From the files of the N.E.W. London Investigation 'n' Detective Agency:
We here at NEW LInDA have uncovered some very surprising information linked to one of our archived documents. This most startling news is that in fact, Sherlock Holmes, while on the chase of the infamous Jim Moriarty, mysteriously anished after following him into a local phone box (c. 1921). For many decades the beloved detective has been missing in action, until recent events have uncovered what we believe to be his fate. This document, which was discovered on the banks of the River Thames, is believed to be a narrated account of Holmes and Moriarty after they stepped through the door of the, at the time, brand new 1921 phone box. This file is one of the few intact pieces of evidence linking these two individuals with a man we know as the Doctor, or rather his Time and Relative Dimension in Space (TARDIS) device. Though we are still skeptical here at NEW LInDA, we have reasons to believe that the Doctor may not be who he says he is, and that there is a possibility that he may in fact be Mr. Sherlock Holmes himself. The Casefile 20251B codename "Doc&Lock" is top secret evidence in our ongoing investigation to find the truth about the origins of the aformentioned Doctor. Read the papers and decide for yourself. -NEW LInDA (13 June 2012)
NEW LInDA Files Archive Entry 4017-399:
Casefile [20251B] "Doc&Lock" Status: Open
Document Exhibiting Transtemporal Phenomena (TTP) Recovered from U.T.O. incident near the Eye of London 26 March 2005:
After he passed through the doorway, Sherlock stopped at the oncoming space where he had been expecting to meet Moriarty cornered in this small public phone box. Oddly, though, it seemed to extend inwards somewhat farther than it appeard on the outside. After a moment to consider this bizarre phenomenon, he quickly begins to search the darkness for any traces of where Jim had gone. Only the distant sound of large machinery could be heard.
As he closes the door and begins to wander through the dark, he can feel the sensation that someone is watching him. He pulls a torch from inside his coat and shines it around the room, revealing what appears to be a pile of unrecognizable tools and gadgets. As far as Sherlock could tell, no one had been in that room for years, 13 and a half years by the look of it. He analyzed the dust as it lay unperturbed on the surfaces of the foreign objects and tried to deduce which dirction Moriarty had taken.
Footprints traveling off to the left and down a corridor caught his attention, three well placed steps, then a slighty smeared print where it appeared whoever had made them managed to run into one of the several large boxes dotting the room before managing to find the door. Clearly they were Jims, distinctly italian leather, probably dark grey or black, size 41, just a hair too large by the looks of slightly rearticulated prints, the even steps are more accurately placed, which in any school of laterality leads to left handedness. There was no mistaking it.
Suddenly, the entire room began to shake knocking Sherlock onto the floor and stirring up the carefully placed dust. A strange whooshing sound filled the air and he scrambled to find a place to cover himself. Even he could not have anticipated the amazing, and somewhat alarming, fury with which the earth seemed to be heaving itself. Sherlock thought that there may have been something that sounded like steam releasing from an engine, but it was hard to tell in the din. Frantically he reached for a large switch that read 'Interspectral Lights' and gave it a pull.
The room burst into his eyes with so many colors, some of which he was sure didn't exist, nearly blinding him with their intense vibrance. What he saw before him in the midst of the chaos looked like an enormous metal ring covered in the most fascinating levers and buttons. Gazing at this massive... thing gave Sherlock the one feeling he was most afraid of, uncertainty. He had certainly never seen anything like this before, and he could have assured himself only moments ago that this kind of mechanical technology didn't exist anywhere in the world. Yet, here he was staring at it. Somehow through his bewilderment, he could sense an unrestrainable sensation of awe beginning to grow withing him. 'It's beautiful,' he thought to himself. A thought that had never once crossed his mind before except as something that other people felt about things. Sentiment had always been his associates' weakness, yet for once he was presented with a mystery to which he truly had no clues and the sheer magnitude of his ignorance was an utterly humbling experience.
As profound an experience as this was, he, of course, had no time for such nonsense and forced himself back to the task at hand. Logic would be the key here. He begins to think, 'First, where am I. Second, where is Moriarty. Third, what is this wonderful contraption? I can clearly see that I am in some sort of storage warehouse, although according to the floor plan of the market, I should be standing in a cart of fish. Wherever I am, I'm grateful that all of this shaking has finally stopped.'
As he tries to puzzle out his location, he hears the crash of falling metal, and the sound of what he could only imagine was arcing electricity, coming from the corridor to which Jim's footprints had led him. 'Hah, I'll be on him in less than a moment!' Sherlock thought to himself as he began to pick up speed, running for the doorway.
