Hi guys, and thanks for reading chapter 2 of my fanfic! I've been really tired lately, and the day I was going to finish this was the day of our last choir concert, and then I had to get all of my homework done, and (rants). It's been a really long frigging week… =_= Ah, well! Holmes and Watson find themselves in Kay's basement! I hope you like Kay… She's a fun character, and I really enjoyed writing about her! R&R and special thanks to my first two reviewers! ;D

-AUHolmes

Chapter 2

-Kay's POV-

"Ringo…What have you done?" I lectured my energetic black lab from my bed on the second floor.

Even in the pitch-blackness I could tell that his big, puppy-dog eyes were staring into my gray-blue ones, telepathically pleading I didn't do it! Does this mean no food? But I LOVE food! I didn't do anything wrong!

I patted him gently on the head to reassure him that I'd keep feeding him and swung myself out of my bed with difficulty. I hate waking up before I have to, so waking up at three O' clock in the morning wasn't a welcome change to my schedule.

I'd been woken from my slumber by a loud crashing noise in the basement, and because only my dog and I lived in my condo just outside of Chicago, I naturally assumed that Ringo had knocked something over during one of his famous 'early-morning spazzes' as I called them. I did keep a lot of junk in that basement…

Just to be safe, I grabbed whatever was on my nightstand—in this case a spoon—to defend myself in case a robber was downstairs stealing one of my precious guitars.

With Ringo at my side, I slowly crept down the stairs to the main floor. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary among the mess that was my living area, I made my way towards the downstairs.

Ringo nudged the door open and tumbled down the stairs before I even had a chance to. I was beginning to shake with paranoia—I have an overactive imagination and my mind was currently formulating creepy images of people hiding in closets with bloody butcher knives and zombies climbing out of the storage boxes in the corner…

I slowly descended after my pet, spoon at the ready and mind racing. It was a long staircase; the walls were decorated with large posters of bands, namely the Beatles, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, and the Who, and of movies, "Sherlock Holmes", "Bringing Up Baby", and "North by Northwest" among others. I also had a bunch of road signs and other articles of random memorabilia from my travels and Amazon. The carpet was old, but it was a dark brown so it hid the stains from my I'm-bored-as-hell-so-I'm-going-to-do-something-stupid experiments that I'm prone to.

As I reached the last step, I heard a loud banging noise coming from the farthest closet in the right corner along with muffled voices.

Trembling with fear, I raised my spoon and approached the door cautiously, only one though running through my mind: Who the hell are these people and what the fuck are they doing in my closet?

I took a deep breath, grabbed the door handle, and pulled.

-3rd person POV-

Holmes wasn't sure of the exact time that he'd woken up, but he did know that he couldn't move because of the cramped space around him.

"Watson?" he whispered. "Are you well?"

Watson's voice hissed back at him, "Peachy. I'm just brilliant at the moment. How are you, Holmes?"

Holmes attempted to find Watson's face in the darkness but found it impossible to see anything in the black nothingness. He tried to move around, but the walls around him confined him to a cramped position in which his legs were pulled up to his neck and one of his arms was pinned under something heavy. The other remained quite useless on Holmes's left side.

"Watson, I do believe we are in Hell."

Watson, in a similar position to Holmes, grinned despite the fact that he was losing feeling in his legs, "No, my dear man, I think God despises us even more than that and has sent us to Purgatory until we are ready to be sent to Hell."

Holmes swung around his left fist until it collided with something. Watson let out a howl of pain.

Holmes grimaced, "My apologies, Watson. I was merely attempting to ascertain exactly where we are."

Watson swore loudly, "We're in Purgatory, I keep telling you!"

Holmes began writhing furiously. Watson, caught off guard, began to do the same so that he wouldn't be crushed by the now wriggling Holmes.

"Watson," Holmes began excitedly, ceasing to move, "I believe we are in some sort of closet."

Watson swore again, "What in God's name leads you to believe tha—"

"Quiet!" Holmes interjected suddenly. "There is someone down here with us. Listen carefully…"

Watson ceased talking and listened attentively. He indeed heard faint footsteps and the gentle tinkle of a bell… Was it the tag on a dog collar? He tried to adjust himself into a more comfortable position, "Who could that be?"

