again.
"What is coming from me?" He said in an almost exasperated manner. I smiled slightly.
"Well, ginger, mint and a small hint of wild strawberries." I answer, not bothering to elaborate. Watson sniffed the air and he looked down at me curiously and for the first time I realize he's around the same height as my brother.
"I don't smell anything." My grin turns crooked.
"Nor do I," I respond, turning back to the sitting room, which hopefully no longer reeks of tobacco. "But I do, however, taste something." And with that, I walked back in a took a seat in Watson's usual chair across from Laura, the crooked grin still on my face, and the look of puzzlement on my past lives (because I really do think I'm his reincarnation and Laura is Holmes') face permanently etched in my mind. Life was good.
Yeah... Crackpot scientist in making writing this fic right here. And possibly a good future sci-fi author. Anyway, crit is always welcome. No useless reviews!
Edit: Wow... One reveiw... Don't I just feel loved?
Seriously though, minor edits made to the chapter where I noticed a few mistakes. That's all I wanted to say.