Chapter two of the massive rewrite. This chapter is dedicated to my good friend Kitty who has helped me with every point of this story and every rewrite! Thanks honey! Read and review please!

Thank you!

Arsenal Averson

"What the fuck just happened? Who are you? Where am I!" I looked around at a very out dated living room I had never seen before. My shopping bags, briefcase, and purse were sitting next to me I noticed.

"Oh, you're finally awake Miss Tierney." A man said somewhere from the dark. I reached into my briefcase and pulled out my gun and aimed it at the tall, black haired man.

"Who the fuck are you?" I questioned him. He held up his hands helplessly.

"Don't worry Miss Tierney, we just brought you to our home to bandage you up." The man said.

"And where are we?" I still had the gun on him as I looked around. The room was impossibly dim, lit by gas lamps. Now that I looked, there didn't seem to be anything electrical in the room.

"Baker Street, 221b to be exact." I got up and moved forward, as best I could on account that my flesh felt like it was on fire. "Do you know what day it is Miss Tierney?" I knew my shock and anger must have shown on my face because my reluctant captor took a step back.

"How do you know my name?" I ignored his question.

"Miss Crisco has told us everything." I put the gun in the waistband of my jeans, safety on, and sat back down on the sofa. "This is going to be hard for you to understand but it's 1887, not 2012."

"Bull shit. I don't believe you. This must be some sort of hallucination that comes with being struck by lightning or something." I took the magazine out of the gun and laid it down on the divan next to me. I watched the man out of the corner of my eye, he was staring at the handgun, or the way I was dressed. I walked to the window and looked out. The world was hazy and dark. I opened the window to get a better look.

I could hear the staccato clip-clop of horses, I could see people in period clothing, smell the horrible scent of filth. People below were staring at me. Like I was a freak, out of place. And if this man was telling the truth, I was.

"Who put you up to this? Johnston? Elliot?" I asked, turning to him. This had to be a joke and I was getting pissed off. "This is the worse joke anyone has ever played on me and it isn't fair to Alea, you don't know what she's been through! But…even if this was a joke how did you…?" It took too long to realize that this was real. As unlikely as it is. "Oh shit." I groaned and slid to the floor. "Oh god. It's true isn't it?"

"It is Miss Tierney." He pulled me up from the floor and guided me to another room. "You're badly burned, come with me." We walked up the stairs to another room where I was greeted by a man with a mustache whom was shorter than the man from the drawing room and Alea was there also with bandages around her hands. When she saw me she gasped.

"Beth! You're awake!" Alea moved to hug me but stopped noticing how badly off I was.

"What?" I was confused at why she was laughing.

"Your hair." She said. "It's straight! But you look like crap."

"What?" I walked back to the hallway where we had passed a mirror. I looked at myself and was shocked. My usually curly hair was straight and frizzy. My skin was covered in soot, blisters, and soars from the burns. "Oh my God! My face! My shoulders!" I was covered is burns.

"Miss Tierney, you should be in bed." The man told her, taking her by the arm.

"Who are you? What bed? I don't have a bed! I don't have a home!" I yelled, staring down at my burnt body.

"I'm Dr. Watson, this is my friend, Sherlock Holmes." The shorter man said. I nodded, I knew since Holmes had mentioned the address, though I could hardly believe it. "You can stay here." Holmes gave him an evil glare. "You can not be expected to stay on the streets in your condition. Maybe Mrs. Hudson could find something for you to do, we'll make arrangements." I grimaced at the bile coming up my throat. I couldn't believe this. I wanted to die.

"I want to go to bed…" They took me up to an attic room that was once used as a servant's quarters and put me to bed. Dr. Watson sat down next to me and bandaged me. "Why didn't you bandage me earlier?"

"To be honest, we thought you were dead until we brought you here." He told me as he timed my pulse.

"I don't care. Why doesn't it hurt badly?" I asked.

"I gave you a shot of morphine." I watched him give me a pill of some sort. "You need to sleep. Take these." I took them dry and laid down.

"I appreciate this from you both." I told them, waiting for sleep.

"We'll have to talk when you wake up again. You need to rest." Alea sat down next to me as I drifted off. I felt someone take off my jewelry as another cut my clothes from my body.

"You cut off my underwear and shoes I'll hurt you…" I said right before passing out from the pain.

I spent the rest of the night getting drunk. I didn't particularly like getting drunk on champagne but it had to do. It was nearly two in the morning when I fell asleep. I woke up with a hang over around noon.

"I had the strangest dream that I …oh bollocks! It wasn't a dream." I saw Holmes and the others. Holmes was reading my notes which had been left in my briefcase downstairs. I looked over his shoulder to see what had him so interested.

