Author's Note: This is my first fanfic ever. I love Iron Man and Sherlock Holmes so much, and finally I can write this out. I do not own anything except for my OC, and everyone enjoy. Please review and give your thoughts.


I calculated the odds of surprisingly meeting the one man I never expected, Sherlock Holmes. I was also able to predict his reaction to me, that I'd be "included," at least by Watson. It was wonderful to have him on my side when I gave the winning clue for a mystery plaguing Holmes.

Of course, the fact I was a woman pretending to be a male in 19th century England, and convincing as a male at that, didn't help temper Holmes' dislike.

I, Tatiana, felt his dislike and want for me to fail many times over. What I never prepared for was to escape from my reality of the Marvel Universe away from Tony Stark to see him again, not that he would realize.

"We have a guest. Perhaps you would care to meet him, out of that dreadful male clothing you choose to wear?" Sherlock asked.

"I will meet him, but not on your conditions," I muttered in the British accent he hated. He rarely spoke to me, but I had an inkling something was up, and I wanted to get to the bottom of it.

"And get rid of that fake British accent! He's American, you have no one to perform for!" he added coldly, watching my reaction of disdain at his comments.

Ignoring him completely because my accent wasn't "fake" at all (I am credited as a decent actress after all), I walked into the room and saw Sherlock's bemused expression at my shocked face to the person at the window.

"Tony!" I choked out. This could not be happening. How the hell did he follow me, and how did he find me?

"My, my, I don't know you yet, but you really can work that outfit... How about you move a little closer so I can see all of your... assets better," he noted unabashedly and winked.

Suddenly composing myself because Holmes was watching me so closely, I casually asked, "Haven't we met before?"

Then, staring at him, the truth came crashing down on me. Where I had just left, the 21st century where I belonged, I cared about Tony. We were close, good friends. The Tony in this room was not the one I knew yet.

He, in his "past," was meeting me, for the first time. This was before he became acquainted with me as Iron Man to protect me, before our friendship began. I saw it in the way he looked at me, and the lack of recognition in his eyes. He was on the same timeline as my Tony, but he fell into this Sherlockian reality like I did. In my head, all the characteristics and little pieces of the Tony I knew were on a checklist, and barely anything I sensed displayed the Tony I cared for.

"I'm beginning to like 19th century England a lot..." Tony claimed as he strutted closer to me. Sherlock simply stared at the scene before him and had that damned amused look on his smug face.

Sherlock wanted me to learn about Tony by "falling" for his charms, and in the process get knocked down from the pedestal people had of me as a comparison to Holmes.

Tony didn't know who I was, and therefore wanted to... ruffle all my feathers, something to do more with pleasure than anger.

I wanted to trip them both up, big time, and gain some footing again.

This was going to be... shall we say...interesting.