Time is a strange thing
A cracktastic (Probably extremely OOC, too) little AU with a cameo trying to make it a crossover. This started out as a drabble, but kinda exploded…
Internet cookies to anyone who 1) recognizes the cameo and 2) knows the people referenced
"What do you think it is?"
Holmes moved around the strange, black and yellow contraption that had appeared behind our hotel on the outskirts of London. Sitting on four wheels each nearly a foot wide, it was like no bicycle I had ever seen, but a four-wheeled bicycle—perhaps a quad-cycle?—is what it most resembled. The seat approximated a bicycle seat more than a chair, with bicycle handlebars to serve as steering, and a series of metal bars crisscrossed back and forth over the areas in front of the handlebars and behind the seat. The handlebars sported so many levers, knobs, and buttons I had no idea if we should even be looking at it.
How could such a thing have ended up here?
"I think it is a carriage of some sort."
I glanced up. "A carriage?" I repeated.
There was a short pause before he answered, still studying the contraption in front of us. "The handlebars steer the wheels, and that is obviously a seat, however strange it is to have a saddle seat on an open carriage." He paused, thinking. "But there is nowhere to tether a horse, nor would a horse be able to pull such a heavy object…" He trailed off, circling to the vehicle's other side before shoving hard against the black material fastened above the wheels.
"Aha!"
"What?" I came around to find him closely inspecting a large block of metal visible under the seat.
"This is its horse," he asserted, still poking his way into the metal.
"A metal horse? Like those motorcars Benz started announcing a few months ago?"
"Exactly. It is a small, open motorcar. But how does it start?"
He moved around to the front, looking for the crank, but all he could find between the front wheels was a tightly coiled length of metal cable. I looked up by the seat, remembering an alternate design another inventor had been trying.
"This looks like a keyhole, Holmes."
"And here is a key!" He pulled free a small box that had been stuck beneath the coiled wire. A key shone in the sunlight when he removed the box's lid, and it slipped easily into the keyhole I had found. He turned the key.
Numbers and letters appeared on a small flat area at the base of the handlebars, but the engine remained silent.
"It must have a separate starter," I said, expecting a comment about stating the obvious.
He ignored me, returning to examining the motor beneath the seat, and I studied the handlebars.
"Holmes?" I asked after a moment, waiting for him to make a sound of acknowledgement before continuing, "Maybe you're looking in the wrong place."
He glanced up at me, raising an eyebrow. I kept studying something next to one handle, trying to decide if the design meant what I thought it might.
"You are treating it like a current invention, but Benz's machines look nothing like this. His are much larger, and this motor is a fraction of the size of his motor."
"Get to the point, Watson."
"That is my point. Stop treating it as if it was made in the next city. Treat it as if it was made in the next century."
He looked at me as if I had lost my mind, but I ignored him, pressing the small, square button that had caught my eye. Holmes nearly jumped backwards as the motor roared to life not twelve inches from his face.
"I do not think you will be able to write off the supernatural anymore, Holmes," I said quietly, watching as the machine settled into an even rumble, idling in a way Benz had been trying to achieve for years. "How did this travel from whenever it was made to now?"
"That would be my fault."
We spun around to see a young lady standing behind us wearing the strangest clothing. Faded blue trousers and a pink shirt similar to an undershirt but that was obviously meant to be the top layer hung loosely over her lithe frame. Long, blonde hair was pulled back in a simple braid that hung down her back, she carried some sort of thick, hard hat, and she wore the strangest pair of shoes I had ever seen. A pair of thin glasses rested high on her nose.
She visibly started as we turned, and a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "I was going to be surprised that you got it started, but if anyone could, it would be Sherlock Holmes and John Watson," she told us, smirking. "What are you doing this far from Baker Street?"
"You have the advantage of us when it comes to names, Mrs…" Holmes trailed off, waiting for her to finish.
"I go by Grace," she answered. "Miss Grace, if you need a prefix. I'm not married."
"That is not an engagement ring," he replied, his gaze flicking to her left hand. I glanced down and saw the small pink cross on her third finger that had caught his eye.
"It is not," she confirmed, something very close to a smirk twitching her mouth. "It has a different purpose."
Holmes opened his mouth to ask what that purpose was, but I cut him off to answer her question. "We just finished a case." I gestured toward the still-rumbling machine next to us as I continued, "What is it?"
"We call it an ATV," she answered as she circled the machine, apparently checking for damage. "That stands for All-Terrain Vehicle. It's something like a meld between a—" she broke off, glancing up, "What year is it?"
"1886," I replied, trying not to show my surprise at this confirmation that she had traveled through time.