"The London Ghoul is a organized serial killer.

Motive seems to be Hedonism. (his own pleasure) Since he rapes and consumes parts of his victims. (always the same part?)

Victims are always left in the open though they seem to be killed and tortured somewhere off sight. (How does he get there? He owns a car or has a place in the area.)

V. always young woman, good looking. Most are students. Brown hair. (why?)

What we know about the Ghoul: left handed, male, smart (no finger prints, seaman, blood, hair or anything else at the scene) around six feet."

I sat down next to him, slow as to not agitate my injuries. I took the notebook from him, not like I would need it any longer. Now I didn't have a job. Nothing.

"What are we going to do? We don't have any money, any place to live…and look at me! I'm burned really badly." I asked the assembled persons at the breakfast table. Alea nodded.

"Mrs. Hudson offered us a position as house maids for room and board." I didn't like that, granted, we needed room and board, but I did not like the idea of being a maid.

"Oh my Harvard education has definitely gotten me so far in life." I said spitefully. Holmes and Watson looked taken aback by my high class education. "A maid? How can I be a maid? This is great. From Beacon Hill to a fucking house maid? My father wouldn't be happy. Then again. I'm currently in a place that precedes my birth by almost a hundred years. So, I don't think he'd care since he ain't even born yet!" I was a woman out of her element, I felt horribly lost. Thank god I had Alea though.

"You attended Harvard Miss Tierney?" Holmes asked a bit a disbelief in his voice.

"Yes! Believe it or not. I had the brains and the means to attend the greatest university in America! A journalist to a housemaid!" I spat at him.

"Beth. It's no reason to get upset." Alea said, I glared at her. "Ok. It is. But don't make things worse. You can figure something out later."

"You're a journalist? Maybe you will be of some use to me. I doubt it though." Holmes said. I rolled my eyes, I was too hung over to argue with him.

"Shut up. I'm too hung over to defend myself…" I groaned like a dieing man and smacked my head on the table, by accident. "Anyone know a hangover cure that doesn't involve more alcohol?" My head lay on the table, shielded from the light by my arms. Watson pored me a cup of coffee and I took it gratefully.

"How come neither of you have asked about the future?" Alea asked politely while I felt like I was going to have a seizure my arms hurt so badly.

"Oh God! Alea, don't start that now…" I gave her a hateful, painful glare.

"She's in pain. Are you ok?" Alea asked, she put a hand on my arm and I hissed in pain. She took back her hand as if she had burnt her own hand. I was jealous that it wasn't, she hadn't been so bad off as myself.

"How could ya tell?" My arms were shaking as pain blossomed over a majority of my body.

"You slip back into your Boston accent when you're angry, in pain, or really drunk." She told me matter-of-fact. I rolled my eyes at her as I peaked under the bandages and screeched. My flesh was bubbling, bright red and bruised, and oozing a putrid, yellow pus and blood.

"Oh God!" I wailed, hangover completely forgotten, I ran to the bathroom to tear the yellow and red bandages. I was horrified to see that most of my arms were covered in burns, as well as my chest, stomach, and thighs. Why hadn't I looked before? It didn't feel as bad before, I thought they were minor burns! There wasn't any pain before! They were going to scar horribly knowing my shitty luck.

"I gave you Morphine before you woke up. That's why there wasn't any pain before." I saw Watson standing in the doorway with a syringe in his hand. "I wanted to see how you were feeling before I gave you another injection."

"Go ahead. It's too painful to stand anymore. Literally, I don't think I can stand up any longer." He steered me to the sofa and I sat down with a plop and watched as Watson injected the clear liquid into my arm above a cluster of old slender scar in the crook of my elbow, which seemed to interest Holmes. "When well it start working?"

"Soon, Beth. Soon." He took the needle out and I was already feeling hazy. He moved to picked me up in his arms but Holmes stopped him, concerned for his friend's shoulder. So Holmes picked me up and carried me to Alea and mine's room in the attic. Watson came into the room with a thermometer. I fell asleep before they could do anything.

Apparently the burns were badly infected, which will cause endless pain for the next month.

"Hello. You're awake. Finally." I rolled my head over to see Holmes sitting in a chair to the right of the bed, the lamp down low so I had trouble seeing him. My bedside table was open and the nearly empty bottle of King of Spirits Absinthe I had taken from my office was out along with my cell phone, which was off, and my ring.

"Damn it." I rubbed my eyes with my hands and rolled over. "Why did you do that?"

