Author's note : Yes, another fic. :) Brand new story. Post Reichenbach. Sherlock returns to London to find that the London he left behind is long gone and has been replaced by an alternate universe.
Fantasy!lock.
It has not been written by me. I'm only uploading it on the behalf of my friend Aditya who I think is a brilliant author.
Please read and review!
Disclaimer : In this case, I own nothing except the works in bold. Everything else belongs to Aditya, Sir ACD, Gatiss and Moffat.
Part 1: The Tourist
Dust blew in the wind, slowly, steadily. All life was in that dust, silent and smiling.
He found himself looking around with a sense of familiarity. Yet he had no idea where he was. The last he remembered, he'd been wandering in the darkening streets of London. Then a sudden colorful psychedelic echo filled him up but he never felt it for before he could he was here, he knew not where.
He limped ahead leaning on his walking stick, a tourist of sorts. This was a magical place, he could feel it. Maybe he had seen its pictures somewhere…. twisted buildings with glass domes reflecting the twilight colors of the sky. Maybe he had dreamed of it sometime, maybe he was dreaming right now. What a place to live in, he thought. But he looked around and saw no one. In a distant park and there was no laughter, no children. No young couple decorating the benches. In the city, no men and no women, just empty streets and empty sounds and that gentle breeze trying to make some music.
He moved on, his mind straining and spinning, dancing pink in the city's familiarity and strangeness. But then he had traveled so much that everything seemed familiar to him now.
THACK!
He turned with amazing speed and saw the old man standing behind him.
"Who are you, boy?" asked the old man. He was clutching a staff in one hand; his other hand disappearing within the folds of his rich garment. His shriveled face betrayed a lifetime of experiments. And his body betrayed a suspicious amount of strength. And his eyes betrayed cunning and power and a hint of madness.
"I am a tourist who doesn't know where he is, sir," the tourist said, warily. "But it sure seems a strange place. If I may ask, who are you? And where is everybody else?"
"It's a beautiful city, my boy," the old man replied, eyes glinting and lips curling. "The most wonderful city there ever was. And everybody else, well they are gone. It's a long tale, boy; you might as well come in if you want to know".
And he followed the old man into the darkening house which was throwing nightmare shadows on the parched land. He had nothing better to do after all and a good story is always efficient bait.
Behind him the park slowly changed with time, the benches twisted and the iron hand rests began to go from black to transparent. One slow shade at a time.
A/n : And that was chapter one.
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Aditi xoxoxo