"So you know what a motorcar is?" she checked. I nodded, and she finished her sentence, "between a bicycle, a carriage, and a motorcar." Finished checking her machine, she glanced at a device on her wrist then studied us. "I have to be careful what I say and do," she said with a smile, glancing between us, "but I can freely admit that I wish I could stay for a while, and not just to study a city over a hundred years before I was born. It would be dangerous for me to stay overlong, but I have some time before I can get home. Do you want a ride?"
Holmes frowned, still scanning her and deducing I had no idea how many things. He was taking this well, I thought, considering his staunch stance on anything "illogical."
I wondered why she seemed so excited to meet us, but her expression reminded me of Holmes' when he was bursting with news he could not share. "You would not make it to the street before you were surrounded," I disputed instead of asking. "The sound alone is bound to have the Yard on the way."
A quiet laugh escaped. "They can't see or hear it. The only reason you can is because you noticed it before I got here. I had to learn that a long time ago."
"How did you get here?" Holmes finally asked the building question.
"Prank gone wrong," she replied, turning off the engine and leaning against the machine to continue studying us. "My bratty little cousin apparently forgot that the travel aids his father gave him had much more power than he could ever hope to gain on his own. I'm pretty sure he tried to send me to China instead of the late eighteen-hundreds. Can you tell me about your case?"
Holmes ignored her question again. "Your…cousin sent you back in time?" The confusion in his gaze nearly made me laugh aloud. The lady in front of us was barely in her mid-twenties, yet someone younger than her had successfully time traveled, no matter how accidently. What other things were possible in her time?
"Yup." She laughed again at our surprised expressions. "Suffice to say his dad is really powerful. Thankfully, so are my mother and great grandfather. I swiped one of the travel devices to study it, but it won't work for me until the shadows lengthen."
"What do the shadows have to do with it?"
She shook her head, refusing to answer Holmes' question. "Can you tell me about your case?" she asked again.
I shook my head, frowning at having to deny her request. It would do no harm to tell her, but, "We promised not to speak of it."
She nodded, easily accepting that. "That's a shame. I'm sure it would be interesting to hear. My offer of a ride still stands, though. Do you want a short ride on a machine that won't be invented for another hundred years or so?"
I knew I did, but I looked over at Holmes, letting him make the decision. He hesitated for a long moment but finally nodded, and I felt a smile escape.
"You don't have helmets," she said, gesturing to the thick hat she held, "so we won't go very fast. One of you will have to sit on the front, but I have a seat the other can use."
Holmes waved me toward the seat and nimbly claimed the metal bars on the front of the machine, and I looked back at Miss Grace to see her wrestling a two-foot wide pad into place.
"Where the blazes did you get that?" I blurted.
She laughed, waving off my apologies. "I can fit a lot in my bag," she said simply, pointing to a silvery bag I hadn't noticed hanging limply on her back.
I decided it was probably safer not to comment, and she showed me how to reach the seat before stepping aside to let me sit down. The seat was a thick, firm cushion, and my feet rested relatively comfortably on a metal grate suspended between the wheels.
Once I stopped adjusting, she stepped up to reach the handlebars, then stopped, glanced at me, and stepped back to the ground.
"You have difference cultural norms than I do," she said, apparently just remembering. "I see nothing wrong with carrying a passenger, but is it going to be a problem for me to stand directly in front of you?"
I glanced between her and the seat, quickly realizing she meant to stand mere inches in front of me.
I hesitated for a moment too long, and she nodded. "Get back up and we can reorganize. I will only be able to take one at a time, but I can still give each of you a quick ride."
"No," I said quickly. "It is alright. I just did not expect it. You frequently carry a passenger like this?"
"All the time," she answered, quickly swinging a leg over the seat to stand in front of me. "You can grab the cargo rack—that's the metal bars—if you need to, but the road is level and we won't go that fast. Is this alright?"
She had placed her feet on the forwardmost part of the metal grate, straddling the seat to see around where Holmes sat. The bag hanging limply from her shoulders shimmered faintly silver barely six inches from my nose.
I wrapped a hand around the closest bar. "Ready," I answered.
The machine rumbled to life, then lurched as she hit a button, and we rolled forward barely slower than a fast walk, bouncing slightly over the uneven ground as she took us toward the street. Coming out from behind the building, we pulled onto the strangely empty road, and Miss Grace called a warning to hold on just before the engine roared. We sped down the road faster than anyone would dare ride a horse, and I let out an involuntary laugh. Holmes glanced back with a grin of his own, daring to take one hand off the bar he had been gripping. This was amazing!
