As Reed and Mary sipped their tea, a muffled discussion took place between them.
"Now, do you believe me?" Mary asked, almost saucily.
"Until we see this Mr. Holmes Mary, no." Reed replied, kind of irately, then continued.
"If this is actually Sherlock Holmes Mary, what are we going to do? We do not have a case to consult him about!"
Mary responded in a voice that was a cross between sarcastic and shocked.
"I am very surprised at you Father. You are the very last person I would expect to say, "What are we going to do?" on the entire planet, no, make that universe. Everyone, including I know you are one of smartest people in America Father. To cut to the chase, why don't you cook up a case before it is too late?"
Without saying a word, Reed sat in his chair, sipping the tea Mrs. Hudson gave him ten minutes earlier, and pondered what kind of "case" should be given to the man named Mr. Holmes he and Mary were getting ready to meet. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Mrs. Hudson returned to the room Reed and Mary were waiting patiently in.
"I hope you found the tea and scones to your liking. Mr. Holmes is now ready to see you. Just proceed on up the stairs."
As she said that, Mrs. Hudson led the duo to the stairwell across from the miniature room they had just left. After guiding them, Mrs. Hudson went back into the tiny parlor. Reed and Mary looked at each other, then at top of the stairs.
"Well Father, are you ready to be disproved in your theory that Sherlock Holmes has never existed?" Mary asked sarcastically.
Reed did not say or do anything, except give Mary a slightly dirty look as they slowly trodded up the stairs to Mr. Holmes' apartment. Time seemed to slow to a halt as the pair made the trip up. When they finally reached the top, both Reed and Mary would not admit to it, but they were extremely nervous. Despite this nervousness, Reed prepared to gently knock on the door to the apartment, when he and Mary heard.
"Watson, our visitors are outside, open the door to let them in!"
With a slight creek, the door opened, and out came a well built, middle-aged man in a gray suit, and a bushy moustache covering the area above his upper lip. At the first glance of Reed and Mary, Dr. Watson stretched out his arm, and held out his hand for Reed to shake.
"Good evening sir! Will you please come in!" Watson said in greeting Reed.
As soon as Reed entered, Mary followed behind. Watson saw her, and exclaimed.
"What an adorable lass! What is your name?"
Mary, being so tense due to the excitement of actually getting to talk to two of the most famous characters in literature, could barely get out what Watson requested from her.
"M...m...m...mary!"
"Is she shy?' Watson asked Reed.
"Well, yes she is, what do you prefer I call you?" Reed said in a much calmer demeanor than his stepdaughter.
"Watson is fine." Watson replied gently.
The room Watson led Reed and Mary into was much more nicely sized than the parlor the stepfather and stepdaughter had waited in. In the room, various portraits and maps hung on the walls. There were four chairs, one at the desk on one side, and the other three positioned in the center, making a quaint living area. The desk had interesting kinds of miscellany upon it. This miscellany included a violin, a small area set up to do chemistry experiments at, a pipe, and neat piles of papers and books. When nobody was looking, Mary pinched herself on the arm to make sure she was not dreaming. As Watson and his guests walked into the room, the floorboards beneath them squeaked. It was not that loud a noise, but it was audible enough for one particular person, who was sitting at the desk to hear. From behind the turned chair in front of the desk, a sardonic, yet uniquely kind voice sounded.
"Watson, my friend, you have had your juncture with our guests. They have come to consult me, not you."
Swiftly, the chair at the desk turned with a sound similar to the door opening, and in it was the legendary consulting detective and star of over sixty works by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Sherlock Holmes. He had the exact appearance as the man Mary had seen in the illustrations in her book. The man in the chair before Reed and Mary had the piercing eyes, the black hair, the hawk-like nose, the thin lips, and the gaunt appearance he was described in the stories to have. It was not obvious, but Mary felt like she was in a state of euphoria. She glanced at her stepfather, and gave him a look that said.
"I told you so."
Reed superficially did not see the sardonic glimpse Mary gave him, for he was just as amazed at the sight of Sherlock as she was. Sherlock quickly caught on to their consternation.
"Your bewilderment at my presence speaks of the possibility that perhaps you have heard of me."
Mary got ready to speak, when Reed gave her an expression that signaled he do the talking.
"Why yes we have, Mr. Holmes?"
"Very few people as in none have ever called me on a first name basis." The sly, thin man before Reed and Mary answered.
"Alright Mr. Holmes, in response to what you said about us knowing who you are, we have read your friend, Watson's outstanding chronicles of your cases in the newspaper."