As he suspected, the corridor was littered with more metal parts and unfamiliar gizmos. Sherlock stubled through the mess, losing some speed in order to avoid what would be a most assuredly undashing entrance were he to fall on his face in front of his nemesis. However, Moriarty could not be far now, perhaps less than 20 metres... He stopped. The hall split into three directions, each going off around a bend so he couldn't make out more than a stones throw at best down any one of them.
His nose detects a faint trace of a cologne, thought not certain which brand, probably french, unisex, 100 pound price range. Definitely Jim's style based on his ostentatious apearance, however there was another odor that seemed to be trying to cover it up. 'It was almost as if the scent was becoming less potent, as the other...' Sherlock rushes down the passage to the left only stopping when he rounded a corner to find a door slightly ajar.
Gently sliding his hand through the crack, Sherlock eased the door open without making a sound. 'I knew you'd find me' a voice said, a little too casual given the circumstances. 'This place... Have you seen the decorations? Hah, You wouldn't happen to have a cup of tea? I should've killed you so long ago. Why do we play these games? No, I think I should be the one to tell John! ..Hello? Sherlock! You made it!'
Though Sherlock had intended on not attracting Moriarty's attention, he could not have stopped the short gasp, well it wasn't so much of a gasp as it was an uncontrollable breath reflex due to an unexpected surprise, which gave away his position immediately. Not that it mattered of course, Jim seemed fully preoccupied at the moment, even regarding his slight salutation. His eyes, although turned to face Sherlock, reflected what appeared to be a window viewing a spiraling mist of clouds and lightning. Even momentarily glancing at it, Sherlock felt as if he could fall into that vortex forever... but for now he would have to focus on Moriarty.
Whatever this is, some kind of visual illusion of sorts, it has certainly done a number on Jim's features. For a man in his late twenties, he had an unusually vibrant glow of youth to him. His entire demeanor, for that matter, seemed to have a certain sense of youngness and.. almost innocence. Surely this man could not have gotten younger since they had last met face to face? Certainly Sherlock would have noticed that during the pursuit here. But no, according to his assesment, Moriarty couldn't be any older than 17! Though his voice still sounded the same, it hardly seemed possible for him to have reversed his aging.
'Can't you hear it Sherlock?' Moriarty said, nearly ecstatic in madness, 'The drums, they're calling to me!'
'What drums? There aren't any drums. How...' Sherlock paused, indeed he could see that the mad man's entire body was slowly becoming younger as though he was reversing his life cycle.
'You don't understand, do you? Heehee! I always knew you weren't has clever as me! Just look at this! It tells me everything I want to know, EVERYTHING!' The sudden emphasis nearly caused the muscles on Sherlocks face to contract. 'It can show me everything in the universe. Any time, any place... It wants me to go. Wouldn't you like to know where?'
How could he let this continue? Sherlock knew that he had to stop whatever it was from happening. So he grabbed Jim by the shoulders, now a lad no more than 12, and carried him out into the hall.
'Lemme go, Sherlock Holmes! I'm not afraid! I'm not afraid to know whats out there beyond our petty game of hide and seek! I'm tired of just staying alive, I want to LIVE!' Moriarty cried as he flailed his limbs uncontrollably. Truly the rantings of a madman who had once been his one great competitor. Suddenly Sherlock could feel tears soaking his sleeves as Jim began to sob unrelentingly into his arm. Carrying him was little challenge now that he was no bigger than an eight year old.
Once they were out of the room, with the door closed behind them, the age-reversing process seemed to stop. 'This is what happens when you lose yourself to the untampered schizm, Moriarty.' The words had just leaped into his mouth, though he vague thought he knew what they meant. Jim had been right about one thing, it really could give you the knowledge of anything, maybe everything. But seeing Moriarty in this state of disrepair was only just enough reason not to give in to the temptation himself. Though it would appear that merely being in the presence of the open time vortex was enought to answer some questions.
There it was again, that unexpected knowledge somehow managed to find its way into his thoughts. Fascinating, Sherlock wondered, perhaps there is a safe way to gain access to this knowledge...
'I want to go back! You're a fool for not doing the same! I should kill you for stopping me! I should kill everyone for not wanting this!' Jim suddenly exclaimed and flew out of Sherlock's grasp. 'You have no right to tell me what to do! I know everything! I should tell you what to do!'
Watching this spectacle was nearer to comedy than Sherlock ever expected he would come. Moriarty, no more than a child, standing there trying to demand his obedience. He wondered if he could even call him Moriarty anymore, perhaps Jim?
Jim stood defiantly, his child's body couldn't mask the intensity of his stare. 'Why won't you listen to me! Obey me! I have seen the very fabric of time, you cannot possibly comprehend what I know! I am your master, bow before me or I shall destroy you!'. It was as if he knew that he truly was destined to be this "Master" of time and...
...End of File...