Sherlock's deductions are really hard to write on your own. Hopefully everything else will be easier to write since I'll be taking more from the cases. Hope you like it!
Somehow, Katie ended up in 221B Baker Street with a thick "rug" around her shoulders.
"What is your name, my dear?"
"Katie, Katie Williams" Is this a hoax? It couldn't be. There's no gap in her memory, yet somehow, she's in a completely different place. Not to mention her new Victorian outfit.
"How do you feel, Miss Williams?"
"I don't know." Was she asleep? Not likely. Her body was still hurting from the life-saving tackle.
"Can you tell us what happened?"
"I-I don't know what happened." The panic began to seep through the numbness. Was she in a coma? Hypnotized? Or even… dead?
"We cannot help you if you do not give us any information." The sharp tone cut her panic short and gave her mind a focal point.
"Holmes, Miss Williams has just had a traumatic experience. Show a little patience."
"And had the young lady not been standing in the street, she would not have had a traumatic experience."
Katie found it easier to think when her mind had one thing to focus on. It just happened that it chose Mr. Sherlock Holmes. It wasn't such a strange phenomenon, really. Though chaotic at times, Holmes had always been a reliable, strong character. Her subconscious must have found comfort in that image once more.
"Thank you." Her unexpected interruption surprised the bickering roommates. "Thank you for saving me."
The detective was quicker to recover. "Not at all. You appear to have regained some of your faculties, Miss Williams. I am Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and this is my colleague, Doctor Watson. You seem to be in a bit of a predicament. I am a detective and may be able to help. Perhaps you can tell us the reason for the situation you find yourself in."
"I really don't know where I am or how I got here." Holmes' brows furrowed at her repeated statement. Mrs. Hudson chose that moment to intrude with a cup of tea, much to the displeasure of said detective.
"The last thing I remember, I was walking to a nearby park, and then I'm… Where am I?"
"You are in 221B Baker Street, London," a gentle voice answered. "My name is Mrs. Hudson, my dear. Please let me know if there is anything I can do."
"Could be a form of amnesia brought on by the near accident." How strange it was to see Doctor Watson so young and fit. He couldn't be older than late twenties or early thirties. Many of his portrayals were of him as a middle-aged man. Probably because many of the books were written as memoirs later in life. Yet he was only about 2 years older than Holmes himself and an army doctor to boot.
"You are not telling us the whole truth, Miss Williams. I cannot help you if I do not have all the facts." Katie could tell that Holmes' patience was wearing thin with all the interruptions and her seemingly lack of cooperation.
"Mr. Holmes. I have no proof of any statement I may make to you. Without said proof, you would not believe me, and I would not blame you. At best, you would send me on my way and leave me to my fate. At worst, you would send me to Bedlam and the horrors awaiting there. If I didn't live through the events leading to my current 'predicament', as you so put it, I would not believe them myself. How, then, can I confidently give you all the facts needed?"
His narrowed eyes worried her. "So you do remember something?" Ah. Yes. She did say something like that. Katie still wasn't sure what was going on, and until then, she needed to play along with the scenario that was in front of her. If she was dead or in a coma, why not live the experience? If she was hypnotized, there was really nothing she could do for now. But revealing possible foreknowledge could label her as crazy. It would also change the standard timeline, therefore taking away the baseline she could use to figure out what was going on. Revealing too much of herself could be dangerous on the off chance it was a hoax. Still, something told her that wasn't the case. Though, for now, she'd better be safe than sorry.
"It's complicated," she exhaled heavily. Intrigued, Holmes motioned with his now lit pipe for her to continue. "I wasn't lying when I said I had no idea where I was or how I got here. The last thing I remember was walking to a nearby park… in America." Mrs. Hudson dropping the tea cup she had taken to refill perfectly summarized the reactions of the three occupants.
"I beg your pardon. Did you say, America?" Watson's disbelief was understandable. A journey of several hundred miles lasting over a month was supposedly lost from her memory. All Katie could do was nod her head.
"How extraordinary."
"Perhaps you should tell us what happened leading up to this moment."
