I was really tempted to post a bogus announcement about not being able to continue this story for the foreseeable future due to an important matter I must deal with, but I have too much respect for your intelligence to play dumb jokes. Besides, I already played a dumb joke last year...and some of you liked it more than my usual stuff...hmm...

After Julia stormed out in a dour mood, Murdoch was left to his own devices. Now that there was no one left to disturb - at least he didn't think anyone else lived here; the place was so large it was hard to say for sure - he could have easily wiled the day away examining everything here without worry. But he didn't much feel like doing that. He wanted to get out and explore the Toronto of 2013 and see if there was still any part of his own beloved time present. And above all, try to figure out a way to get back to this time before his Julia completed her nuptials.

Worseley greeted him in the elevator and made pleasant, though meaningless conversation with him all the way down to the lobby. The ground floor was much busier than it had been last night and he had to dodge past many a person to get to the main doors. Just the lobby itself seemed to be more crowded than any street he had ever walked upon in his life. Needless to say, outside was a rude awakening in comparison.

Not only was it extremely noisy and disorienting, (what with all the tall buildings pressing down on him) but it also smelled funny too. It seemed to be a combination of sewage, exotic foodstuffs and whatever was coming out of the ends of the horseless carriages. He stood there watching the carriages for some time, trying to figure out what propelled them. Electricity seemed to be out of the question. So was steam (they wouldn't smell so bad if the emissions were simply water vapour). Murdoch concluded they must be propelled by gasoline powered engines, something similar to what Dr. Birkins had hoped would revolutionize the world. Even back then Murdoch had been concerned about the consequences of the fumes. Here was the living proof in front of him that his fears were warranted. It didn't make him happy to know he had been right.

And had it really been worth it to doom the planet? What was so liberating about these machines? They could only inch from one lighted pole to another. He could almost walk faster than that!

Disgusted with mankind's eagerness to self destruct, he looked for a quiet place to calm down. Parks were familiar; parks were peaceful; parks were the closest thing to home in this metal and grey world. From what he could recall of the aerial landscape of the city, there was a park not too far from here.

While making his way there exceedingly slowly (because of the lighted poles), he became aware of the fact that he was being followed. Curious, he nevertheless decided to simply ignore them. Confrontation seemed like the last thing he was cut out for in this era. As long as they didn't bother him, he didn't really care.

However, by the time he made it to the park, (Queen's Park no less!) there were more of them and he was starting to get uneasy, especially since most of them seemed to be pointing cameras in his direction. Murdoch thought maybe he could lose them if he simply picked up the pace. The park was larger than he recalled in his time but it was still much the same design, with the exception of a large statue of a man* riding a horse in the centre.

In any case, having some knowledge of the setup didn't seem to be helping him evade his stalkers. They were a very determined bunch and managed to keep up with him at every turn. Many people were watching his progress, all of whom seemed to be confused by his conduct. Out of breath finally, he was forced to stop nearby a fountain and they descended on him like vultures.

Before they could devour him whole, there was a flurry of movement and a horse galloped up beside him!

"All right then," said a man's voice calmly, "you've had your fun. Go on, get out of here."

The group did as they were bade, though rather sullenly. Apparently they had been having great fun at his expense.

Murdoch gazed up at the man dressed in red. "Jasper?"

"William," he replied curtly, touching the brim of his hat. Then he gracefully descended to the ground, keeping one hand on the reigns and offering the other one to Murdoch. After the firm handshake was concluded, they began to leisurely stroll along the paved path.

"Why are you here?" Murdoch asked.

The edges of Jasper's lips twitched. "Peculiar way of thanking me for my services."

Murdoch smiled slightly, shaking his head. "Yes, thank you very much. I just meant, why are you in Toronto?"

Jasper looked at him oddly. "Why shouldn't I be?" Murdoch gave him a blank look. "I've lived here my whole life, William. So have you." Jasper observed him closely. "Are you feeling all right? You look a little pale."

"Yes, yes, I am fine."

"I doubt that," Jasper said with a piercing stare. "You came here without your bicycle. You must have known what would happen. And since it's inconceivable that your short time away could have had any impact on your beautiful mind...clearly there is trouble in paradise."

Murdoch didn't know what to say so he shrugged. Jasper put an arm to his chest, barring his movement.

"Did you have another fight with Julia?"

Murdoch nodded.

"It's obvious what your problem with her is. I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet." Murdoch looked at him, waiting for him to continue. Jasper sighed in an exasperated way. "William, she's waiting for you to propose." Murdoch gaped at that. "And why should that be so surprising, young man? You've been together for almost a year, half of that sharing the same quarters. You're practically married as it is."

There was a silence. "Does your hesitancy in this matter have anything to do with Sally Pendrick?"

"What does Mrs. Pendrick have to do with anything?" he enquired, bewildered.

Jasper gave him another concerned look. This time he placed a hand on his shoulder. "Have you been sleeping well lately?"

