AN: Super Important! It is highly recommended that you at least read The Case of the Missing Heart before reading this. Possibly even The Question of Faith in Baskerville, at least the Prologue. You might be able to squeak by, but you will be very confused concerning Stephen's origins if you don't read at least the first story. More in the ending notes.

Prologue

Stephen moved within the flow of London foot traffic. He glanced behind, but failed to see what to him or his "brother" would be normal: one John Watson a step or two behind. The shorter doctor regularly had to work double to keep pace with the longer-limbed Sherlock Holmes. Being Sherlock's Nobody, identical twin in all ways aside from creation, Stephen could keep up with Sherlock and still carried the developed habit of checking back on the dear doctor.

Stephen sighed, forcing himself to look forward again. "This isn't his London. They're not here."

About three weeks after Irene Adler had been arrested and the Death Plane saved from discovery, Stephen had done what he had been putting off for about a month. He left. 221B. Baker Street. London. England. Sherlock's world. He left it all. In the park that John had revealed where one Mike Stamford helped change his life, Stephen called Riku for a way off world.

"Why do you want to leave?" Riku asked as Stephen settled onboard the gummi ship.

"I don't want to," Stephen answered. "But I have to."

The silver-haired teen glanced back from the pilot seat yet didn't say more until they were away from the world of 221B London. "Why did you have to?" Riku asked quietly as they drifted through the star strewn sky.

"Sherlock's world was never meant to support magic," Stephen said. "John, Sherlock, and Molly are fine. The world embraces their keyblades and magic because it helps to create a barrier against the Darkness. My magic . . . it's different. I'm not sure how but it clashes with the . . . well, 'natural forces' is the best I can come up with.

"If I had stayed, one or both of us would have been destroyed. I have enough self-preservation to get out, and I'm just selfish enough to not want to lose my friends."

"I get it," Riku said. "So, want to search out a couple different Londons to find one that does support magic?"

"Yes, I think so," Stephen said. "At least start with the familiar, and if it gets too difficult, I will try traveling around that world or contact you again."

"I'll have my phone on," Riku said.

"Even if the war is still on?" Stephen asked.

Riku sighed. "It's tough right now, but we're gathering allies. We'll make it."

"Would you like my help?" Stephen asked.

Riku shook his head. "We're needing those who are well-seasoned in the battle against the Darkness. Yes, Moriarty and his heartless were challenges, the final boss of your world, but . . ."

"He was mere child's play compared to what you and your friends have already fought," Stephen said.

Riku nodded. "Sora and I could have taken him on and defeated him in roughly the same time slot as the whole lot of us did."

"Wow." Stephen huffed a chuckle. "Thanks for not bruising our egos with that."

Riku shared a small smile. "You're welcome."

"Hey! Watch it!"

Stephen jumped, dancing away from the irate man. "Sorry, lost in thought." He weaved his way to the side of the walk, closer to the buildings, so he could catch his bearings. Thanks to Sherlock's memories, he could figure out where he was in London from any location.

He blinked as he saw a building he didn't recognize. It nearly blended in with the rest of the buildings crowded in the street. Save for an unusual rose window near the top. A rose window with metalwork fashioned into some mysterious rune. Then he realized, something was calling to him from that house. The power meshed with his. Maybe he could find answers, a teacher here.

He quickly but carefully navigated to the other side of the street to the house. He paused, rapping at the door. It didn't look like a private residence, but one could never be too sure. He waited before rapping again. The door swung open.

He looked about as he stepped in. No one was at the door. "Hello?"

The door swung shut with a click.

Stephen whirled round but found himself grabbed from behind and shoved against the wall. "Get off me!"

"Can't do that," a man said at his ear, pressing Stephen's captured wrist harder to the small of his back.

"He's in the wrong time and place," a familiar voice said. "How is that possible?"

"You're the Ancient One's current student," the captor pointed out.

"I am Stephen Strange Holmes," Stephen said, trying to turn far enough to see his captor. All he could catch were rounded Asian features. "Don't bother trying to confirm with my brothers. It is understood that we ignore each other whenever I'm on my own assignments."

