Chapter Three, Part I: Doctor Who & Crew
There's a sudden rush of air and John's pretty sure they've stopped.
He looks around the room –the… the… what had the Doctor called it? The TARDIS? Capital letters? John can't quite remember. He wasn't really listening earlier…
Sherlock is hovering near the Doctor, arms crossed and a complaint written all over his face, even if he wasn't saying anything.
"1891 London," the Doctor says cheerfully, pulling down a lever and then hurrying towards the door. "Fancy a look around?"
Amy and Rory follow him outside, no hesitation in their steps. Sherlock turns and gestures for John to come along. He moves reluctantly, wishing he had his cane. It would give him something to do. Support in this strange situation. Of course, John has experienced strange before, but it was normal strange… not like …this-strange.
Because this was strange.
Despite all the talk of time-travel and 1891 London that had been going on, John hadn't expected to actually be staring at what was probably legitimately 1891 London.
He recognizes the area.
Across the road, is 221B Baker Street. It looks newer, cleaner; less worn down.
The Doctor is already crossing the street, dancing between traffic, which is a mix between horse-drawn carriages and old-fashioned cars. John follows the others, his mouth hanging open as he looks around at everything.
The Doctor knocks once on the door. It's opened by a tall, older lady.
"Yes?" She asks with a patient, hospitable smile, "How may I help you?" She glances for a moment to their clothes then politely reverts her gaze to the Doctor's face.
"Hi, I'm the Doctor. We're just stopping by for a visit,"
"I'm afraid neither Mr. Holmes nor Dr. Watson are here," says the woman. "Would you like to come in, though?"
As she closes the door behind them, she says, "I'm Martha Hudson, the landlady. If you're a doctor, you must be here to see Dr. Watson."
The Doctor nods, just going along with it.
John looks over to Sherlock. There's a small crease between his brow as he frowns.
"The lot of you?"
"Oh," Amy worms her way through the small space of the front hall they've gathered in. "I'm Amy,"
"Rory," he shakes Mrs. Hudson's hand briefly.
"Excuse me," Says Sherlock somewhat sharply, "Do you know where Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson" –the corner of his mouth twitches –"Have gone?"
"Inspector Lestrade came around earlier," She nods, "I suspect they've gone to investigate a case. There was a murder down near Regent's Park… the poor fellow."
Sherlock is gone like that, and the rest of the group quickly follows.
"Ooh!" The Doctor remarks, almost skipping.
"Did I hear correctly?" John says as he half runs to keep up (he knows he heard correctly, though), "Did she say her name was Hudson and that Holmes and Watson were out?"
"Aren't you a Watson, though?" Rory asks, "And isn't he a Holmes?"
"Have your families worked together for a long time?" Amy wonders.
The Doctor glances back at them, hearing this, and grins, indicating that the answer is no.
Sherlock is paying no attention, intent on reaching his destination.
They rush recklessly through the streets, through traffic, and then they're at Regent's Park, and it doesn't look even vaguely like it does… well, in the future.
There are police officers swarming all over the area, and Sherlock is able to detect the location of the murder victim like he has a sixth sense for it. There are three men standing over the body –a short man with his neck twisted. The first is an older, bearded man, with an irritated expression; the second is a man in his late thirties, mustached and appearing quite dignified with his top hat and elegant black cane; the third man is shorter than the other two, with messy dark hair and shabbier clothing. He's talking quickly, snapping at the first man and waving his arms wildly, a maniac gleam in his eye. He stops talking abruptly and hones in on Sherlock and the others with sharp eyes.
"Hey, you can't be 'ere," Says the first man as Sherlock comes to a stop in front of them.
The Doctor reaches into his pocket and flashes the man a small leather wallet. "You will find that I am recognized internationally as an expert in"
"-Fraud." Says the dark-haired man, looking quite unimpressed.
The Doctor pauses and then blinks.
The mustached brunette frowns.
"Yes, well, sometimes that happens." The Doctor says a bit sheepishly as he shrugs, "You must be Sherlock Holmes."
Chapter Three, Part Two: Sherlock Holmes
Holmes's eyes flicker from the man –whose badge said 'International Criminal Police Organization –Doctor' –to his companions.
They're dressed somewhat strangely, especially the red-haired woman. Although quite beautiful, she's wearing a scandalously short skirt, and what appears to be a red undershirt.
Watson observes that poor Lestrade's face is growing redder and redder by the minute.
"I'm Sherlock Holmes," Holmes acknowledges, "But what I'm wondering is, who are you? You show us a wallet, as if identifying yourself, but the inside holds nothing but a piece of paper. You're companions are dressed strangely." Holmes glances to the short man with light brown hair. "You're an ex-soldier. As you approached, you walked with a limp, but your leg is, in fact, perfectly uninjured –a psychosomatic limp, if you will. Interesting." He observes the others silently, without announcing his deductions aloud, and Watson notices that the man in the dark coat and scarf is glaring at Holmes, his eyes moving just as fast, just as critically over Holmes and himself.
