Chapter Twenty-six: Returning a Call

Stephen breathed in the familiar air of Kathmandu, Nepal. So many months, months that felt like years since that sleepless night. Things were finally starting to settle. The Hong Kong Sanctum operated as though it had never been disturbed. Master Drumm, fully recovered, temporarily watched over the London Sanctum until a new guardian could be found. Stephen acted as guardian of the New York Sanctum at least until Master Drumm could return.

He still debated where he would go after that. Would he return to Kamar-Taj for more training? Would he stay in New York where he could seriously start planning for his new life with Christine? Would he quit being a neurosurgeon or continue to do so simply to keep bills paid? Return to his penthouse? Or accept full-time guardianship of the New York Sanctum and make it his new home?

Many of these questions he knew he needed to discuss with Christine, Mordo, and Wong. But . . . he was forcing himself to take things a step at a time. Right now, he needed to move his items from his room in Kamar-Taj to New York. He also needed to return the Eye of Agamotto.

He quietly packed his duffel bag, making sure he grabbed his laptop and his old backpack. He packed his burgundy robes and spare blue robes. Made sure that he had everything gifted to him the previous Christmas. The items Roisin had left to him. Certain that he had everything, either in the duffel or in a wooden crate, he returned to the library and the rotunda.

At the entry of the room, Stephen set down his burdens. He heaved a breath as he approached the pedestal. Sorcerer masons had done an excellent job of restoring the room. No one would have believed that it had been in such disrepair a few months ago.

He paused at the pedestal, his hands hovering over the amulet. It may have been the endless time loop, the traumatic events of that day, or something else entirely, but he didn't want to part with it. No, it wasn't doing him any good now since he was forbidden to use it. He certainly wasn't able to use it when Roisin—

"Put it back, Stephen," Cloak said, leaving his shoulders, and removing the final physical excuse he had.

"Okay," Stephen said. He pulled the Eye of Agamotto off over his head. He looked at the closed amulet, a half-smile touching his lips. "Thank you," he whispered. When it had mattered most, Hong Kong, Dormammu, the relic had come through.

He carefully set it in place. The Eye partially opened for a second before settling back into slumber.

"A wise choice," Wong said as Stephen finished wrapping the cord back around the stem. "You'll wear the Eye of Agamotto, once you've mastered its powers."

"Not to say that you haven't already done impressive feats with it," Mordo added, coming up to clap his shoulder. "But it was an extremely risky business."

"Until you've mastered it," Wong continued, "best not to walk the streets wearing an Infinity Stone."

"What?" Stephen and Mordo asked at once.

"What are Infinity Stones?" Stephen asked.

"I was never aware that Earth hid one of the Infinity Stones," Mordo said.

Wong eyed the both of them. "Stephen, you have a gift for the mystic arts, but you still have much to learn. Mordo, there are some secrets that only the highest ranking sorcerers may know of. Including locations of the Infinity Stones." He turned his wary gaze to the globe above them. "Word of the Ancient One's death is already spreading through the multiverse. Earth has no Sorcerer Supreme to defend it. We must be ready."

"We'll be ready," Stephen said confidently.

A look passed between all three of them. A promise of solidarity and brotherhood. A promise that whatever came their way, they would face it head on, just as they had faced Kaecilius. They would rely on each other and their unique strengths to protect the world.

Wong's smile momentarily turned amused. "I do suspect however that there are some events that I experienced that someone will make sure never happens to us in this timeline."

"What and who?" Mordo asked.

"Tragedy spread throughout our universe," Wong answered. "A young woman who is a sorcerer in her own right. Though she will never appreciate a tragic ending unless there was no choice."

"Hey!" a voice cried out from above.

Wong chuckled, even as the voice scolded.

"Stop breaking the fourth wall, Wong."

"Being well-versed in the multiverse gives me special privileges," he answered.

"Ugh! Don't make me delete this."

"I'll stop," Wong said.

Stephen chuckled. Something about that voice was vaguely familiar, but it was a comfortable familiarity. "Not everyone knows about her, do they?"

"Of those in this timeline she's created, we're the only ones," Wong said. "Guard this secret."

Stephen and Mordo nodded, solemness returning.

Wong turned a ring in the pedestal so that the door to the New York Sanctum opened behind them.

Stephen retrieved his things as Cloak settled around his shoulders again. He smiled as it hugged his shoulders a moment, appreciating the silent assurance it would always be there.

Mordo claimed the wooden crate as they followed Wong through the portal. "Any plans yet?" he asked as they mounted the wide stairs.

"I have several options," Stephen said. "I'm needing to talk with the two of you and Christine before I settle on a solid plan of action."

"What sort of things?" Wong called back.

"Long term sorts of things, namely where I'll be living, especially after I marry Christine," Stephen answered. "And that's not considering what training or duties I'll have to keep track of."

