Prompt: Crossover with another Holmes of your choice, from Book girl fan
A/N: I had actually done a crossover between multiple different Holmes adaptations in my very first year of the Challenge, and so I decided to do something a little different here (that, and it's been so long since I've written BBC Sherlock that I don't even know if I can write them accurately anymore). This response won't make any sense if you've never watched Star Trek: The Next Generation (sorry about that!), but Data and Geordi playacting Sherlock Holmes on the holodeck was actually my first introduction to Holmes and was why I started reading the Holmes stories in the first place. Consider this a tribute to my very first Holmes and Watson.
If you are familiar with TNG I can only apologize if Data and Geordi are OOC. In the Star Trek fandom I write for the Original Series and have never written any of the TNG crew until today.
My friend Sherlock Holmes is the most rational of men, refusing to believe in anything he could not prove with either his senses or through experimentation. While he was perfectly willing, as a man of science, to accept new discoveries and inventions, he had little patience for those things which remained unexplainable by modern science. While I remained hopeful, perhaps, that there were indeed "more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy" I also bowed to physical evidence, and so discounted such things as ghosts and witches. Such things belonged to less enlightened times, and were suitable only for stories.
Yet in my records of my adventures with Holmes, I find that in one instance our modern science failed me, and I have no explanation, beyond the one provided by those involved, which surely could not be the truth. Yet I have no other.
It was a day like any other in 1897. Holmes was stretched out on the settee reading the agony column, while I was responding to a letter from an old army friend, who had written to me longer ago than I wished to admit. We expected no cases, for Holmes had recently finished a long affair to do with stolen diamonds and said he would take nothing but the most interesting problem, as he was intending to begin a study on the differences between chanting styles in the medieval Roman and Celtic churches.
Imagine my surprise, then, when our door swung open. "An excellent case, Watson!" one of the intruders declared grandly.
"Indeed, Holmes," the second responded, and my friend and I stared at each other in some shock. Never had two more unusual individuals stood in our sitting room, which had played host to some unique characters in my years at Baker Street. Yet these two were, without a doubt, the strangest.
The first, the taller of the two, was dressed, strangely enough, in the ridiculous outfit my illustrator insisted on drawing Holmes wearing, complete with the deerstalker hat he had never worn. Yet it was his appearance which was truly strange, for I have never seen anyone with such pale white skin, the exact color of chalk. His hair was a brown that would not have been out of place anywhere in London, but on closer inspection, his eyes were a pale yellow, a color I had never seen in anyone's eyes. Even more than these odd physical characteristics, what was truly unsettling was his expression, for he had none. Never have I seen such a flat, neutral expression, or such an emotionless tone in someone's speech. Holmes was often said to be more a machine than a man, but this fellow made Holmes appear to be as emotional as a schoolgirl.
The second figure was no less strange, though his clothing was less conspicuous, more like what any ordinary Londoner would wear than his companion's. His dark skin indicated he was of African descent, though his voice, when he spoke, showed him to be American by birth. His affect was entirely more natural than his companion's, save for the strangest of all: he wore a strange, metal band over his eyes, so that I was sure he would not be able to see. I have never seen such a contraption, nor could I guess its purpose.
Holmes, for one of the only times in my memory, had been shocked into speechlessness and was simply staring at our uninvited guests, who both stared back, apparently equally surprised to find us here.
"Uh, Holmes, old fellow," the second man said, nudging his pale companion. "Are these two supposed to be here?"
"I do not know. Perhaps they are clients wishing our assistance, Watson," the first said again.
"Excuse me," I said. "But I am Dr. Watson."
"Yes, and I am Sherlock Holmes," Holmes said, standing up. "Pray tell, what are you doing in our rooms?"
"Uh, Data? Did the programming change and leave Holmes and Watson in here?"
"That should be impossible, Geordi. I programmed it myself so that we take the places of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson," the first fellow said. Despite the strangeness of the situation, he still betrayed no emotion whatsoever.
"Well, maybe something's wrong with the holodeck. Wouldn't be the first time," the second fellow - Geordi? - said.
I turned in my confusion to Holmes and asked quietly, "What do you make of this?"
"I do not know," he answered, and this response was so very unusual I forgot the two strangers in our sitting room. Holmes never failed to deduce something, however small, from our visitors. His keen eyes never left the two imposters, and yet I could tell he was gleaning nothing from his observations. "It is as if they have no history that I can tell. They have no mud or dust on their shoes, are carrying nothing, their clothes have no wear to speak of…it is a puzzle, Watson."
"Well, we're going to have to figure out what went wrong. Computer, end program," Geordi said. He and his friend waited for a moment, then looked around in apparent confusion when whatever they were expecting did not happen. Despite the metal band over his eyes, I could tell he was now nervous, though his friend - Data? - still displayed no emotion.
They both then turned to look at us. "Geordi," said Data. "Perhaps it is not the holodeck. Perhaps we have encountered some phenomenon that has caused us to travel back in time to the year 1897."
"So that's-that's really Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson?"
"It would appear so," Data said.
"Excuse me, what do you mean we are 'really Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson?'" Holmes asked. "Of course that is who we are."
"The real question is, who are you?" I asked.
"Well, we're…visitors," Geordi said.
"You come from no place I can identify," Holmes said. "Though I cannot say that what you claim is untrue."