All was silent for a second, as the dark suited man in the immense chair sat brooding. Reed and Marilyn looked to Watson, who remained quiet at his friend's requisition. He nodded towards the two as his way of saying thanks for their complimenting his work as a chronicler.
"Do pray tell, what precisely are you here for? It is quite obvious that you are here without a case for me to dwell upon, and solve." Sherlock said with a penetrating stare.
"Well, the truth is Mr. Holmes that we are newspaper reporters. We are wanting to write an article for the London Times on your simply incredible cases, and what your secret is to solving them." Reed responded.
Again, silence followed. Mary noticed how Sherlock's eyes seemed to move about rather fast, as if examining her and Reed, but trying to do it with out being noticeable.
"You can quit with the fibs Reed Richards, you are not a newspaper reporter." Sherlock astutely said.
Reed had a look of amazed apallment on his face. He blurted out.
"How did you know my name?"
"It is absurdly simple. Your name is monogrammed on your parasol, Dr. Richards."
Mary could easily tell that her stepfather could not believe it. She was extremely sure Sherlock could sense it too.
"You see Dr. Richards, I could see in the room's reflection in the window you and your daughter's glancing around, observing everything within my study. I have always noticed the best of scientists and doctors to be highly observant. One of the many reasons I find my colleague here to be most valuable in accompanying me on my cases."
Reed knew it was too late, Sherlock had already caught on to who they were. He decided before they were possibly in any more trouble, to let Sherlock know why and how they ended up in his study that particular moment.
"I suppose you would like to know why my daughter and I are here..."
"Well yes, Dr. Richards, that would indeed be of significant help."
Reed told Sherlock and Watson about how he and Mary just happened to be outside of his apartment, and were standing there talking, when Mrs. Hudson came out asking if they were there to see Sherlock for a case.
"So you see, my daughter here not taking time out to think, but knowing this was a chance to meet a wonderful, incredible, and prominent person like you very much had her say "Yes." before I actually said "No."."
Sherlock and Watson stood there for a couple of minutes, with blank faces, contemplating the slightly true, yet slightly false story Reed had told them. Suddenly, in a way that startled both Reed and Mary, Sherlock let out an emphatic laugh. At the same time, a smile had formed upon Watson's face.
"As queer as many would find this fact, I admire anyone, especially a child like yours Dr. Richards that has I believe what the natives of your country, America would call moxie. She indeed has been well trained by you so far Dr. Richards, I highly recommend you sustain your training with her. If I ever intend to marry a woman, and have a child, I would hope to have one as mannerful, but also as free spirited as your daughter, Mary, Dr. Richards."
Sherlock's small speech did nothing more but increase the amazement Reed had for the strikingly brilliant man who had his pointer fingers touching each other in quite an interesting position while talking to him, and thinking over everything said the whole time. Reed got ready to ask Sherlock how he knew that he and his stepdaughter were from America, but Sherlock spoke before any words left Reed's lips, almost as if he could read the intelligent man from the future's mind.
"The fact that you are not of this country is quite audible in your voice Dr. Richards. Everyone I have met and known who are natives of Great Britain have a very peculiar accent. You and your daughter possess rather extraordinary, yet plain accents. Accents only Americans can possess."
Reed was speechless. He was astounded by not only the very powers of observation Sherlock demonstrated, but the very fact that he reminded Reed of someone he knew very closely in his own time and life, himself.
"You and your child shall be receiving more than just an autograph from me and my colleague. You see Dr. Richards, I am feeling mighty generous this evening, and I am wondering if perhaps, you and your daughter would like to dine with my friend and I."
"Well, Mr. Holmes, it is awfully kind of you to invite us to have dinner with you, but my daughter and I do not want to waste any more of your time."
"Oh, you and your child are not squandering Watson and I's time at all Dr. Richards. As a matter of fact, you and your child strike me as being incredibly unique compared to some of the clients I have had over the past couple of years."
Reed said no more about declining Sherlock's invitation to have dinner with he and Watson. For the rest of the evening, Reed and Mary not only enjoyed what was an incredibly scrumptious meal, they had what was one of the most intriguing discussions with one of the most intriguing men they had ever met. Sherlock and Reed conversed for almost an hour alone on the subject of chemistry. Watson and Mary descanted on who their favorite writer, and most favorite novel was. Mary found it amusing that one of the books Watson said fascinated him, The Time Machine by H.G. Wells happened to be on the subject of how she and her stepfather got to be where they were. Though, she did not tell Watson of the very fact that they got there via a time machine. Overall, it was one of the most interesting nights the three men and girl had ever spent in their lives. When the time had come for Reed and Mary to go, all thoughts on what had happened earlier between her believing, and his not believing in the very person they had spent an entire evening with had practically been abandoned by the two heroes from a time ahead.