Turning around at the next intersection, we raced back to the hotel in the same manner, and I made no attempt to hide my grin as she stepped onto solid ground.
"Fun, isn't it?" she asked with a smirk.
Holmes could not quite kill his own smile, and it grew slightly larger as he offered his hand to help me off the saddle-seat.
"Certainly," was my nearly breathless reply. "For what do you use it?"
"An ATV transports easily and can go places our other vehicles can't reach," she answered, removing the cushion I had used and somehow sliding it into that silvery bag. "Growing up, my dad and I used one to climb mountains for the fun of it, but I was supposed to be using this one to pick up supplies from the barracks. Peter will be wondering if I got lost."
I nearly voiced a question about who Peter was but decided against it. "Thank you for the ride, Miss Grace," I said instead.
Holmes nodded agreement but asked a question of his own. "How will you get home?"
Slinging her bag back over her shoulders, she reached a hand into her pocket and brought out a small, black pearl. "My great uncle made them first," she said, "but his brother modified the idea to use shadows instead of saltwater. Both are eternal, but saltwater is harder to find." The pearl disappeared into her hand, and she studied us for a moment, evidently making a decision. "You cannot tell anyone about me. They would not believe you if you did, and it might make it dangerous in my time. Give me your word you will reveal nothing about my visit to another, please."
We agreed easily, and she relaxed. "That's one good thing about the eighteen-hundreds," she muttered, fiddling with something on one handle. With one last adjustment, she stood and walked to a tree about ten feet in front of her machine.
"Stay over there," she ordered. "If you are too close, you will come, too."
Both of us took a large step back, and she smirked, placing the pearl on a cleared spot of earth.
"It was wonderful to meet you," she said on her way back to the machine, offering to shake hands. She had a firm handshake very unlike the limp hand most ladies offered.
"Likewise," I returned in unison with Holmes. He hated when I did that, and he scowled at me. I covered a smirk as she turned to walk back towards the ATV.
Putting a hand to my pocket, I exchanged a look with Holmes before speaking up. "Miss Grace?"
She looked over from where she had been securing a hook on the front cargo rack, and I withdrew a journal from my pocket.
"I have already copied these case notes for our records," I said, "but my promise does not prevent you reading them, given the time difference. I would like you to have them."
Her jaw dropped, and she hurried back over as a large grin split her face. "Seriously?"
I nodded, wondering why she was so excited, and her grin widened as I handed her the journal.
"Thank you!"
"You are most welcome."
Nearly hugging the journal, she shook our hands again before slipping the book in that silvery bag.
"I am glad he sent me here," she told us as she mounted her vehicle, a smile still splitting her face, "and even more glad you happened by. I wish I could stay longer, or say we would meet again, but…" She let the sentence trail off with a shrug. "My cousin is going to be in so much trouble when his dad finds out, and I would hate to be stuck in Victorian England. Women can't do anything here." She gave a comical shiver, smirking when I chuckled.
She checked the flat area in front of the seat before glancing up in parting. "May I give some advice, considering your future is my history?" We nodded, and she looked at Holmes first. He raised an eyebrow. "Actions are great, but sometimes words need to back them up. I hope you learn that before you lose the greatest gift another person could ever give you." He frowned, considering her words, and she looked over at me.
"Keep writing those stories, Doctor, and don't get discouraged if publishers reject them. My brother and sister are going to be extremely jealous I met London's crime-solving team." She pulled her bag tighter over her shoulders, as if checking it was still there, and it seemed to grow heavier for the briefest moment, sagging down her back before going limp again.
I am sure my jaw fell open, and she laughed as the engine revved. A farewell mixed with the sounds of the engine, and she shot forward, crushing the pearl under one wheel. In an instant, Holmes and I were alone once again.
Neither of us said anything for a long moment.
"Well," Holmes finally broke the silence, "she was certainly a character."
"The future is apparently very different," I agreed, following him back towards our rooms. Her words echoed in my mind, and my thoughts flicked to the manuscripts sitting on my desk beneath a pile of rejection letters.
Silence fell again, and this time it remained unbroken. I had no words to put to such an experience, and I knew Holmes would want to think it over before speaking of it even with me. We had been planning on taking a walk when we first noticed the machine, but after that ride, I think I preferred a drink in front of the fire. My pulse still raced from traveling at such a speed, and I needed some time to absorb the personality that was Miss Grace.
I poured us each a drink when we reached our rooms, and we passed a silent evening in borrowed armchairs, each mulling over a future that could create such an unusual young lady.
I found myself rather hoping I would get to see part of the change that would have to occur for such a future to be possible.