"What do you say to that, Master Watson?" the Asian asked.

Stephen turned his attention ahead of him and felt his heart stop in shock.

John Watson stood just inside a rotunda-like room, clothed in brown robes similar in style to Stephen's own preferred style (even if he'd had to abandon them to blend in). Everything from his short, dirty blond hair to his short, compact build was identical to his brother's flatmate. Except for his eyes. Something was missing from them. A light that Sherlock was still becoming accustomed to, that Stephen had never seen John without. That absence left this John's eyes dark and dead in comparison.

"He could very well pass as my flatmate's twin," John admitted. "But he is not. He's not even from this world."

"Dr. Watson –"

"I'm not a doctor," John said, eyes flashing.

"Captain –"

"Captain neither!" John snapped. "I suggest you start explaining yourself, especially what you are."

"I'm a human," Stephen said, starting to feel exasperated.

"With only a partial heart gem?" his captor asked, skeptically. "Try again. Tell us what you are and your purpose before we strip you down to a helpless, lifeless puppet."

Stephen sagged against the wall. There went keeping world order. "I am Stephen Strange, Nobody of Sherlock Holmes," he answered. "Instead of forcing me to rejoin him, Sherlock allowed me a chance to become my own person. I could use magic, but it didn't agree with the forces of Sherlock's world. So, I left, searching for a place similar to his world where I could study without putting my Other, his friends, and world at risk."

A quiet moment. "How long have you lived?" his captor asked.

"Working on about three months," Stephen answered.

"I would have guessed six months from your heart gem," John said.

Stephen chuckled. "I guess Sherlock's girlfriend gave me a jumpstart. She restored his true form from his heartless form through pure light drowning in true love." He met John's eyes. "How can you tell what my heart gem looks like?"

John took a deep breath before pacing back, further into the rotunda. "I am also a Nobody," he confessed, "of an Everett Ross. He doesn't recall any of it. He was restored in such a way that I was unneeded and he has no memory of the events that took place."

"It would seem that Nobodies naturally come with a power set," Stephen noted, straightening as his captor loosened his hold.

"Apparently," John said with a chuckle as he turned. He stiffened, eyes widening. "Wong!"

The sound of a blunt object meeting flesh pressed Stephen against the wall once again. Someone had knocked the man out. Hopefully no more than that.

"I wonder why I didn't see it before now," the assailant said. The click of a handgun's safety turning off echoed around the room.

Stephen rolled his eyes. Of course he would meet this world's consulting detective.

"Sherlock," John said, spreading his hands in a non-defensive, placating manner. "Please, give me a chance to explain."

"So you can escape? Drag this world into Darkness? I think not," Sherlock answered coolly. Under that coolness was a hurt, a betrayal that struck the heart.

Stephen swore as he attempted to move so he could settle Wong on the floor. "Use that brain of yours!" he snapped at Sherlock. He found Wong's pulse: strong and steady. Good. "What makes him more dangerous than anyone else? What gives you reason to think he's dangerous? What past experience offers that idea?"

"Nobodies aren't meant to exist," Sherlock returned, never turning from defenseless John. "They are heartless, unfeeling. They will destroy everything in order to claim hearts that were never theirs to claim."

John, dear, self-sacrificing, self-doubting John stood there, waiting to accept his fate. Resigned even as tears silently crept down his face.

"Now," Sherlock said, "I will rid this world of two such threats now."

Stephen leaped to his feet and John's side as Sherlock's finger tightened on the trigger. He summoned magic shields just in time to deflect a bullet into a wall.

Sherlock jolted, staring at him.

"Yes, I'm your 'twin,'" Stephen said. "No, I'm not you; I'm not your Nobody. Honestly, my Other has more sense than to shoot his best friend without cause. And how do I know that? Because he didn't try shooting his John Watson when faced with the possibility of him being Moriarty."

Sherlock's eyes darted between the two of them. "What do you know about Moriarty?"

"Ah, no invitations to a great game yet," Stephen guessed.

"Tell me!" Sherlock shouted.

"First, I need to know most recent developments," Stephen said. "I can't risk some paradox by sharing too much."