"Now, do you believe me?" Mary asked, almost saucily.
"Until we see this Mr. Holmes Mary, no." Reed replied, kind of irately, then continued.
"If this is actually Sherlock Holmes Mary, what are we going to do? We do not have a case to consult him about!"
Mary responded in a voice that was a cross between sarcastic and shocked.
"I am very surprised at you Father. You are the very last person I would expect to say, "What are we going to do?" on the entire planet, no, make that universe. Everyone, including I know you are one of smartest people in America Father. To cut to the chase, why don't you cook up a case before it is too late?"
Without saying a word, Reed sat in his chair, sipping the tea Mrs. Hudson gave him ten minutes earlier, and pondered what kind of "case" should be given to the man named Mr. Holmes he and Mary were getting ready to meet. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Mrs. Hudson returned to the room Reed and Mary were waiting patiently in.
"I hope you found the tea and scones to your liking. Mr. Holmes is now ready to see you. Just proceed on up the stairs."
As she said that, Mrs. Hudson led the duo to the stairwell across from the miniature room they had just left. After guiding them, Mrs. Hudson went back into the tiny parlor. Reed and Mary looked at each other, then at top of the stairs.
"Well Father, are you ready to be disproved in your theory that Sherlock Holmes has never existed?" Mary asked sarcastically.
Reed did not say or do anything, except give Mary a slightly dirty look as they slowly trodded up the stairs to Mr. Holmes' apartment. Time seemed to slow to a halt as the pair made the trip up. When they finally reached the top, both Reed and Mary would not admit to it, but they were extremely nervous. Despite this nervousness, Reed prepared to gently knock on the door to the apartment, when he and Mary heard.
"Watson, our visitors are outside, open the door to let them in!"
With a slight creek, the door opened, and out came a well built, middle-aged man in a gray suit, and a bushy moustache covering the area above his upper lip. At the first glance of Reed and Mary, Dr. Watson stretched out his arm, and held out his hand for Reed to shake.
"Good evening sir! Will you please come in!" Watson said in greeting Reed.
As soon as Reed entered, Mary followed behind. Watson saw her, and exclaimed.
"What an adorable lass! What is your name?"
Mary, being so tense due to the excitement of actually getting to talk to two of the most famous characters in literature, could barely get out what Watson requested from her.
"M...m...m...mary!"
"Is she shy?' Watson asked Reed.
"Well, yes she is, what do you prefer I call you?" Reed said in a much calmer demeanor than his stepdaughter.
"Watson is fine." Watson replied gently.
The room Watson led Reed and Mary into was much more nicely sized than the parlor the stepfather and stepdaughter had waited in. In the room, various portraits and maps hung on the walls. There were four chairs, one at the desk on one side, and the other three positioned in the center, making a quaint living area. The desk had interesting kinds of miscellany upon it. This miscellany included a violin, a small area set up to do chemistry experiments at, a pipe, and neat piles of papers and books. When nobody was looking, Mary pinched herself on the arm to make sure she was not dreaming. As Watson and his guests walked into the room, the floorboards beneath them squeaked. It was not that loud a noise, but it was audible enough for one particular person, who was sitting at the desk to hear. From behind the turned chair in front of the desk, a sardonic, yet uniquely kind voice sounded.
"Watson, my friend, you have had your juncture with our guests. They have come to consult me, not you."
Swiftly, the chair at the desk turned with a sound similar to the door opening, and in it was the legendary consulting detective and star of over sixty works by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Sherlock Holmes. He had the exact appearance as the man Mary had seen in the illustrations in her book. The man in the chair before Reed and Mary had the piercing eyes, the black hair, the hawk-like nose, the thin lips, and the gaunt appearance he was described in the stories to have. It was not obvious, but Mary felt like she was in a state of euphoria. She glanced at her stepfather, and gave him a look that said.
"I told you so."
Reed superficially did not see the sardonic glimpse Mary gave him, for he was just as amazed at the sight of Sherlock as she was. Sherlock quickly caught on to their consternation.
"Your bewilderment at my presence speaks of the possibility that perhaps you have heard of me."
Mary got ready to speak, when Reed gave her an expression that signaled he do the talking.
"Why yes we have, Mr. Holmes?"
"Very few people as in none have ever called me on a first name basis." The sly, thin man before Reed and Mary answered.
"Alright Mr. Holmes, in response to what you said about us knowing who you are, we have read your friend, Watson's outstanding chronicles of your cases in the newspaper."
All was silent for a second, as the dark suited man in the immense chair sat brooding. Reed and Marilyn looked to Watson, who remained quiet at his friend's requisition. He nodded towards the two as his way of saying thanks for their complimenting his work as a chronicler.