Holmes remained silent until the sound of footsteps became more and more obvious. He sighed softly. "She'll be opening the door momentarily. Brace yourself for a minor fall, Watson."

"She?"

Holmes had no time to respond. The door flew open and the two men tumbled heavily out of the dark, cramped closet into the semi-darkness of the room. Watson ground to a halt at the feet of a black Labrador retriever who seemed to be glad for the unexpected guests' arrival, while Holmes landed next to a woman holding a spoon.

The woman jumped back in surprise, using the spoon as a weapon as she took a defensive stance in front of Holmes. "Who the hell are you?"

Holmes tried to stand up but the woman kicked him solidly in the shoulder. "Don't try it, man. Again, who the hell are you?"

Holmes tumbled over in pain; the woman knew how to fight. He looked up at her face, trying to get a clear look at her through his streaming eyes, but the lighting was too bad for any deduction. Holmes could barely see her outfit, but he knew outlandish clothing when he saw it.

Watson held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, gently pushed the slobbering dog away, and slowly got to his feet. "I am Dr. John Watson. And who, pray tell, are you?"

She kept her eyes trained on Holmes, but she answered Watson's question quietly, "I am Kaydence Ballard. Will you tell me what the hell you're doing in my basement?"

Holmes suddenly sat up, rubbing his shoulder. "Well, Miss Ballard, let me assure you that we have no idea how we got here in the first place. I assume we are somewhere in America, maybe the Great Lakes region, from your accent, but that still doesn't explain your odd choice in clothing or your strange instruments."

Kaydence grinned at him, "Stop acting like a dumbass! Of course we're in the 'Great Lakes region', Mr…?"

Holmes looked startled. "Holmes. And what are these instruments?"

She looked confused. "What, my guitars? Don't tell me you've never seen an electric guitar before!"

Holmes looked puzzled also, "Electric guitars, eh? Interesting concept…"

Kaydence suddenly began to laugh uncontrollably. She dropped the spoon on the carpet, exciting the Labrador into a fit of barking. She clutched at her sides, collapsing in a heap opposite of Holmes. "You're absolutely ridiculous! You think I'll fall for a lie like that? Every person in their right mind has at least seen a picture of an electric guitar! What the fuck are you trying to accomplish!"

Holmes seized the opportunity to get up from the floor. "I assure you that I have never seen such a contraption before in my life. What are you laughing at?"

Kaydence got to her feet, her face red with mirth, "Damn, you criminals keep sinking lower and lower… Trying to convince me that you haven't seen an electric guitar before! Ha!"

Holmes's face assumed a very strange expression, "I… Explain to me where we are."

Kaydence whistled to her dog, which obediently scurried over to his master. "Just outside of Chicago. Where else would we be?"

Holmes's expression went from strange to just plain excited. He turned abruptly to Watson, who was standing quietly with his hands still up, "You do know what's happened don't you?"

Watson lowered his hands. "Not at all."

Holmes eyed Kaydence. "What year is it?"

Kaydence stared at him bemusedly, "… 2011."

Watson laughed, "You're joking, Miss Ballard! Right?"

Holmes said nothing but his energy was like lightning, filling the room with a static electricity that made both Watson's and Kaydence's hair stand on end. He bolted into the closet in one fluid motion, kneeling down on the dirty cement.

Kaydence grabbed her spoon up from the ground, "Damn! I knew you'd try to trick me!"

Watson tried to block Kaydence from launching herself at Holmes, "Stay back! He means no harm!"

She kneed Watson in the abdomen and flew at Holmes, "Damn you, you bastard!"

Holmes had no time to dodge the air attack from Kaydence. He was pinned to the floor by her strong arms and his legs were held in place with her feet. "Miss Ballard!"

"Don't 'Miss Ballard' me!" she spat, glaring at him, "What's in that closet that you want so bad?"

"Do you want me to show you where it is?" Holmes asked coolly. "I promise that I won't lay a finger on it."