Sherlock glared at him. "We recently solved the reason a banker was murdered. A Chinese smuggling ring."

"So, the Blind Banker case," Stephen said. He took a deep breath. "After a time, you will receive a package through Scotland Yard. That will be the first of the game Moriarty will play with you. Do not play into his hands. Solve the puzzles, yes. But his 'pawns' are people, people who are terrified and sentenced to death if you fail. Keep that in mind. Oh, and brush up on the solar system, particularly star systems through the centuries."

"From the future and another world," John said. "Interesting."

Sherlock's attention snapped to John again. "Do not think I have forgotten you, Nobody. You and your ilk are threats to all worlds."

"Because we lack hearts?" Stephen demanded, angry. "We have no reason to steal hearts and I can prove it." He pulled on the world's magic, bringing out the reflections of all present heart gems.

He barely heard John's shocked and frantic cry as another magic enveloped them. The room around them appeared fractured, like a broken mirror.

"I have no idea what you are doing," John said his voice echoing slightly. "I can't risk you harming the world just to prove a point."

"Ah, another realm," Stephen said. "This is why I'm in need of a teacher."

"Mirror Dimension, not realm," John corrected. "Anything done here will have no effect on reality. A protection, and a prison for the most dangerous."

"Noted," Stephen said. He glanced over at the other Sherlock, but the detective seemed unmoved by the care John was showing their world. He slightly shook his head as he finished his objective.

Four heart gems softly glowed before, or in Wong's case above their owners. Wong's heart was whole, a chip or two but well cared for. John's gem was fully formed and pristine, just a year or two old, though a slight shadow revealed an emotional darkness. Stephen's heart was half-formed, remnants of Molly's Love and Light still twinkling in its shattered depths.

"Sherlock," John breathed, a ting of a fresh crack sounding from his heart.

The detective's heart gem was shattered. It appeared that all the pieces were still there but they were loosely free floating around each other. This wasn't recent, something from Sherlock's childhood had caused this near irreparable damage. However, some of the pieces had started to drift closer together in a slow healing. Most likely John's doing.

John reached toward his friend but pulled himself back before Sherlock could see.

Sherlock didn't notice, enraptured by the hearts, particularly his own. He tentatively touched the shattered crystal. "How is John's heart whole while mine is so damaged?"

"Some of it, I suspect has to do with literal age," Stephen said. "Your damage was also caused by some childhood trauma, trauma you never properly learned how to heal from. And frankly, I would recommend not poking at it until your heart has healed more."

"And how do you Nobodies gain hearts?" Sherlock asked.

"As we grow and become our own person, we develop hearts," Stephen said. "John has been a Nobody for at least a year or two, possibly more. Now, this isn't true of all Nobodies, to my understanding. Nobodies need to be from people of extremely strong hearts in order to retain the appearance of their Other. It is only these who can properly grow heart gems.

"However, an Organization of thirteen Nobodies had been lied to, saying that in order to gain hearts, they had to collect hearts. They were told that they must rely on Darkness. But every bit of it was a lie.

"So as you can see, John has no reason to attack worlds to gain a heart, and I am well on my way of fashioning my own heart. We wish to protect our worlds, not destroy them." Stephen sighed. "That's why I left my own world in the first place, to protect it from myself."

"Master Watson!"

At the sound of the fractured voice John swept them out of the Mirror Dimension, prompting Stephen to release the power showing hearts.

A woman clothed in yellow robes approached them. Her form was lithe and willow-like as she took in everything at a glance, dismissed it as no trouble before turning to John.

"You're not worried that I carry a gun?" Sherlock asked.

"Frankly, no, Mr. Holmes," she answered. "Seeing as how if I so wished I could destroy it even from where I stand."

Stephen's eyebrows shot up. Well, that could prove useful if he was taught that.

"Master Watson," the woman said, "we have a problem."

John started after her as the woman turned.

Stephen vaguely noticed Wong stirring as he and Sherlock scrambled after the two wizards. The two near twins trotted along as John and the woman strode who-knew-where.