"Do pray tell, what precisely are you here for? It is quite obvious that you are here without a case for me to dwell upon, and solve." Sherlock said with a penetrating stare.
"Well, the truth is Mr. Holmes that we are newspaper reporters. We are wanting to write an article for the London Times on your simply incredible cases, and what your secret is to solving them." Reed responded.
Again, silence followed. Mary noticed how Sherlock's eyes seemed to move about rather fast, as if examining her and Reed, but trying to do it with out being noticeable.
"You can quit with the fibs Reed Richards, you are not a newspaper reporter." Sherlock astutely said.
Reed had a look of amazed apallment on his face. He blurted out.
"How did you know my name?"
"It is absurdly simple. Your name is monogrammed on your parasol, Dr. Richards."
Mary could easily tell that her stepfather could not believe it. She was extremely sure Sherlock could sense it too.
"You see Dr. Richards, I could see in the room's reflection in the window you and your daughter's glancing around, observing everything within my study. I have always noticed the best of scientists and doctors to be highly observant. One of the many reasons I find my colleague here to be most valuable in accompanying me on my cases."
Reed knew it was too late, Sherlock had already caught on to who they were. He decided before they were possibly in any more trouble, to let Sherlock know why and how they ended up in his study that particular moment.
"I suppose you would like to know why my daughter and I are here..."
"Well yes, Dr. Richards, that would indeed be of significant help."
Reed told Sherlock and Watson about how he and Mary just happened to be outside of his apartment, and were standing there talking, when Mrs. Hudson came out asking if they were there to see Sherlock for a case.
"So you see, my daughter here not taking time out to think, but knowing this was a chance to meet a wonderful, incredible, and prominent person like you very much had her say "Yes." before I actually said "No."."
Sherlock and Watson stood there for a couple of minutes, with blank faces, contemplating the slightly true, yet slightly false story Reed had told them. Suddenly, in a way that startled both Reed and Mary, Sherlock let out an emphatic laugh. At the same time, a smile had formed upon Watson's face.
"As queer as many would find this fact, I admire anyone, especially a child like yours Dr. Richards that has I believe what the natives of your country, America would call moxie. She indeed has been well trained by you so far Dr. Richards, I highly recommend you sustain your training with her. If I ever intend to marry a woman, and have a child, I would hope to have one as mannerful, but also as free spirited as your daughter, Mary, Dr. Richards."
Sherlock's small speech did nothing more but increase the amazement Reed had for the strikingly brilliant man who had his pointer fingers touching each other in quite an interesting position while talking to him, and thinking over everything said the whole time. Reed got ready to ask Sherlock how he knew that he and his stepdaughter were from America, but Sherlock spoke before any words left Reed's lips, almost as if he could read the intelligent man from the future's mind.
"The fact that you are not of this country is quite audible in your voice Dr. Richards. Everyone I have met and known who are natives of Great Britain have a very peculiar accent. You and your daughter possess rather extraordinary, yet plain accents. Accents only Americans can possess."
Reed was speechless. He was astounded by not only the very powers of observation Sherlock demonstrated, but the very fact that he reminded Reed of someone he knew very closely in his own time and life, himself.
"You and your child shall be receiving more than just an autograph from me and my colleague. You see Dr. Richards, I am feeling mighty generous this evening, and I am wondering if perhaps, you and your daughter would like to dine with my friend and I."
"Well, Mr. Holmes, it is awfully kind of you to invite us to have dinner with you, but my daughter and I do not want to waste any more of your time."
"Oh, you and your child are not squandering Watson and I's time at all Dr. Richards. As a matter of fact, you and your child strike me as being incredibly unique compared to some of the clients I have had over the past couple of years."
Reed said no more about declining Sherlock's invitation to have dinner with he and Watson. For the rest of the evening, Reed and Mary not only enjoyed what was an incredibly scrumptious meal, they had what was one of the most intriguing discussions with one of the most intriguing men they had ever met. Sherlock and Reed conversed for almost an hour alone on the subject of chemistry. Watson and Mary descanted on who their favorite writer, and most favorite novel was. Mary found it amusing that one of the books Watson said fascinated him, The Time Machine by H.G. Wells happened to be on the subject of how she and her stepfather got to be where they were. Though, she did not tell Watson of the very fact that they got there via a time machine. Overall, it was one of the most interesting nights the three men and girl had ever spent in their lives. When the time had come for Reed and Mary to go, all thoughts on what had happened earlier between her believing, and his not believing in the very person they had spent an entire evening with had practically been abandoned by the two heroes from a time ahead.