"I'll find it myself." Kaydence snarled, pushing Holmes to the side and clambering into the closet. She ran her hands along the cold cement until she found a metal stick that was lying in the back of the small space. She waved it in front of Holmes's nose, "Is this what you were looking for?"

Holmes nodded, reaching for the rod. Kaydence pulled it back swiftly, "Ah, ah, ah… I see it first. It could be dangerous."

Holmes and Watson waited patiently as she examined the S.T.I.C.C. She seemed very interested in the small metal device.

"So you used the reaction between silicic acid and aluminum metallic powder to power this thing? I've been wanting to try that reaction myself." She talked to Holmes and Watson very scientifically, as if she was some sort of expert on chemicals.

Holmes's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, "Yes… But how did you figure that out?"

She shrugged, "Well first of all, we learn that sort of thing in high school. Plus, I kind of dabble in chemicals."

"Fascinating." Holmes whispered, clearly amazed.

She threw the S.T.I.C.C. into one of the corners. "Without those chemicals, that stick isn't dangerous at all. Now, would either of you like to explain to me how you got here and why you're in my basement?"

She ushered them to the sofa in the middle of the room and sat them both down. Kaydence then went and turned on all of the lights so that she could see them both better.

Watson raised an eyebrow, "Why the sudden change of heart, Miss Ballard?"

"Easy!" She replied. "Once I saw the clothes you were wearing, Mr. Holmes's expression when I told him it was 2011, and the way you spoke, it was pretty obvious that you aren't from here."

Holmes looked at her appraisingly. "Very good. We are from the late 19th century. 1887, to be exact. I am Sherlock Holmes, private detective, and this is my friend Dr. John Watson."

"So you are real…" She mused.

Watson looked puzzled. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"You see," she explained, "most people in the 21st century think that you are fictional characters created by Sir. Arthur Conan Doyle, a famous writer. It must have been both a time warp and a dimensional warp... Unless you really were real people."

"You are handling this very well." Holmes remarked.

"Oh, I'm just good at controlling myself." Kaydence nodded. "I'm actually screaming on the inside."

"Why?" Watson inquired, laughing.

"Because, I'm what we call a "fangirl" in the 21st century. That means that I'm obsessed with something. In this case, I am a fangirl of the book "Sherlock Holmes", and the movie as well. I'm a fangirl of many other things, however, so don't think you're special or something." She said the last part with a grin on her face.

Holmes had to chuckle. "You are an interesting specimen."

She rolled her eyes. "Great, now I'm being nicknamed after a scientific word. How adorable!"

Holmes looked uncomfortable, "Yes… Well, might I ask you about yourself?"

She stared deep into his eyes, "I won't tell you anything about myself. Use your observation skills."

He matched her gaze flawlessly. "Very well."

-Holmes's POV-

Hm… Blue-gray eyes… She does not hesitate or break eye contact. Her gaze is a bit extreme. Confident… A teacher, maybe?

Watson gulped from his position next to me. He was most likely thinking that this situation would turn out with me getting my ass handed to me by a woman again.

I bit my lip and let my eyes take in every small detail of this woman on the couch.She was wearing some flannel pants and a shirt that read "Michigan State" on it. There was a small rip at the bottom of the pants, showing that her dog had chewed on it at one time or another. Not very organized. Her hair was blonde and slightly wavy. Her pose was one of confidence and her gaze was that of a teacher surveying students. Trained as a teacher, but not working. She had ink splattered all over her right hand and a number of pencil marks on both of her hands. Right handed. Enjoys writing and drawing, but grading papers takes up a lot of time. A perfectionist, it seems. Recently cutting back on workload. She had a bruise on the side of her shoulder. Martial arts—maybe kung fu? Bruise caused by a bared fist. Boxing also? Her hands were calloused, especially on the fingertips of her right hand. Used to physical work… Plays the guitar left-handed even though she is right handed. She had a small cut next to her left eye, most likely left by an animal. Loves animals… except for cats. There were bags under her eyes, but her eyes were alert and focused. Hasn't been getting enough sleep lately because of her work schedule. Used to little sleep but really enjoys to sleep. There was a small tattoo of a Japanese character on her collarbone. Enjoys Japanese culture… Strange… Doesn't look Japanese. She was also very beautiful, in a subdued sense. What the hell? Why am I thinking like that? There wasn't a ring on her left hand, but there was a Claudaugh ring on her right hand. Irish heritage, unmarried, and not courting. Very good… Wait, what?