In an alcove off the relic room, they set Stephen's things.

"Have you checked your old cellphone?" Mordo asked, pulling the device out from the backpack's front pocket.

"I keep on forgetting," Stephen answered. "It died shortly after Christmas, and while I plugged it in last night, I haven't really thought much about it."

"It's saying that you have a text," Mordo said, showing him the screen. "Several in fact, all from a John."

Stephen fairly snatched the cell from Mordo's hand. He instinctively unlocked it, popping into his messages. A couple concerned texts from Sherlock, one from Mycroft, but yes, most were from John. The last being, "When you get this, call me." It had arrived the day his backpack had been returned to him. He groaned. "Oh, they are going to kill me for making them worry this long."

"Well, don't make them wait any longer," Wong said.

Stephen hurriedly placed the call, praying that it would still connect beyond worlds, and bracing himself for the avalanche sure to come.

The call picked up, John's weary voice asking, "Hello."

Stephen grinned sheepishly. "Finally saw your text."

"Stephen!" John shouted, prompting Stephen to hold the phone back from his ear.

He chuckled as he half-heard the mad scramble.

"Well, let us meet your first family," Mordo said.

Stephen put it on speaker just as John demanded, "Where on earth have you been? It's been months."

"Sorry," Stephen apologized. "You can say that I've had one of the more interesting experiences that a Nobody can claim."

"Understatement," Wong declared, causing Mordo to start chuckling.

"Yes, thank you, Wong," Stephen said, rolling his eyes. "Frankly, it's a long, complicated story that should be told face to face if not in person."

"At least give us something," Molly said.

"Yes," Sherlock declared, "you are not allowed to give us something so vague without at least giving us some details."

Stephen chuckled, more from relief than anything. "Alright. I'll start with . . ." Where should he start? Did he even know where the start was anymore? Well, maybe stall them from sending out a search party. "I'm on a different world."

"What?" Molly cried. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Why change worlds at all?" Sherlock demanded.

"I didn't want you all to worry about me," Stephen answered. "I had to change worlds because your world can't support the magic I use. It would have worn down on both of us, putting the world at risk again. I couldn't do that. I had to find another world, preferably one similar to our own but able to sustain my sort of magic. I actually managed to find two such worlds.

"I had full intentions of contacting you shortly after I arrived on the first," he said quickly. "But I wasn't even there a full twenty-four hours before I found myself sent on a mission on the second with my memories temporarily locked."

"Okay, that will take awhile to unpack," John noted.

"And I'm not going to tell you who I met on that world before I was sent to this one," Stephen said. If John thought that what Stephen had just shared would take some unpacking, now wasn't the time to reveal that version of John and Sherlock. "But I will definitely say that-" say what exactly? This was like traversing a minefield. Carefully choosing what was least likely to create a mudslide of information on his part. "I have a far more established place on this world than I would have dreamed of getting."

"How'd you manage that?" Molly asked. So simple, but also so complicated.

"I can't give you all the details," Stephen answered, "but the mission I got required that I take on another man's life in order to save the world, because he was too world weary to do it all over again." He barely noticed Wong and Mordo stepping back, giving him some distance as he outlined the past few years of his existence. "That sent me back, oh, about four or five years into the past. But, thanks to that, I got that medical degree I was hoping for. I became an accomplished neurosurgeon."

"Congratulations," John said, a proud smile in his voice.

"Thank you," Stephen said, smiling back. "I also managed to catch a beautiful girlfriend within the past three years." Don't shock them with the engagement just yet. "Apparently, it is within the DNA to find lady doctors super attractive, and I will never argue about this with my brother, Molly," he added, "but for me, Christine Palmer is the most beautiful woman in all the worlds."

He rolled his eyes as Mordo pulled off an overly sappy expression.

"That just ensures you stay away from my Molly," Sherlock replied.

"Your Molly?" she asked.

Stephen stifled his mirth. Oh, he was certain that Christine and Molly would get along splendidly.

"In the sense that we're each other's," Sherlock said, smoothly saving himself.

"What about your magic training?" John asked before the tangent could continue.

Before Stephen could answer, Wong declared, "Unofficially Sorcerer Supreme."

"Not true," Stephen corrected. "I don't even have a year of training under my belt. I'm sure I need at least a decade."

"Thus why it is unofficial," Wong said. "Be thankful you didn't inherit the title of Ancient One."

"Well, that I would at least need a full head of pure white hair," Stephen said.

Apparently something about that caused Mordo to double over in silent mirth.

Stephen huffed a chuckle before adding. "That or at least a couple centuries behind me."

"Combined ages may indicate at least a century and a half," Wong offered.

Too close. Too close both to things he wasn't ready to talk about and to the more complicated story he didn't want to share just over phone. "That's it," he said. "You're not in the conversation anymore." Cloak.

