Max looked out her window into the long expanse of blue water beyond.
"Attention, we will be arriving in New York at 8pm eastern time."
She sighed, once again, pondering how this all had come about. Vampires, the school, the flock. A secret war was being fought across the globe. And it was becoming more and more noticed.
I wish Angel had stayed back there, but she seems to be uncomfortable with master around.
As they crossed another time zone, Max found her eyes drooping. This whole thing was exhausting, and she had managed to stay awake the whole flight back.
Maybe just a quick nap.
.
"Oh will you get up already!"
When she did pry her eyes open, she definitely was not on a plane anymore. She was sitting in a large wooden rocking chair. It was an apartment, and she swore she had seen one exactly like it on television before.
"Ah, finally." Came the accented voice again.
She hadn't even noticed that someone else was in the room until she looked over to the window. Against the sunlight stood a finely dressed man with his back to her, most noticeable was his curly black hair.
"Uh, this is cliche, but where am I?"
"Isn't it blatantly-oh right, I forgot everyone isn't me."
He turned to face her, presenting his very sharp and smug face. He proceeded to raise a violin bow into the air and wave it like a teacher would with a ruler.
"The room, it seems vaguely familiar. But you don't place it exactly, so you presume everything is in order and ignore the small incorrect features. You didn't even consider this room has a door out, therefore, there isn't one until just a moment ago when you considered it so you subconsciously added one so the setting makes sense."
"Um. What does that have to do with anything." Max inquired, slightly perplexed by the man's roundabout thinking.
He sighed and looked back to the window.
"Even Watson can figure that out. You're dreaming."
Max raised an eyebrow. Really unsure what to ask next.
"So...dreaming? Yeah, uh, Watson?"
"Yes."
"As in ?"
"That is correct."
Max burst out of the chair and yelled suddenly;"then you're Sherlock Holmes!"
"Yes, well actually, that's only partially correct. I'm the spirit of your guns, Bulletdict Cumberbatch." Sherlock walked over to the nearby couch and grabbed his violin by the neck.
"Wait, spirit? Why am I talking to the personification of my guns?"
"Because I bare a warning. A warning of someone as deadly as my arch nemesis."
"Moriarty?" Max asked, bending forward.
"No, J.J. Abrams. I can't believe he convinced me Star Trek would be a hit." he shrugged and began to play a tune,"but the one I warn of is assumption!"
"Assumption?"
"Yes Max, those who assume generally do it based on instinct. Never do that, always back up your thoughts, with facts!"
Suddenly, a loud moan pierced the air. Sherlock withdrew his phone and grinned at the ringtone. Quickly he threw aside his violin and grabbed his coat.
"Another case! I really must be off, so consider this it for now." He laughed, walking out the door.
"Wait! I still don't get this!" Max hollered back, before collapsing back into her chair.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we will be landing in ten minutes, please shut down all electronic devices."
Max wearily opened an eye, looking down to the steel case between her and a sleeping Angel.
Weird dream.