"You're an interesting person Miss Tierney." Holmes said. I rolled my eyes and pulled my cigarettes and lighter out of the nightstand. "You are not the norm of the fairer sex." I shock at this and the cigarette nearly falls from my mouth.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" I ask trying to get my mind through the morphine fog.

"I'm not sure really." He gives me the stare down and that makes me uncomfortable. "And I don't want to be. You could either be an asset in this house or a nusence."

"Afraid I'll distract you Holmes? Don't worry. I spend more time worrying about my own damn problems these days. I couldn't give two shits about what you think about me at the moment. Too busy, you know, body being burnt to hell and all that?" I lean back in the pillows, ready to go to sleep again but too hungry to do so. "I hope I can be helpful. House work is so meaningless."

"Who are you Beth?" He was looking at me from below his brows. He was relaxed and leaning on the back of chair.

"I was born on Beacon Hill in Boston. My father a Congressman and was once the director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation's Behavioral Analysis Unit. They call them profilers and they investigate crimes, threats, corruption, bombings, and arson. My dad has his Ph.D. in Sociology and Psychology. My mother died when I was five, I didn't have much of a family because my dad was always working. He never brought his work home with him but he would change when he was on a hard case. When I was young there was an arsonist in Kansas that my father was hunting down, he nearly killed my father but in the end he got the killer. He wanted me to fallow in his footsteps but I didn't. I didn't want it, I got my bachelors degree in law and my masters in Journalism. He was happy with that but even happier when my brother ended up at the FBI with him. I went to a private school and my uncle helped raise me. I met Alea there, who was on scholarship. The Boston Latin School by the way. We've been friends ever since and lived together for awhile." I put the nearly burnt out cigarette in a makeshift ashtray, a broken bowl and watch him. I know that I keep surprising him and it's actually really funny to see the shock on his face. "That's who I am in a nutshell. Vague, but you get the idea."

"Your father was a detective?" He asked me. I laid my head back down, very sleepy.

"In a way, yes. At one point in his life my father's job was to interview criminals of varying degrees of evil. He collected information and he taught me about it later. He later hunted down serial killers, terrorists, arsonists, whatever, as a investigator. That's how I got the story about the London Ghoul. My experience through my father." I replied. Nearly falling asleep again.

"You should go back to sleep Beth." Holmes puts the things back in the drawer and leaves me.

In 2005 a satalite that was set in orbit in 2000 disappeared. Three years later it reappeared in the same place aged far beyond the three years it had been gone. A university in Germany tested it and the carbon dating came back. It was over four hundred years old.

The next time I wake up is to the song "Patty Lee" by Les Savy Fav, my brother's ring tone. I turn over and pick up the phone in habit, forgetting that such things were out of place here.

"Hello?" My voice sounds harsh and raspy on the phone. "Scott?"

"Where the hell are you? We've been trying to get a hold of you for days!" My brother actually sounded concern. I rolled onto my back and looked up at the ceiling. Oh, right. I thought with a groan.

"It's not where I am, it's more like when." I say then I tell him to hold on for a second and yell for Alea who comes running in from another room.

"Oh Jesus, Beth. You're one of them? Holy fuck! I knew it. Chelsea and Patrick are gone too. It's been happening all over the world. People have been disappearing in freak electric storms and popping up in different times. It's all over the news." Alea's above me now with Holmes and Watson and she can hear it, she has tears in her eyes. "I can't believe this, three family members." Chelsea Tierney is my younger cousin, she's a teacher in Virginia. Patrick Sullivan is another cousin, a State Trooper in Boston. "Poor Chelsea is in 1775 and Patrick is in 1881." My mind sparks at this idea. Patrick in my year! Today! A cousin an ocean away! I nearly cry but I don't, I can't because my father taught me not to years ago. "What time are you in?"

"1881, I'm with Alea, please tell her family. We were found and lucky to have an understanding house hold." I told him. I take a picture with my phone of my eager hosts.

"Who are you staying with?" He asks. I send the picture to him and tell him the names, knowing he won't believe me. "You're shitting me right?"

"No, here, talk to Watson." I hand the phone to Watson who stares at it strangely but holds it up to his ear and mimics what I did.

"Mr. Tierney I presume? My name is Dr. John Watson, I would like assure that your sister and Miss Crisco are well taken care of." Watson reassures my brother who sounds like he's hyperventilating on the other end.

"Are they? That's reassuring but my father he would like to know this too. Unfortunately he is in Washington at the moment. Are they being treated well? Are they alright?" Scott asked.

"They are being treated very fair though your sister has some serious burns that are beginning to heal." Watson told my younger brother. I could imagine him getting upset at this news.

"Thank you, could you give the phone back to my sister?" Watson handed the phone back to me and I turned on the speakerphone so everyone else can hear.