"I'm the Doctor," Says the man with the bow tie. He reaches out to shake Holmes's hand.
"Doctor who-?" Begins Lestrade.
"-Just the Doctor." Snaps the man with the scarf.
Watson leans forward, gripping his cane tightly, and says "Sorry, I'm not sure I caught your names."
"Oh" –And the Doctor grins at this –"This is Amy and Rory," He gestures to the woman and the man standing next to her, "And over here, John and Sherlock."
"What-?" Lestrade starts, and this time it's Holmes who interrupts snappishly:
"Oh run off, Inspector," He says impatiently, "You'll find that the murderer is 1.7 meters, brunette, and has recently visited a morgue or laboratory."
Lestrade looks ready to protest, but finally decides it's not worth the energy, and puts on his hat and calls for someone to take the corpse away.
"Sherlock." Holmes says curtly. "A Sherlock Holmes, I'll presume. Then you must be John Watson," He turns to look at the brunette, who is possibly one of the few full grown men he has ever met who is shorter than he is.
Watson leans even farther forward to look down at this 'John Watson' also.
He stands with a straight posture and doesn't allow himself to be intimidated, but does lose a bit of dignity because he has to look up to return Watson's look.
"Well, explanations are in order," the Doctor says, "We…" He steps closer, as if revealing a big secret "are time travelers. Sherlock and John here live in 221B Baker Street in just over one-hundred years –starting in the year 2010, I believe."
There's a visible twitch of Holmes' eye.
Watson is hearing the words, but as a man of science, is a strict disbeliever of fantasies such as time travel.
Meanwhile, Holmes and… Sherlock are staring each other down. Well, technically, Sherlock is staring Holmes down. He's taller and (good God, look at those flimsy wrists!) narrower, skinnier.
Downright bony, Watson thinks.
"Time travel." Holmes repeats finally. He seems to accept the explanation surprisingly easily. Watson was expecting denial; during the case with Lord Blackwood, Holmes had been one of the only people to never believe in any way that there was something 'magical' going on. "So you're saying that in a century and a few years, a Sherlock Holmes and a John Watson will live in 221B Baker Street. Let me guess. Consulting detective and ex-army-surgeon." There's a cold edge to his voice, but he's still not putting down the claims to time-travel. In a flash, Holmes has taken Watson's cane. He uses it to lift Sherlock's left hand before the man knows what's going on. "Hm." And then he unsheathes the saber within and Watson quickly jumps forward as Holmes makes to poke experimentally at the Doctor.
"Sorry," Watson finds himself apologizing on Holmes's behalf as he wrestles the sword back and sticks it back into its sheath, disguising it once more as a cane.
Rory, Amy, and John are staring at Watson with wide eyes, but he notices that the short fellow known as the other 'John Watson' is mostly staring with an expression of 'Wow, where can I get one of those?'
He can't help but feel amused at that.
Meanwhile, Sherlock is still glaring Holmes down.
"So," the Doctor says into the following quietness, "This is exciting… and awkward," He adds under his breath.
Sherlock's gaze snaps to him. "No." He says, "John, we're going home. Doctor, take us back. I'm fed up with this."
The Doctor begins to protest.
"No." Sherlock says again, "This entire escapade has been completely ridiculous! You!" He jabs an accusing finger at the Doctor, who goes cross-eyed to keep it in his view. "First you grab me in your 'TARDIS' as I fell from a building –I jumped –and you said, 'Why hello, there, want to go on an adventure?' No! Now this –this is the last straw!"
As he ranted, the Doctor's eyebrows (lack thereof) were slowly receding into his hairline (that is, they would be, if he had eyebrows).
Sherlock grabs John's arm and marches away and the Doctor glances over to Holmes and Watson. "Uh, we'll be a moment." Then he hurries after Sherlock and John.
"So, um," Rory says, "Hello."
Amy giggles.
Watson glances over to her and then to Rory and gives him a pointed look, "This is 1891," He says.
And then Rory gets a clue and takes off his jacket and gives it to Amy, who puts it on and covers up her bare arms. The skirt cannot be helped.
Chapter Three, Part Three: Sherlock
John can't find his feet as Sherlock drags him down the street, so he just stumbles along.
"Where're you going?" Asks the Doctor, who's run after them.
"Home," Sherlock says, "And you're taking us!" They turned the corner to where the TARDIS was parked and stopped.
There is a little yellow slip tucked into the window.
The Doctor plucks it up and then groans, "Parking ticket?" He whirls around, "Again?" He crumbles the ticket in his hand and shakes his fist in the air. "Change of plans, Sherlock. We're staying here until I find out who left me this parking ticket!"
Sherlock grabs it from his hand, "Are you serious?"
"Deadly!" The Doctor declares.
Sherlock looks at the ticket, "The automobile has barely been around for a year," He says, "And if you looked closely, you would see that this," He smooths the paper out, "It's American. Issued fourteenth of September, 2012."
"But I've never been to the fourteenth of September, 2012," The Doctor says. Then he grins, "It looks like we've got some out-of-time Americans to find!"