"There isn't much to tell." Mrs. Hudson handed her a new teacup and took a seat on the chaise lounge beside her. Probably to offer a kind support; which it did. "I was writing a letter to apply for acceptance to university, but after several drafts of frustration, I decided to take a walk in a nearby park and clear my head. While on my way, I stood at a street corner, waiting to safely cross, when everyone around me began to scatter. I had been lost in thought and did not notice the car careening towards me. I tried to run to any possible safety in the few seconds left. The only thing nearby, though, was a lamppost, but that would be a better protection than nothing."
"Very prudent, Miss Williams. I wonder how the cable car derailed from the track."
"Not a cable car, Doctor Watson, a horseless carriage." She had forgotten that "car" was not a term yet for automobiles. Hopefully this didn't make her even more suspicious. Holmes' face certainly gave nothing away. She was losing points left and right. At this rate she would have no chance. That made her pause. What was she hoping for?
"I have heard the term 'motor car'," Holmes surprised her. "Roughly two years ago, a Mr. Karl Benz took out a patent for one." While his statement did create an out for Katie, she also wondered what his thoughts were on her shortening the name. Though she finally knew they were somewhere around 1888.
"What happened next?"
"That's it, Mr. Holmes. As I began running to the lamp post, light reflected off the metal, blinding me, and then I was here. You know what happened since then."
"Were there any distinct sounds that you could remember?"
"Just horns, wheels, and people screaming." She couldn't tell him of the change in sound. When she looked at Holmes, she could tell he knew she was holding back.
"You are from a fashionable neighborhood. I gathered this from the possibility of walking to a nearby park and your ability to apply to university. Though you are not of the first circles, as your clothing is a bit worn and not of the top fashions. Yet you speak as one well educated, your complexion is even, and the writing callus on your right hand is largely pronounced. Thus, you are not a laborer. You are unmarried, as you do not wear any such jewelry, and you have not corrected us when we addressed you as Miss Williams."
"You are frank Mr. Holmes and are correct on all accounts." Watson looked affronted but proud of his friend; Mrs. Hudson was openly scandalized at his crass boldness; and Holmes was intently watching her. He must have wanted to get a rise or throw her off balance. Perhaps to get her to say more or see any possible give aways from a reaction. It's a shame that Katie came from a time where directness and boldness were commonplace and expected.
"And you, Miss Williams, are still not telling us all the necessary details. I'm sorry, but I cannot help you. Once you are recovered, I shall ask you to leave." His curt statement did get a reaction out of her. That last sentence broke all the focus and distraction Mr. Holmes' presence and interrogation had created. She had no way to survive in this world. No friends, family, money, occupation, home… nothing. It suddenly hit her that she was hoping to stay with these people, whom she knew she could trust, and gave her a tie to her world. It was selfish, but Katie was scared and confused. Her white face and resumed shaking did not go unnoticed by any of the trio. Hrs. Hudson began rubbing her trembling hands earnestly.
"Mr. Holmes!" "Holmes! Is there nothing you can do?! This poor girl is in great distress and possible danger. Yet you would turn her away to the wolves?"
"What can I do if she will not trust us or give me all the information needed? I cannot work with a mystery at both ends." Though still angry, Watson understood better than anyone that his friend spoke the truth.
"But if she will not reveal further details until proof can be obtained, perhaps she may offer a solution to that problem." Once again, Holmes offered her an out, and this time, hope. Though she could tell he didn't trust her. On top of his almost universal mistrust of women, she had been nothing but shady their entire interaction. She hoped that could change, but first, she would need to get past this hurdle. The entire time they had been talking, she had been trying to figure out a way to make them believe her. Katie couldn't come outright and say: "I'm from the future and possibly from a different universe where you are fictional characters." Suddenly, an idea struck her.
"There might be a way."
Some facts that might interest people:
Karl Benz did indeed take out a patent for his Motorwagen in 1886 but some newspapers and part of the patent also called it a Motorcar. Sherlock was not into current events, but this could be a revolutionary invention and could be taken advantage of by criminals.
People wore gloves in public, but took them off for things like tea and meals. So Holmes could have seen her bare hands.
While it was not necessarily against propriety for a woman to be alone with a man for business, Mrs. Hudson wanted to be in the room for the comfort of a shaken young woman among strange men.