He was about to reply in the affirmative, when a noise chirped up from the vicinity of Jasper's shoulder. Jasper cocked his head to the side and spoke into a small black rectangle. A short conference ensued with an unseen person and then Jasper said, "Well, I must be off. There's some hooligans causing a ruckus nearby." Jasper jumped onto his horse. "Try and get some rest, William. If you're still feeling confused tomorrow, you know where to find me."

Murdoch watched the Mountie depart and vaguely wondered what he was supposed to do next. He didn't need to wait long before a strange rumbling sensation around his right thigh provided a new challenge. Digging his hand into his suit pocket, he pulled out a flashing rectangular device, that looked very similar to Julia's. Seeing so many people with them on his journey here gave him a pretty good idea of what they were.

He held it to his ear and very clearly said, "Hello?"

Nothing happened except a continued vibration in his ear and palm.

Then he remembered how Julia had tapped the front of it first before speaking. He did so now and repeated the question.

"Are you serious? Are you even serious? What the hell are you doing, Will?" came an irate voice. Murdoch was tempted to drop the phone and run but instead held it a little ways from his ear.

"Who may I ask is speaking?" he said pleasantly, if not a bit nervously.

"Ha ha, very funny!" barked the unamused voice. "Now answer the question!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I really don't know what you are talking about."

"In the park! With the paparazzi swine! What were you thinking?"

Paparazzi? Didn't Henry mention them yesterday?

"I suppose I was not."

"You're damn straight you weren't! Get your ass over here pronto!"

"Where is here, sir?"

"Would you stop that sir nonsense! Over here, in the limo! To your goddamn five o'clock!"

Murdoch turned to find a dark haired man waving from a rather long horseless carriage and he made his way over there, the feeling of trepidation increasing with every step.

Inside this vehicle, he found George sitting across from him, giving him a rather mean look. His short prickly hair seemed to match his attitude exactly. Then he tapped the partition behind him and said, "Take us to HQ."

"Yes, Mr. Crabtree," came the muffled response.

"You've got really bad timing, you know that?"

Murdoch looked at him cluelessly.

"The show tonight? That ringing any bells?"

"What show are you referring to, George?"

"What show he asks," muttered George, running a hand down his face. Then he leaned across and rapped him on the forehead a few times. "Hello? Anyone in there? You've got a date with Steve!"

"And who is Steve?"

George looked at him incredulously and started sniffing him! Murdoch was rather uncomfortable and fidgeted while this lasted.

George settled back into his seat, legs splayed, eyeing him suspiciously. "You're not high...on weed anyway." He picked up a tumbler and poured a clear liquid into it. He downed it. Murdoch wanted to chastise him for drinking so early but decided against it. "Listen, Will, if you've got a nasty habit I don't know about, now's the time to come clean."

Murdoch thought that was ironic coming from him.

"No, George, no nasty habits."

George sized him up for a few moments and then his expression relaxed. "Yeah, okay, I believe you. I would've figured it out a long time ago if you did. He smirked, tapping his head, "I got remarkable insight."

They sat in relative silence for a few minutes, with only the occasional blaring horn to jar his senses. He thought the limo smelled a bit odd, but in a different way than the city, and the abrupt stop and go motion was making him a little queasy. All in all though, it was comfortable enough.

"Hey wait a minute," said George, pointing a finger at him, looking like he'd seen a ghost, "isn't that the same suit you came back in?"

"Indeed it is, George," he responded.

"Well, why the hell are you wearing it again?"

"Why not?"

"Jesus!" he exclaimed incredulously, slapping himself in the forehead. Understandably, Murdoch wondered about such a strange reaction to such a seemingly innocent response. "You've got a reputation to uphold! You can't go wearing the same suit twice, and especially not the very next day! Thank your lucky stars they didn't get any pics of you yesterday! Unbelievable," he muttered as an after thought.

George went to pour himself another drink and Murdoch felt it necessary to speak up this time.

"It's not even nine o'clock, George."

"Are you my grandmother?" he retorted. Murdoch just stared. "No, so mind your own business!"

Conversing with this version of George seemed to be just as confusing as the one from 1898. Murdoch hoped he wouldn't be trapped in tight quarters with him for much longer. This mans brash manners were starting to give him a headache, as was the hectic movements of this entire era. If only he had a few quiet moments to himself, maybe he could figure out how to get home.

Some time later the limo pulled up to a gated entrance, through which was another large complex, though this one was much smaller than his residence, only thirty stories high instead of sixty-five.

The limo stopped and George immediately hopped out, full of youthful vigour. Murdoch took his time, doing his best to quell the now rather turbulent seizures in his stomach. Needless to say this slow manoeuvre procured a few choice remarks from his impatient companion.

He was about to ask where they were when he noticed a large sign across the front of the building. It said, Murdoch's Mysteries.

* Edward VII. Statue was moved from India in 1969.