The three men and young girl walked down the streets of London. Not really looking at each other. Every so often they, each in turn, would look at each other out of the corner of their eyes.

The differences between them were vast, but so were the similarities.

While Shirley and Sherlock-Modern both had dark hair, Shirley's eyes were also dark but Sherlock-Modern had lighter eyes. And then there was the way they walked. Sherlock-Modern was stiff and walked with purpose. Shirley was much freer in her movements, letting her arms swing about as if they were on a leisurely stroll. All this excitement had managed to take her mind off her sudden sugar depredation and instead her mind was swirling with different hypothesis. Same with Sherlock-Modern, the boredom had been replaced with the excitement of the hunt for truth.

The two more elder Sherlocks both had similarities two that went further than their looks. But it was true, both had 'almost there' beards. But while Sherlock-American looked clean and well kept in his appearances, Sherlock-Victorian looked like he had been shut up for days. His cloths, while fine, were ruffled and mussed. Tale-tell signs of an addiction that was not being treated.

"So," Shirley finally said, "does anyone have any jokes? I've heard that jokes and stories of one's life are often good conversation starters."

"You're going through detox," Sherlock-Modern said, as though this weren't news at all.

Shirley merely grunted in some kind of response.

Sherlock-American asked, "Substance?"

"Sugar."

All three gave her looks.

Shirley shoved her hands in her pockets, "Jonathan found my stash and locked me in my room for hours. Your turn." She looked to Sherlock-Modern. "If I'm an addicted to sugar, I can only imagine what grown-up male versions of me are."

"Rehabilitated," Sherlock-American said, "completely."

"Don't need it," Sherlock-Modern said, as though heroine and other addictive substances weren't a big problem for him.

Sherlock-Victorian didn't say anything. Everyone already knew he was still taking whatever it was that made him act so erratic and his appearance be so disheveled as it was. He scratched his cheek and gave a small cough in the silence as it tensed.

"Your Jonathan, what is he like? Did you meet as school?"

"We are…were flatmates," he said. "He's just recently been married."

Sherlock-Victorian gave a noise, as though agreeing with him. "Dr. Watson as well."

Sherlock-American, "Unmarried."

"Currently trying to snog Karrie Martinson," Shirley said, "and he has succeeded. I've noticed lipstick stains on his neck and collar."

The four people stopped in front of 221b Baker St.

Shirley walked up to the door and opened it and, out of habit, shouted, "Mrs. Hudson, tea and cookies!"

A large teapot was thrown at her.

Thanks to the quick hand of Sherlock-Victorian, Shirley was spared a nasty blow to the head.

"Sherlock!" Two men and a woman called upon seeing the three men and one girl at the door.

"Shirley!"

"Jonathan," Shirley said, as if almost becoming knocked unconscious was something that happened to her every day. "There you are."

Jonathan ran over to his friend, "I thought you were lost."

"Ridiculous, I knew exactly where I was," she smoothed her wild black hair back a bit and peered around the kitchen. "So…I see you have made some new friends."

An Asian woman in her mid twenties was standing near a man in the same type of clothing that Sherlock-Victorian was wearing, only his had mustache and carried a cane. Another young man stood near the woman. He had lighter hair and seemed to be slightly afraid of the events that were unfolding around him.

"John."

"Watson."

"Joan."

"Sugar," Shirley had found a pot of sugar and she was digging into it with a spoon.

Jonathan made an attempt to swipe the jar from her, but was instantly slapped with the metal spoon.

"Mine."