"What is it?" John asked briskly.

"A magician from another world is in great trouble," the woman answered. "He was sent back in time just before he was fatally injured by his assailant."

"So we can't just send him back," John observed.

"No, especially considering the Eye of Agamotto was the teleportation method," the woman confirmed. "It's a miracle he could contact us at all."

"Just how far back did they send the poor chap?" John asked.

"Beyond the accident that ruined his hands, but just as he was meeting the peak of his practice," she answered as they stepped through a doorway that shimmered like water in her wake.

Stephen extended a hand through and experienced an odd sensation of literally being in two places at once. He crossed the threshold and turned as Sherlock passed through. "That is amazing," Stephen murmured.

"It's never twins and it most definitely is never triplets," Sherlock muttered fiercely.

Stephen turned quizzically to him, noting his slightly pale face before turning to where the woman and John were finally stopping. His mouth dropped open as he saw an older version of himself in his blue robes, a red cloak floating about him. But, he was see-through like a disembodied ghost.

The ghost bowed. "Sorcerer Supreme, Guardian of the London Sanctum," he greeted.

"Sorcerer Supreme," John greeted in kind with a bow.

"Guardian of the New York Sanctum," the woman returned, a knowing smirk on her lips.

"How can we help?" John asked.

"I'm too far gone for a proper healing I'm afraid," the guardian said, his voice painfully American despite looking like Stephen and Sherlock. "My body was still trying to recover from being attacked by magic when the blow came to the back of my head." He sighed. "And my spirit is too weary to go through this all a second time."

The Sorcerer Supreme opened a window in the air, revealing the man's body. It was noticeably younger. The remnants of a tattered black suit could barely be seen as he was prepped and rushed to an operating theater. One doctor appeared especially worried with forcibly dry eyes.

"So we repeat the question," Sherlock said, finally recovered, "how can we help?"

The ghost nodded. "I recently discovered a merge spell in one of the Ancient One's tomes," he answered. He nodded to the woman. "I trust you know the one I mean."

"Of course," the woman said. She disappeared through a doorway on their left before returning a moment later with a dark, leatherbound book. She already had it open and was running her hand along the pages as she searched for the exact writing. "The safest one is the most complicated," she said. "Are you certain all the requirements can be met?"

"I asked Jehovah to direct me to the place where I could find the one needed," he answered. "He's never failed me before, and He won't this time. One of your visitors perhaps."

Stephen turned to Sherlock as the detective turned to him. A trace of terror shadowed Sherlock's eyes. "What are the requirements?" Stephen asked, turning back to the three wizards.

"Appearances must be similar if not exact," the Sorcerer Supreme answered. "Share the same main interest, blood type, be roughly the same age, similar beliefs, and the surviving merger must be willing to temporarily lose their memories of their life before."

Stephen breathed deeply. "So, the memories will be restored with time? I have precious few memories I can truly call my own and I don't wish to lose them forever."

"You will regain all memories after time has passed," the woman said, giving John the book so he could look over the spell as well. "It may be a few months to a few years after the merge takes place."

Stephen nodded, turning to the ghost. "Profession?"

"Doctor, specialized as neurosurgeon before an accident damaged my hands." He held up the appendages that even now trembled the slightest bit. "For the last few years, I have been studying magic, acting as both Sorcerer Supreme and Guardian of the New York Sanctum. Torn between duty and the love of my city."

"Beliefs?" Stephen asked.

"I follow the One True God, Yahweh, having accepted the sacrifice of His Son for my sins," the man answered. "Admittedly, considering where my body now is," he nodded to the still frantic scene, "it may be better to only have a passing interest at most. I believed myself quite self-sufficient at that point in life."

Stephen drew a deep breath. "I can do it. I wish to study medicine and magic. Last I checked, my blood type is B positive. In literal years I am woefully behind, but physically, I believe I could be a match."

Setting the book on a pedestal, John quickly drew golden, sparking lines through the air. Splitting the runes into two perfect copies, he sent one to Stephen and the other to the ghost. The ancient runes passed through the both of them twice before returning to hover side by side in front of John.