Data (I wondered how he had come by such a very odd name) cocked his head to one side, in a strangely stilted motion that put me in mind of automatons I had seen at fairs. "If you are Sherlock Holmes, you will not believe anything we tell you. You will know it is not true."
"Data, we can't tell him the truth…"
"I have already guessed the truth, or something like it," Holmes said. "You come from nowhere on Earth I have knowledge of, and appear to have arrived at our door without walking so much as a step outside. No race on Earth has skin so pale white, eyes that color, nor has so unemotional a demeanor. The device you wear on your eyes, the purpose of which is to aid your vision, is it not? It is also nothing I have seen before, and the workmanship is clearly beyond our capability. You see, Watson, the lights blinking? Such a thing is not possible, nor is surgically attaching it to your temples. I cannot deduce where you come from, only that it is not here."
"Holmes, you cannot mean to say that they are aliens!" I said in some shock that my entirely rational friend would come up with something so preposterous.
"When you have eliminated the impossible, Watson. What little I can deduce leads me to this inescapable conclusion."
"Your observations are correct," Data said, glancing at Geordi before continuing. "We are not from your time. We are from what, in your years, would be the 24th century."
"The 24th - why, that is ridiculous!" I said.
"Is it?" Holmes asked.
"We're not aliens, though," Geordi said. "At least, I'm not. I'm from Earth."
"From America, I would guess," Holmes said.
"Well, from what used to be the United States," Geordi admitted. "You see, we don't have countries anymore. The world is…united as one. War, poverty, illness, we've done away with all that. This-" he tapped the metal band on his eyes, "-you were right. I was born blind, and this allows me to see."
What he said seemed an impossible dream, though I allowed myself to imagine for a moment what a world devoid of all the hardships we currently suffered would be like. "Truly?" I asked. That the blind could be helped to see in their world, that poverty did not exist, that wars were never fought…it seemed like a miracle.
Geordi nodded. "My name is Lt. Commander Geordi La Forge. I'm an engineer on a starship. Oh, that's-"
"A ship that travels the stars. Simple," Holmes said.
"A ship that travels in space?" I asked. I had only read of such things in the likes of Verne and Wells. I never imagined it would be a reality.
"Yes," Data said. "We are part of a federation with hundreds of different species all over the galaxy. We explore the galaxy for the benefit of of all races."
"Different planets, with different…species?" I repeated faintly. "Holmes?"
"I imagine that is where you come from," he said, addressing our visitor.
Data shook his head slightly. "I am an android. My name is Lt. Commander Data. I was created by Dr. Noonien Soong. You would call me a machine."
"Artificial life," Holmes mused. "That is fascinating."
"That is why you reminded me of an automaton!" I said in amazement. "Are there many of you?"
"No. I am unique," Data said. "I am endeavoring to learn about humanity, and I have chosen you, Mr. Holmes, as my model, among others."
"May I ask why?" Holmes asked.
Data cocked his head to one side, thinking. "I find you…relatable. As an android, I have no emotions and process information to reach conclusions. It is very similar to your observation and deductions."
"We were in the holodeck; that's sort of a room where you can act out anything you want, when we ended up here," Geordi said.
"So you go to this…holodeck and pretend to be us?" I asked incredulously. What a strange idea, that far in the future people, some not even human, would act out our lives. Then the full implications of this dawned on me. "People will still know of Holmes and myself five hundred years in the future?" I asked.
"Oh, yeah," Geordi said. "You never stop being popular. Not just the holodeck, people are still reading your stories, Doctor, and back in the days of movies, there were hundreds of Sherlock Holmes movies."
I slowly sank down onto the armchair, hardly able to believe what I was hearing. "My stories survive that long?" I heard myself say faintly.
"Indeed, Doctor," Data said. "Sherlock Holmes is the most famous fictional detective in the Federation."
Holmes and I simply stared at them both. There is little more gratifying to an author than to hear that his work is enjoyed, but to know it would survive the ages is a gift few authors receive. To know about is unheard of. "Thank you," I said, with as much sincerity as I could.
Data nodded, then turned to his companion. "Come, Geordi. I have a theory as to how we ended up here, and if I am correct, then the Enterprise is also in this time, in orbit."
"Alright, well, I hope you're right," Geordi said. "Mr. Holmes, Doctor, it was really nice to meet you."
"Yes, it was most illuminating," Data said.
"Very nice to meet you as well," I said, dazed. Holmes nodded to them as he closed the door behind them, then turned to me.
"Well, Watson, I must say it is gratifying to hear I am considered a model for human behavior, so much so that artificial life forms seek to emulate me. I would have liked to talk with him for longer; undoubtedly that is the peak of human achievement. Complete rationality, Watson! Imagine it."
"I do not have to, Holmes," I said. "Do you believe them, then?"
"I have no reason not to," Holmes answered. "Of course it is possible that technology improves to the point that travel through space becomes possible, and it is mere hubris to assume that ours is the only planet that has developed intelligent life. No, I believe they are telling the truth, Watson."
I pondered this, then said, "I would like very much to see their world."
"I am perfectly content to know it will come," Holmes said. "There would be no place for me in their world. A world which has solved all its problems is one without crime, and then what would I do? Pass me the agony column, Watson. I find myself in need of a case."