Moriarty was the one criminal no one wanted to mess with, not even Sherlock Holmes. He was the Napoleon of crime, the center of all criminal activity in London. If Moriarty had control of time travel, he might just be the first to take over the world. He would probably venture into the future first, and bring back what was to me modern, everyday technology, but to nineteenth century Londoners would mean world domination. Then again, if he succeeded, he would have already made it into the history books of my generation. Considering most people don't even know who Moriarty is, he obviously hadn't succeeded in anything close to world domination.
This idea reminded me that, in the twenty-first century, no one believed Sherlock Holmes ever existed. So unless a major time paradox were to occur, Moriarty wouldn't be succeeding in anything to mark a place in history whatsoever.
Through this entire train of thought I must have been gazing off into space for I now noticed Holmes gazing at me with an expression of curiosity on his face. I immediately snapped out of it, blushing slightly.
'You're not the only one,' Holmes' eyes seemed to say as they met mine in an awkward three second span. I returned the look with the message, 'I figured as much from you, Holmes', mainly sarcastically, but with an edge of truth. He smiled knowingly and we both snickered quietly.
"I have no doubt that you were thinking the same thing I was," I said aloud, breaking up the muffled laughter. Holmes nodded thoughtfully.
"You know of professor Moriarty, I assume?" He asked. I nodded briefly, fighting the urge to let my thoughts drift again, and tried to remain focused on the subject.
"If he knew about this…" I couldn't help but trail off. I didn't even want to think of what Moriarty's first step would be if he knew about time travel. A sudden thought sent a shiver down my spine. I was the only one who knew how to time travel, and therefore, if Moriarty somehow discovered my secret, I would be the one he came after.
The sound of a grandfather clock made me jump. I glanced up at the face of the clock. It was nine-o-clock, and judging by the darkness outside it was in the evening, not morning. Not that it mattered. It would be the same time in my own time-period when I returned anyway. But the sight of it reminded me that I had woken up on the couch. I suddenly wondered if I had just ended up there, or if Holmes had moved me from my original position.
"Where was I when you found me?" I asked suddenly, startling Holmes slightly.
"You nearly drown in the river. Why do you ask?" He seemed surprised that I didn't remember it.
"I only remember waking up on the couch. I can't remember anything else before that. How did I end up in the river?" For a moment I thought it might have been where I 'landed' when I first arrived in the nineteenth century.
Holmes' next words worried me even more. "You fell from a window, five stories high."
The memory rushed back suddenly, robbing me of my senses for a moment. "I didn't fall; I was pushed, by a man." The shock from the memory left me barely able to answer Holmes' next question.
"What did he look like?" I frankly didn't know how to respond to that. I hadn't seen much of him before I was falling from around fifty feet in the air.
"He was wearing black gloves and a black cloak. His push wasn't weak, but it wasn't what I expected for his height. That's all I can describe. I didn't see anything else." There was only one person who fit the minute description so far. Holmes seemed to agree with his eyes. And of course, it had to be Professor James Moriarty. The one and only Professor Moriarty.