Author's note: Thanks for all the kind reviews! I'm sorry I'm taking so long with this, and thank you all for your patience.
Chapter III
- Watson -
Contrary to my unvoiced misgivings, our visitor seemed inclined to curb his flirtations for the moment. Far from following through upon his insinuations, Stark, upon entering our humble sitting-room, immediately directed his attention to the bric-a-brac strewn about our abode and proceeded to subject everything to close scrutiny, starting with the clutter upon our mantelpiece and working his way through Holmes' chemical equipment and even examining the gasogene. Finally, he ended up at our bookshelf and subsided into my armchair with a book on iron smelting techniques that a grateful client had sent Holmes once, which he began to read with silent but obvious and intense amusement.
Holmes had observed him for a few minutes with the same wary watchfulness he normally bestowed upon our female clients. Finally, he seemed to decide that Stark would not upset his chaotic filing arrangement nor do anything unpredictable, and as he apparently did not mind this individual going through our personal effects, he promptly proceeded to ignore our guest and busied himself with the evening editions of the papers before lighting a pipe and staring vaguely into space.
I was burning with curiosity. Why was Stark here? How long was he supposed to stay? Who was he? And what in the name of the Lord Harry was so funny about smelting techniques? Finally, I could contain myself no longer. "Holmes, might I have a word?"
My friend glanced at me without otherwise moving a muscle, and the abstracted expression in his eyes showed me that I had interrupted a train of thought. I was about to apologize when he roused himself. "Very well. It is time to confer with Mrs. Hudson about our guest's accommodation anyway."
Stark looked up from his book. "Oh, either of your beds will be fine. I'm a very agreeable bed partner, or so I've been told. Snuggly, even." His serious expression made it impossible to tell whether or not that was meant in jest. Apparently, the fellow was quite unable to leave well enough alone after all.
Holmes chose not to dignify that remark with a response and shushed me when I drew breath to do so in his stead. "Come along, Watson."
I followed him downstairs. "Holmes, what the deuce is going on?" I demanded as soon as we were out of earshot. "I understand about aiding a fellow in distress, but aren't you going a bit far? Why don't we just deposit the chap at his home, or at a hotel, and be done with it?"
He smiled an impish smile. "Worried about your virtue, Watson?"
I scowled. "If I recall correctly, you were the one mentioning how illegal the acts he is insinuating are. Besides, he is rather... obnoxious, is the word, I think."
"I find him highly stimulating," said Holmes serenely. "Pray try not to be put off by his manner," he went on, ignoring my snort. "There is more to this fellow than meets the eye."
"Well, one thing is certain. That chap's no gentleman."
"His social circumstances are merely of passing interest to me. Besides, it's quite possible that you are mistaken."
I sighed. "Holmes, don't you think it's time to stop being cryptic and fill me in?"
He nodded. "You're quite right, of course. Very well, then. Brace yourself..."
The door had hardly closed when Tony had put the book aside, was out of his chair and opening the case that contained his armor. "Jarvis," he said softly, removing the helmet, "I want you to make a recording of everything that goes on within sensor range, starting now. Visible spectrum and audio only; I think we can disregard the rest of the EM spectrum. Stop when I tell you, or when your energy is at 10 percent, whichever happens first."
"Anticipating trouble, are we, sir?" Jarvis inquired.
"Trouble? I hope not. No, this is an historic occasion; I intend to make the most of it. Back home, everyone thinks Sherlock Holmes is a fictional character! Either this whole thing is the result of too much martini combined with bad olives, and I'm currently lying unconscious amidst the debris of a truly spectacular party, or I've stepped through the looking glass, in which case I intend to bring back proof."
"Very well, Sir," Jarvis replied coolly. "Recording. Though I might mention that 10 percent is cutting it rather fine."
Tony shrugged. "I'll recharge you through the arc reactor when I next put the armor on again. Right. I'm turning off the HUD, so the glowing eyes won't give you away, plus it'll save energy." Looking around, he placed the helmet on top of some books at the back of the bookshelf, where the light from the gas fixtures would not strike it and its sensors had an unobstructed view of the room. "How's that?"
"Not too shabby," the AI responded.
"It's a foregone conclusion that Holmes is going to find you soon, so try to curb any remarks when he does, okay? He knows too much about the future as it is. We shouldn't tip him off on the existence of computers, or he'll invent one before Alan Turing does."
"Understood, Sir."
Tony returned to his chair and picked up the book. Just in time, as it turned out, before the dynamic duo returned.
It was immediately apparent from the change in Watson's manner that Sherlock Holmes had taken the man into his confidence. Tony didn't know what to think about that - it seemed to needlessly increase the risk of creating a temporal paradox to have another person in the know - but there was hardly anything he could do about it. In any case, Watson stared at Tony with none of the exasperated amusement he had shown before. Instead, now his regard showed awe and curiosity.
That was better. Awe Tony was used to. The presence of Sherlock Holmes had made Tony feel a little off his stride, since he could no longer claim with absolute certainty to be the smartest person in the room. Watson's obvious wonder was going a long way towards removing that unfamiliar feeling of inferiority.
There was a minute or so of awkward silence as Watson took a seat on one of the visitor's chairs while Holmes settled down in the other armchair. Tony realized that he had usurped the doctor's customary place and wondered whether he should surrender it in the interest of future relations (which he fully intended to pursue), but he was saved from making that decision when Holmes broke the silence.
"Since we all of us value our sanity, we should first and foremost decide on the living arrangements."