"You're her prodigy," Sherlock murmured.

"I'm not sure about that," John said, ducking his head even as he studied the runes.

"He is," the Ancient One confirmed. "I attempt not to show favor to any one student, but I do believe John Watson has the skills to one day be my successor."

Sherlock huffed a breath. "Well, I suppose I'll have to accept magic as part of the natural order of the world."

"And I thought it was nothing more but poppycock," John said, his tone suggesting this had been discussed as often as the importance of astronomy had been between Stephen's detective duo.

"I didn't realize I was missing important data!" Sherlock defended himself.

"Compatibilities met, Ancient One," John said.

"Excellent," she said.

"When your memories, or our memories start returning," the ghost said, "don't force events to follow exactly as they did before. You are your own person, and it may be that if you do as you would naturally, the outcome may even be better than before."

"Right," Stephen said, breathing out. "Any other bits of advice?"

"Read before and after spells," he answered. "Those old tomes have a nasty habit of putting the warnings after instead of before like other manuals. And if you are able to remember in time . . . keep your hands away from the wheel during a crash." His hands clenched, his entire form trembling from remembered shock. "Just trust me on this."

Stephen nodded. "If your Yahweh be willing, I'll remember. Now, what do I do?"

"Just relax," the Ancient One answered, gracefully drawing arching lines through the air with two fingers, John mirroring her movements. "The procedure started as soon as the match was confirmed."

The ghostly man extended his hand.

Stephen stepped forward, ending up between the two wizards before he could catch his elder double's hand.

"The merge will be largely physical and mental," he explained as magic runes sparked around them. "I can already hear my Brother calling me Home. I just couldn't leave my world defenseless against Dormammu."

"Who?"

"You'll learn when the time is right. Now, relax."

Stephen momentarily looked back. He was relieved to see the solidarity returned between Sherlock and John. He wondered at the mentor-student bond John shared with the Ancient One, and couldn't help but wonder how events in this world may play out. Then he was flying after his older double. He felt his clothes slowly morph into hospital garments. Memories of his Other and his world faded as medical facts and theories took their place. His body started to ache as his head throbbed.

He then floated over a body that was just about to lose its fight to death.

"Clear!"

Stephen gasped as a charge shot through him, dragging him into the battered body. He couldn't breathe. He. Couldn't. Breathe! He could hear the whining charge as an older version of him turned to meet a Jewish Man, waiting with open arms.

"Clear!"

Stephen slammed back into his body. He rasped as his lungs expanded, drawing in sweet, sweet breath. He heaved in air as he looked about through blurred eyes. His colleagues leaned over him in concern. "Nick. Christine." But little more than rasps entered the oxygen mask strapped to his face.

"Sh, don't try to talk just yet," Christine said, relief filtering through. "Everything's going to be okay. Just hang in there."

"Don't fall asleep yet," Nick said. "Play it safe, yeah?"

Stephen gave the barest nod as his friends continued to work and save his life. All while the oddest dream he'd ever had faded into the recesses of his mind.

Author's Note: So, Stephen has just now started his journey. There will be further references to Kingdom Hearts characters and Sherlock characters, but not enough for a true crossover. Thus why this story is firmly placed in the Doctor Strange category.

I'll admit to wanting to write a Doctor Strange story in connection to Sherlock for awhile, but currently none of those ideas are anything more than quick scribbles. But, I did have this Sherlock/Kingdom Hearts crossover universe. Much like Baskerville, I realized that if I was going to have Stephen somehow get to another world or otherwise become Doctor Strange, I needed to know exactly what happened before diving into the "true" sequel of the series.

So, here we are. I decided to have some fun with another London/Marvel world having a Nobody John Watson. Possibly also because while I have yet to see Black Panther aside from clips, I have noticed Everett Ross and John Watson share the same actor.

Hm. Where did Sherlock get his information on Nobodies? I'm not quite sure. He didn't tell me. In some distant future, I may explore more of this world, but no current plans.

Hopefully you enjoyed this first installment. Let me know if you have any questions, any thoughts. Any theories at this early date? Anything. I'll be happy to hear from you.