"Hmm…" I muttered, still half asleep. I rolled over in my bed, but it wasn't my bed. It wasn't even my couch. I frowned without opening my eyes. None of my family smoked, and yet I could swear I smelled smoke.
" 'Hmm' what?" asked an unfamiliar voice, seemingly directly over my head. I jumped, and my eyes flew open. I found myself gazing into the eyes of a complete, or so I thought at the moment, stranger, in a completely unknown household. The stranger had a pipe in his mouth, and was dressed as though from another time-period. I held back the startled cry that rose in my throat, though I was sure everyone in the room could hear my heartbeat. I attempted to calm my breathing down, but failed. The figure above me seemed quite amused.
"I-I… How…" I tried to speak, but couldn't find the words. The strange man silenced me with a finger and laid a hand on my shoulder. He was obviously trying to calm me down, but was so far failing. It took me a moment, but I eventually calmed myself down enough to be able to take in my surroundings. I recognized everything at once. The armchair drawn up by the fire, the picture of a certain woman on the mantle, and especially the man who had just seated himself next to me on the Victorian sofa. I had somehow ended up at 221b Baker Street, with Sherlock Holmes sitting next to me.
"You…" I muttered. I could hardly believe what was happening. Had it really worked? Was it possible? If so, what was I going to tell Angela? Would she even believe me?
"What about me?" Holmes asked, startling me out of deep thought.
"You-your… Sh-Sherlock Holmes!" I blurted. I couldn't help but realize how idiotic I must have sounded. After all, if it had worked, he wasn't legendary yet. But I couldn't help the fact that he was the Sherlock Holmes.
"Yes," he replied, "and you are?"
I could barely breathe now. I couldn't risk my real name, could I? What difference would it make? I thought quickly, and went with the first name that came to mind. "You can call me Julia Peirce," I said with practiced ease. My friend Angela and I had practiced using fake names in case the need ever arose to use them without appearing to be lying.
"That will do for now," he replied, a slight smile touching his features, "I'll get the truth out of you eventually." If anyone could drag the truth out of a hidden lie, it was Sherlock Holmes. I sighed, partly with frustration and partly in submission.
"Fine. My name isn't Julia Pierce, its Laura Saunderson." That much was easy. If I tried to explain where I had come from, he would think I was insane. Hopefully he wouldn't pry that far until I had a good idea of how to explain my situation without sounding like a lunatic.
Holmes nodded, and I sighed inwardly out of relief. Apparently he was saving the important questions for later. He suddenly rose from his seat and began pacing. "You are not from this time-period," he began, apparently not needing to ask questions to get answers. This could either be very good, or very bad. "You are from the future. Your clothing is not of this time-period, and not of the past. Your name isn't very popular in this era either, not to mention I have never heard of the Saundersons. It isn't an English name, which leads me to believe that you weren't born in England. Most likely you were born in the United States. AM I right so far?" He had stopped pacing and was now facing me, gazing intently into my eyes.
"Completely," I muttered. "You can under NO circumstances tell ANYONE about this. They will either think me insane or question my ability of time travel. If you need to talk to me about it in public, refer to it as 'Emit Levart', backwards for time travel. The only people who know so far are you, a friend of mine, and me. I trust this secret with you. You of all people should understand that this ability in the hands of the wrong people could and most likely would result in chaos." During my speech, Holmes had listened intently.
"Your secret is safe. Not even my good friend, Dr. Watson, will know about it," he swore. Something in his eyes told me he was thinking the same thing that I was. Moriarty.