*Credit to the character creators*

*Sorry the first chapter is so short, but I'll be posting chapter two with it, so it'll all be okay.*

Chapter One:

The museum basement was wet and dark. Not a place a person would ever want to be at around midnight. However, one man wandered through the aisles of ancient pottery and wax models. A gentle drip of water boomed in the background of the quiet building. The man stopped for a moment, looking both ways before picking up his phone.

Light from the screen reflected onto his face as he scrolled through the current weather reports for the town he was in. It was eleven degrees Celsius with a ninety- two percent change of rain, but that report didn't make sense. As far as he had knew the day was sunny and twenty-one degrees Celsius.

The man shut off his phone screen angrily and shoved the device into his pocket. He tried to think of what happened. One moment he was on a rooftop gloating over his greatest victory and the next… he was here in this building.

He sighed and let out a deep breath. He'd been in worse situations before, and at least this was interesting. How could a person just magically appear in a different location without their knowledge? As far as he could tell, he had not been poisoned. He hadn't been captured. He simply was… transported. That sounded too insane to be a possible answer, but he didn't rule out that option out yet. It was unlikely, but still plausible in an insane sort of way. But what if it was insane. He was insane. Insanity isn't really that bad once a person gets used to it.

The man pulled his phone out once more. He was going to have to get out of this museum and find a place to regroup.

"Good evening, Sir. Can I help you?" The man behind the desk was ordinary, so painstakingly ordinary. Everything from how he stood, reminding himself every so often to keep a straight back to how he kept glancing at the clock, obviously waiting for his shift to end. It was pathetic.

"Yes actually," he drawled, the words slipping off his tongue like liquid taffy. "I'd like a room."

"Of course, sir. Do you have a reservation?" The hotel worker was so boring, but most humans were.

"I don't." He kept his answers short and simple. It was best not to give out too many details in case he forgot them later.

"Let me check if we have any empty rooms." The worker bent down, examining the computer screen for extra rooms. His eyes kept flickering up to the stranger's face.

"Oh just get out with it. What do you want to ask me?" The man was in no mood to play games. He needed to think, be away from people like the hotel worker.

"I'm sorry Sir. You just look an awful lot like Andrew Scott." The worker was blushing and playing with papers on the front desk to hide his embarrassment.

"Andrew Scott?" The man asked, cocking his head. He'd never heard of the name before.

"Yeah. Andrew Scott. He's an actor, who played Moriarty on Sherlock. I guess you're not him. You just look really similar." The hotel worker grinned at him sheepishly, before turning back to the computer screen. The man stared at the hotel worker with a shocked expression. How could such a commonplace man know his name? "Uhh- There's an open room on the third floor. Is that okay?"

"That will be sufficient. Thank you." The man waited for the room key to be handed to him.

"James Mor-" The man cut himself short. He couldn't say his name was Moriarty. Apparently it was recognizable, and he couldn't allow that. "Moran. My name is James Moran."