I shook my head to disperse the thoughts that were plaguing the rationality of my mind. I had barely met the woman… Could it be that all 21st century women were like this? Did they all threaten to shatter the carefully crafted years of logic and sensibility that I had concentrated on building my entire life?

She poked me on the shoulder to snap me out of my daze. "Well?"

I caught her eye, and immediately let the deductive part of my mind take control of the situation. "You are a teacher. Out of work, at the moment, and not searching for a job. Why, I haven't the slightest idea, but that tells me that either you are on some sort of leave or you have recently come into some money. You do martial arts—namely Kung Fu, and you box with people twice your size. You used to work on a farm when you were young…but not an animal farm. A flower nursery, if I am correct. You are a musical enthusiast and you play both the piano and the guitar effortlessly, and you collect musical memorabilia. You have trained yourself to wake up early, but you still hate waking up before six. You love animals, other than cats because of a run in with a cat when you were young. You are a Japanese culture enthusiast, but you are not Japanese in the slightest… Your heritage is Irish, judging from the ring on your finger, and other miscellaneous European nationalities including… German? You are also very—"

I cut myself off before that damn emotional part of my brain seized control from my rational side. I cleared my throat. "Erm, yes. That was all I could think of."

Her expression was one of sincere admiration. "That was…"

I couldn't help but be curious to her response. "Was what?"

She laughed out loud. "That was fucking amazing!"

I grinned up at her. 21st century women were certainly very outspoken. I had to admit that it was much more enjoyable having a woman who would curse and laugh and speak her mind in front of you than having to put up with those bores of my century.

Watson watched her with a smile on his face. "I don't think that Holmes has ever gotten a response to his deductive skills quite like that one."

She flopped down on the couch next to me, smile still plastered on her face. "Well then, thank you for allowing me to be the first to react in the proper fashion!"

Her dog, which had somehow fallen asleep in a dog bed near one of the walls, walked over to where I was sitting and put his head on my knee. He was quite… I didn't exactly know the word to describe him.

Kaydence smiled at me. "I think that Ringo likes you."

Watson began to snicker from his side of the couch. "Don't try any experiments on him, Holmes! Miss Ballard just might murder you while you sleep!"

Kaydence smirked. "Damn right I will. And please, call me Kay. Miss makes me sound old. I hear enough of it during school."

I smiled. She was proving to be a very enjoyable person.

-Kay's POV-

Holy shit! Sherlock Holmes and Watson are in my basement! Holy shit!

That phrase seemed to be the only thing my brain could process as I talked to the two men in my basement. The two fictional men in my basement.

"So, I'm guessing you two have no place to stay, correct?" I asked.

Holmes and Watson simultaneously shook their heads.

"Well, you'll have to stay with me and endure the torture that is RINGO!" I yelled the last part, exciting my already excited dog into hysterical fits of jumping and barking.

Watson grimaced and covered his ears, "He's very loud isn't he?"

"That's one thing we both have in common!" I remarked, laughing at the disgruntled expression on both of their face. "Now, come on guys. You two can share the living room. It's hopelessly messy, but you'll manage just fine if you clear away some of the crap and the research papers."

I led them upstairs and showed them the living room. "Mr. Watson, you can have the couch, and Mr. Holmes, you get the floor."

Holmes shocked me by collapsing into a heap on the carpet. "Just like home..." He turned a curious face towards me. "But why does he get the couch?"

"Maybe I like him better. Anyways, Ringo will keep you company!" I left him abruptly, and he was still sprawled out on the floor, puzzled, smirking, and trying to figure out whether or not I was joking.

I couldn't help laughing as I clambered back into bed. This was going to be one hell of a party!