As the two girls failed to respond to the smelling salts, Holmes was forced to carry them in. After dropping Sarvy unceremoniously onto a couch, he found that Avis had already crept into the room and was sitting on the sitting room table.

"Sup!" she cried, at which point Sarvy sat up abruptly and asked as to the location of Amir Blumenfeld.

"No, my dearling, remember, there is no Internet. But we DO have Holmes," trilled Avis.

Sarvy looked reproachfully at Avis. "Why the FUCK did you leave our bags outside? They could be stolen by marauding marauders! Plus, MYYYYPOD!" Upon declaring this final word, Sarvy plopped swiftly back onto the couch and fell back to look at the ceiling.

"Lulz. That was some random shit. I love how we can curse in 19th century England without people gasping. I mean, FUCKING 19th CENTURY ENGLAND. Because most things haven't been invented yet." She cast her gaze upon Holmes, who was being suspiciously quiet, exclaiming, "Oh hi! Sorry for spazzing out on you earlier, we just….um…are fans?"

"Yeah, that works." Sarvy was still looking at the ceiling, making strange faces for no apparent reason. "Hey, Avis, should we tell the goodly detective where we hail from, or should we just let him flounder?"0

"I would tell him, but…."

"I know, right?"

"If it was literally anyone else…."

"But, we really should-"

"That's actually kind of mean-"

"Who cares? He's Holmes-"

"Well, his name is synonymous with 'Smart One'-"

"Plus, it'll be FUNNY"

"Yeah, that it will."

"So…?"

"Ah, go ahead. Starchild1234 'im"

Sarvy grinned. Holmes gulped. The air was still and silent as Sarvy opened her mouth slowly and blinked creepily. A few birds fainted from fright. Holmes considered running away, screaming for his mommy. It was actually really terrifying.

"Soooooooo…." She widened her smile. "Do you, Sherlock Holmes, the reputably greatest detective of all the times, in all the lands plus Canada, who was once-"

"OH MY GOD, SARV, JUST ASK ALREADY! I'm getting BORED!"

"Fine! Gosh!" She pouted, and then stopped because Avis was poking her with a very long stick. It might have belonged to a window. "Can you guess where we are from?"

"Eh, could've done without the signing. If not, could've done without the Blue's Clues," Avis commented, while twirling the stick like a baton.

Sherlock, who before was busying himself with the very same question Sarvy had just asked him, was hoping that they would forget about asking him the one question of which he had almost no possibility of answering correctly. But alas, Lady Misfortune was hiding in his house that day, rummaging through his stuff and messing up his hair.

"You are from America," he said confidently, as that was the only thing about them he was sure of.

"Yeeeeees, goooood, any shmuck could have guessed that from the accents, but gooood." Avis lingered sarcastically on almost every word, causing Sarvy to whack her with her own stick, and howl for her not to be mean to the poor detective, and that he'd probably had a long day or something, and that that was the reason his brain was all pumbly. This brought about many inquiries and postulations as to the definition of 'pumbly'. At which time Sarvy replied that she made the f'awesome word up.

"Straight up." She swiveled her head to look at Holmes. "But you were saying?"

This exchange prompted Holmes to take a chance, and venture to use the HIGHLY IMPROBABLE explanation.

"You are from the future."

"No, shit, Sherlock." The girls dissolved into giggles.

"But seriously," Avis said in a reasonable-sounding voice. "Yeah, we are from 2010, where the whole world had a cat fetish, and your genius is obsolete because we have DNA tracking."

"She's kidding." Sarvy said. "Wait, do people even know what kidding means here?"

"LOL. IDK. I fail at etymology."

"I lied, Holmes, m'dar. We, from the future, do not have DNA tracking. But we DO have Google!"

"Well, WE don't"

"Oh, right. That's sad."

Avis was about to pout, when she suddenly, she remembered the bags. "The bags!" she cried, and ran out to fetch them. " Hey, Mr. I-Can-Bend-A Poker-"

"Like a BOSS!"

"Lulz. True. But anyway, Sarvy, my old chum, will you endeavor to assist me in the carrying in of our f'awesome bags?" The last sentence she said in a British accent.

"Yeah, if you stop muarderin' the Queen 's English"

She got up off the couch ("Whoa, head rush!") and hopped over to the door, grabbed the bags off the porch, and was promptly locked out of the house by Holmes.

"WTF?"

"If you girls will not be requiring my assistance, I will have to ask you to leave the premises, and bid you a good day."

"But-but we're fans!" Avis cried out. "This NEVER happens!"

"Good day, ladies."

"Oh, come ON!" Sarvy wailed. "We don't have any money or anything!"

Holmes left the door, and replied no more.

Sarvy began to pace, as Avis began to freak out. At long last, after much wringing of the hands and shrieking, the girls decided to do nothing, and sit on the porch until Watson came along. Luckily for them, the doctor arrived at 221 B in a matter of minutes.

"Hi, John!"

Watson was not entirely shocked to hear that they had been locked out by Holmes, but was he really wondered at was their strange attire. When he asked them about that, they nonchalantly replied that they were from the future, and asked him if he was going to let us in. At hearing this, Watson immediately changed his tone.

"Yes, I'll let you in," he said, to the girls, "But first, we're just going to go stop off at a lovely place, with lots of lovely people."

"We're not crazy! Like that."

"He thinks we're crazy! …Like that."

"How can you not believe us?"

"Yeah, look at all this f'awesome future shit we have!"

The girls each opened one of the bags both large and rectangular, and looked through it.

"Whoa, a flame thrower!"

"Not the best demonstration, Sarvy."

"There's all sorts of dangerous shit here, Ave."

"Not helping," the girl with the green eyes, Ave, muttered.

The first girl, Sarvy, threw her bag aside, and picked up a smaller one, this one a bright blue. "Eye-pad?" she asked her compatriot.

"Yeah sure, that'll work."She sighed. "Ipad without Internet. Tragic, innit?"

"Yeah."

Ave waved a large, rectangular piece of metal in front of Watson's face.

"Now do you believe us?"

Watson surveyed the rectangle. "Yes, it is very futuristic. Come, I'll take you to some other people from the future, on Presence Street."

"Oh, as if. We're crazy, Watson, not stupid." Ave scoffed. "Sarvy just jumped the gun on the 'believe us' line."

"Sorry 'bout that. I'll just turn it on now." She touched the base of the metal, and it lit up BRILLIANTLY in a picture of a skyscraper.

"Sarvy, if ya please,"

"Now do you believe us?"

Watson's eyes were as wide as dinner plates as he ushered them inside the house.