"You're on speakerphone." I tell Scott. "You have to tell dad and Mr. and Mrs. Spradlin, Alea's parents. How the hell is my cell phone working anyways?"

"I'll tell them. I have know idea how your cell phone is working! Patrick's and Chelsea's are working too and the news channels all have clips of what they are calling "Travelers" on their cell phone cameras giving their loved ones messages, one actually recorded a shot of last Czar of Russia. Another person in 1869 in Kansas is doing a weekly pod cast. You can get the news on the net or your phone. They are saying that electronics have been permanently charged due to the electrical storm." Scott talk to someone else and he told me that he had to go. "I'll make sure that you get a hold of dad and Alea's parents know. Dad's going to make an announcement on the evening news along with the governor saying this is a priority. I'll talk to you later. You know, it would be a good idea if you limited your air time."

"Thanks Scotty, I love you. Give my love to daddy too." I hung up and it felt like my life was gone. A depression washed over me and I was crushed.

"Beth, Alea I'm sorry." Watson tried to consol us but I was too upset. I told them to leave and they did, Alea sat down next to me on the bed.

"Do you think that-" Alea began.

"Alea, don't." I rolled over and pressed my face into the pillow, falling asleep soon after.

A few days later I was feeling well enough to get dressed and go downstairs. I looked through the stuff that Alea had unloaded into a wardrobe, the left side was mine and painfully sparse. I laid out an outfit of skinny leg jeans, a white tank with a little geisha character on it, and a pair of sneakers. I turned to the full length mirror and stood there in nothing but a black thong and bra. I hadn't seen myself since I was burned. My right thigh and along my rib cage were going to scar horribly. My arms were healing well and would be slightly scared. My torso was red but I was able to see the sparrow tattoos on my lower abdomen and the rose over my heart. But my hands, they look horrible. I turn around and saw my back was nearly clear and the small wing tattoos on my shoulder blades weren't messed up at all. It was my bad luck I suppose. I shook my head and covered it all up in clothes. As the Dresden Dolls' song goes "I am the girl anachronism". I put on a pair of sunglasses and leave the servants room I'd been stuck in for nearly a month.

I walked down to the parlor very slowing, my legs still in pain, and found the bachelors sitting around a table as Alea worked on mending a shirt. She was wearing a floor length skirt and a shirt with long sleeves so she didn't look so out of place. The two men stare as I walk to the window. They see the nose ring and long dangling naval ring I had put in earlier which must be a strange site to them. Alea smiles up at me as I light a cigarette.

"This has to be the single most terrifying thing to happen to me in a long time." I say as look at my own burnt hands. I was going to look horrific when they healed.

"It is not all that bad. At least we are alive." Alea tried to cheer me up but I'm in too much pain to agree with her. "I wonder what that was anyways. I'm willing to bet that has never happened before." I nodded. Now that she mentions it, I was curious to figure out what had happened. Looking out the window again I can't help but feel like I was alone even with my childhood friend was there. It was going to be a long way to go. I realize I could die here and I get even more depressed. My family wouldn't even know if I was dead or not.

"I feel like this is the worst acid trip ever and I'm going to sober up and it will all be gone. But no, I'm still here and I'm fucking pissed." I flicked my cigarette into the fireplace. "There's no way in hell I am going to fit in here. I barely fitted in before we got here. I mean, look at me!" I was wearing low rider jeans and a small tank top that showed off all of my tattoos and belly button ring, not to mention the small gold hoop piercing my right nostril. "A tattooed indie/punk/normal/whatever the hell I am! Dude, I can't deal with this shit I'm going to loose my fucking mind and then what? And what are people going to think when they see me? People don't naturally black, red, and blond streaked hair, what the hell do I tell people?" I sunk into a chair across from Holmes and groaned. "I'm in hell. I'm officially in hell." Holmes looks up from the paper raising his eyebrows at this comment. "No offence, you guys are awesome but I don't think this is going to be a fucking cake walk. I want to die. Seriously."

"You'll feel better after you have a cup of coffee." Alea tells me handing over a cup of black coffee. I take a sip and know that she's right. "Maybe it would be better if we actually had some clothes from here."

"I agree." Watson told us that he would buys us new clothes and volunteered Holmes to help which earned a scornful stare from him.

"Great. I have to go out in public." I thought about it. Damn. This could be bad. I didn't want to look at Holmes, I knew he was watching me. I didn't know how he felt about me. He hardly ever talked to me but I, on the other hand, had always had always been drawn to men like him. I tell myself I can't get involved with him but I know it's inevitable. It's a matter of time.