"Going up," Cloak replied. A moment later, they hovered a good distance above Wong and Mordo, far enough that any protests didn't reach the phone.

"Sorry, about that," he said, settling cross-legged in the air. "Too much of what I don't want to share just yet."

"So," Sherlock said, slowly deducing, "you started your magic training within the last year. Something happened to the original Sorcerer Supreme, possibly also known as the Ancient One, which caused you as their latest prodigy to unofficially be granted the title."

Stephen swallowed against the lump in his throat. How could it be laid out so simply? So clinically? "There's the barebones version of it," he acknowledged.

"They were a dear mentor," John said. Stephen smiled. Of course, John would pick up the emotional connection, if not guess it fully.

"Yeah, she was," Stephen said. A shaky breath to hold the tears back. "At least I have the hope of seeing her again."

"What do you mean?" John asked.

"I introduced her to Jesus, just before she died," Stephen answered. He braced himself before further revealing, "And I accepted Jesus as my own Savior just shortly before I did that. I just had a couple brushes with death that came a little too close to my liking."

"Understatement of your lifetime!" Wong shouted up to him.

"Sherlock," Stephen said, "I know your view on God. I don't care if it causes you to think less of me for—"
"Why would I think less of you?" Sherlock interrupted. "You have formed fully into your own person and made a highly intelligent decision with your superior mind. Why would I fault you that?"

Stephen's jaw fell. If he had been in charge of staying aloft, he would be falling. When—what—?

"Wait," John spoke up, just as shocked, "did I miss something? I am beyond happy for you, Stephen. But Sherlock—"

Stephen finally found his voice. "I thought you would be insulted. You're a staunch atheist. I was sure that you would at least make some snide comment about Nobodies being imperfect copies."

"I'm a bit surprised too," Molly said. "What's going on in that big brain of yours?"

Sherlock cleared his throat in the quiet. "The sugar may not have been the only thing I was mistaken about."

Stephen blinked. "Sugar?" What did that have to do with anything?

"Long story, case related," John said before apparently turning to Sherlock. "What did you get wrong?"

"That night in the Hollow," Sherlock said. "There was more to it than what I allowed."

"What do you mean?" Molly asked as Stephen tried to collect the clues.

"When I confessed to seeing the hound, I lied," Sherlock said traces of leftover fear entering his voice. But that couldn't be right. Sherlock always considered himself above any emotion. "I did not see Henry's hound." The tremulous fear was clear in his next words. "I saw a Hell Hound, one of the Devil's own."

Stephen drew in a sharp breath.

"You're serious," John said, voicing Stephen's exact thoughts.

"I had to deny it, John," Sherlock said, just barely pleading for understanding. "I had to deny it. Anyone who could control such a beast couldn't exist without proper balance or else this world would already be a hellhole of fire and brimstone, unspeakable terrors. I couldn't allow that monster to be real."

"What changed so that you're not denying it anymore?" John asked, patient and gentle as always.

"There is a god who cared enough to spare your life," Sherlock answered, the barest hint of tears in his voice. "I then had to recognize that in order to hold back the Darkness of the Demon Hound's Master, it had to be the God that you served, the God of the Israelites." His voice changed to the more usual stubbornness. "Don't think that I have joined your ranks. I have merely changed from an atheist to a theist. Nothing more."

"I'll accept that," John said, a smile touching his voice.

Stephen grinned. "That's a pretty big step for you. That's awesome."

"I'm so happy," Molly declared.

Stephen smiled as he pulled together the few clues he had. "So," he slightly drew out. "A case involving a hound, a hollow, and sugar."

"Well," John began, "it started a couple mornings ago when Sherlock was acting like a hyperactive child because he didn't have a case."

"It did not start like that," Sherlock protested.

Stephen barely held his guffaw in. He wondered if the wall had any new bullet holes in it.

"I was never happier to hear that single ring," John continued as though Sherlock hadn't spoken.

"Maximum pressure under the half second?" Stephen asked gleefully.

"Precisely," John confirmed.

"Oh, don't get all poetic, John," Sherlock complained. "He needs the facts."

"But the facts need context," John said, proving that the debate over his writing style still continued.

Stephen happily listened to them for the next two hours as John, Sherlock, and Molly recounted the case concerning the Hound of Baskerville. He was beyond relieved that his family had managed to survive the frights and dangers on the wild moors. Shortly before their train pulled into Paddington Station, Stephen introduced his two families. Then with promises to attempt a video call in the near future, they hung up.

Author's Note: I cheated a little in copying the conversation from Baskerville to here. But here is where the two stories converge. Their timelines will officially be in sync from now on. The only reason they weren't before . . . is because I have no real clue as to how it would work and still have everything work out for Stephen being fully recovered by the time Baskerville was complete.

Just a couple more chapters. 😊