Tony grinned. "Like I said, either of your beds will be -"
"That is quite enough of that, Stark," Holmes said with a steely undertone that made Tony raise his eyebrows. "You are here on sufferance, and I'll thank you not to try our patience overmuch. It will be difficult enough to share these small rooms among three persons without enduring your absurd insinuations at every turn."
Whoops, Tony thought. Struck a nerve there. He raised both hands in a placating gesture. "Sorry. Just my way of dealing with stress." But even as he said that, he shot a wink in Watson's direction. This is going to be fun.
- Watson -
I confess I do not have a clear recollection of the beginning of the conversation, for my mind was still reeling from the revelations Holmes had imparted upon me. Time-travel? A man from the future? I would have thought that I was the victim of an elaborate joke, were it not for Holmes' final and compelling argument: "Look at the fellow's chest, Watson." I was sufficiently familiar with my friend's cryptic instructions to know that there was always a reason behind them, so I looked as soon as we were back in the sitting-room. Then I spent a few seconds trying to decide whether my eyes were deceiving me, or whether I was indeed seeing a faint bluish light seeping through Stark's borrowed shirt. And finally, I realized that for one thing, indeed I was - and it certainly was no gas light -, and for another thing, there was no other explanation that covered all the facts.
A time traveler.
That was the moment when Stark winked at me, and I dragged my mind to the present, but not fast enough to prevent a blush from heating up my face. After all, the fellow was very handsome. His undisguised flirtation had reminded me of the pleasures to be found among like-minded individuals of the same sex, and it had been entirely too long since I had last sampled them.
Embarrassed by the sudden upsurge of lust, I cast a glance in Holmes' direction, and his scowl informed me that he had seen and divined the reason for my blush, which only served to increase my mortification. How could he fail to deduce now that I occasionally fancied men? And how could he, who abhorred all forms of human sentimentality, still remain my intimate friend with that knowledge?
I sat in silent horror at the thought of a future without Holmes while around me the conversation continued.
"You will have to find some other way to deal with your stress, Stark. Whatever the legal and moral situation may be in your time, here and now, there are severe repercussions in store for anyone who engages in sodomy."
"Who said anything about 'engaging in sodomy', Holmes? I was merely tryin' to be practical about this without anyone having to sleep on the sofa. 'Cause I just know that that would be me, and I don't do sofas."
"That is too bad, because that is where you will sleep. Or in the coal cellar, if you prefer."
There was a pause, and I once again tried to participate in the conversation.
Stark was looking at Holmes in what I can only describe as a puppy-dog expression, and then the fellow batted his eyelashes.
It should have looked ridiculous, or at least nancy-ish. Instead, it looked charming, and very engaging. Clearly, this was a man who was very comfortable with and sure about every aspect of himself, and who was willing to use his natural advantages to achieve his ends with no regard for propriety. Amidst my mortification and the still reverberating general shock, I realized I was envious.
There was a pause, and then Holmes laughed. "Oh, my dear fellow," he cried, "you really are too much. You can't possibly expect that to work on me. It's the sofa for you, period, and I'd advise you to stay there during the night. I am an exceptionally light sleeper, and so is Watson. Also, we tend to react rather impulsively if people sneak about our rooms."
Stark was grinning unrepentantly. "Oh, I certainly wouldn't want to be tackled and wrestled into submission by either one of you, or even both at the same time. My poor heart couldn't stand it." He fanned himself mockingly, still grinning. "Besides, it's looking like a really comfy sofa. All of two inches of upholstery. I'll sleep like a baby."
We were not destined to learn what Holmes intended to reply to that, because at that moment, Mrs. Hudson entered, bearing dinner and not-so-inconspicuously assessing our guest.
That was when we realized that Stark was quite capable of behaving himself. "Good evening, Ma'am," he said easily. "I'd like to thank you for putting up with me, and if I can make myself useful in any way around the house, just let me know, please."
She smiled, flustered. "Oh, I wouldn't – I couldn't! It's not my place to presume…"
Stark winked at her. "Please presume away. I mean it. Looks like I'll have a lot of free time on my hands, and while your esteemed lodgers are out chasing criminals, there may be one or two things I can do to, you know, make life easier for you."
Or maybe not. "Stark!" I said sternly, even as Holmes looked away to hide a smirk. "Really!"
Stark looked at me, wide-eyed. "What?" he said, the picture of innocence. "I'm an engineer. There may be something mechanical I can apply my skills to in exchange for food and lodging. It'd be only fair, since money's a little scarce right now." He grinned, then turned serious. "Like shoveling coals, making repairs to the furnace. Not what you're thinking. Really, Dr. Watson, get your mind out of the gutter."
Mrs. Hudson did something I had heretofore never heard her do. She giggled.
By now, I was flushed bright red, and I cast about for words. Futilely, as it turned out.
Holmes, of course, was no help at all. "That's an excellent idea," he said, totally ignoring the undercurrents. Apparently, he was not as worried about Mrs. Hudson's virtue as I was. "It'll be a formidable way to channel your excess energies, Stark."
"Not the only way I can think of, certainly," Stark said, "but it'll do for starters."
Dinner continued in much the same vein, and finally I realized, as Holmes had done right away, that the only way to tolerate our new acquaintance's outrageous behavior was to ignore it. In the end, we actually managed to talk about safe and everyday topics, and if there was the occasional fluttering of eyelids and thinly veiled innuendo from our guest, both Holmes and I circumvented him by continuing to act perfectly normal.
When we finally said good-night, it felt like some sort of truce had been drawn, even if I was not quite sure what the battle had been about, or indeed if there really had been one.
Later that night, as I lay alone in my bed, I could not help but imagine Stark downstairs on the sofa and my friend in the next room, and I wondered what might be going on, and my imagination ran wild.
To be continued....
