Oh my god! It's the best day of my life. First of all, I've just arrived to London. Second, I'll see the Sherlock Holmes museum tomorrow. Lastly, I suddenly realized that I, too, have deduction powers. Extraordinary! I think I'll faint. Someone save me, I'm so excited! Okay, calm down, and think. I should be at the museum at about 8:50, ten minutes before it opens. I should absolutely buy something. ABSOLUTELY. And that's how I fell asleep; thinking about all the amazing things I'll see and do. But something that wasn't part of my plans happened, and happened so quickly that I barely had time to realize what's going on. I got up, arrived to the museum, went to the second floor, looked around, started getting back to the first floor and...fell. I think I was unconscious for about a few hours, maybe more, maybe less. A somewhat familiar voice woke me up.
"Hello? Are you alright?" That sounded so much like Martin Freeman!
"John, it's a burglar, don't be nice to her." And that is Benedict! He said John... I nearly started laughing, but decided to pretend that I'm still unconscious and learn more about what's happening.
"But as a doctor I should see if she's broken any bones or something."
"You can wait until she wakes up." Sherlock (if my theory is right) answered, before muttering, "What a stupid thief."
"Excuse me? Accusing me of stealing! Do you even have any proof?" I asked, sitting up.
"What else would you be doing in this house?" He asked back, looking unbothered while John was freaking out.
"Ok, let's say I actually stole something. If I was going down the stairs, that means that I wanted to get out, right?" I said.
"Yes, but I don't understand how-"
"Do I have anything yours in my pockets? No." I put my hands in my pockets to show them that I've only got my phone and my wallet, only to find that they're missing too, "Have you took things out?"
"No, why would we?" He looked surprised.
"Okay... Well, anyway, I've got absolutely nothing on me, so you can assume that I'm not a thief, Mr. Holmes." I said.
"What's your name?"
"Y/n." This will be funny, I thought.
He wrote it up in his small notebook, "Date of birth?"
"6 January 2000." My birthday was something I was proud of as I was born the same day as Sherlock.
"But that's-"
"Your date of birth too. Yes, I know. Would you mind telling me what year we are?"
He looked astounded, but only for a second, "What year?"
"I think I said it quite clear." I answered.
"2017." He said.
I hummed, thinking, "So?"
"So what?"
"The most logical way to do it would be to give me to the police. I'm no thief, but I'm sure you want me to tell you why I'm here."
"Yes, that's quite right." He nodded.
"I won't. You wouldn't believe me anyway." I shook my head, chuckling.
"Oh yeah? And what makes you think so?" I was really getting on his nerves by this point.
I smiled, amused, "Just a few moments ago, I was in year 2021."
John looked shocked, while Sherlock started laughing after a brief silence.
"Told you."
"So you're telling me that you're from a parallel dimension where it's already 2021."
"Exactly. Also you're characters." I added.
"You mean like...in a movie?" His eyes widened.
"Yep." I stood up, dusting off my pants, "Now, that's enough chitchat. I'll need food, money, and a place to stay while I figure out how to get back to my world."
"Technically you need to be kept under watch." Sherlock informed me.
"Do you count?" I raised my eyebrows.
"As a watcher? Yes." He answered.
"Great. It's settled then!" I smiled, "Now, where's Mrs. Hudson? MRS. HUDSON!"
She came in at once, "No need to shout, dear, I'm right here."
"Can I stay at 221C for a short time? I don't own anything, except for these clothes."
"Oh that's dreadful! I don't think Sherlock and John would mind you settling in 221B. Would you?" She asked, turning to the two men.
"Sure." John said.
"Never." Sherlock said simultaneously.
"Sherlock!" John and Mrs. Hudson exclaimed at once, "You can't do that, look at her!"
"I think she's faking it." He rolled his eyes.
I stepped close to him and lifted him up by the collar of his purple shirt, "Got any proof, Mr. The Great Detective?"
"I would appreciate if you stop strangling me." He said.
"Make me." I smirked.
And he did exactly what I thought he would; he punched me.
"Thanks." I said, facing him again.
"For what?"
"Nothing in particular. But I can prove that I saw a movie with you in it."
"And how?" He looked at me suspiciously.
"How's Mycroft doing? Many troubles for the gouvernement? Oh, by the way, John, I'm sorry for Mary; but, I mean, she was protecting Holmes. How's Rosie? Also, I'm happy Molly divorced that guy, never liked him much. Wait, I forgot, is Irene still alive after that time Sherlock literally tricked his own brother? And Holmes, you thought that Magnussen's glasses weren't ordinary, and that that thing - forgot the name; it was some chemical for project h.o.u.n.d - was in the sugar. You made two mistakes; a bit too much for your lifetime, don't you think?-" I was about to go on but Holmes stopped me.
"Enough."
I started laughing like crazy, "Sorry, mate, but I know pretty much everything about your life from 2010 to 2017."
"Then tell me, what was the first word I said to John on our very first meeting."
"Thank you." I smiled.
He furrowed his eyebrows, "What?"
"These were the first words you ever said the John when he gave you his phone as you needed one because there was no signal on yours. Afterwards you asked 'Afghanistan or Iraq?'; then Molly brought you the coffee - black, two sugars; you talked about flatmates with John; you started leaving because you left your riding crop in the mortuary; John stopped you and said that he doesn't know much about you, that he doesn't know where you're meeting, that he doesn't even know your name; you told him your deductions about him; opened the door; said 'The name's Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street.'; and finally left." I recited.
"Woah...now you've got to believe her!" John exclaimed.
"Nobody told me that there weren't any cameras or listening devices in the room that day." He shrugged.
"And that's how I knew you got a brother, right?" I raise my eyebrows.
"You could've spied on me or stalked me."
"Stalked you? Ew! Okay, who told me you've got a sister named Eurus who you didn't know about until not long ago or that Redbeard, who you thought was a dog, was actually another of your brothers?" I challenged him.
He seemed at a loss, "How..."
"Now you gotta believe me and let me live with you and Hamish while I figure out how I got here and how to get back."
"Hamish?" He asked me.
"Is for the H in John H. Watson." I smiled.
"Sherlock, let her stay." Mrs. Hudson said.
He sighed, "Fine."
"Hooray!" I shouted, making them look at me in a weird way, "Sorry. You just made my life so much easier. Thank you, Sherlock." I smiled genuinely.
"Oh, um, you're welcome." He mumbled.
"As not experienced in common sense as usual!" I laughed wholeheartedly.
"You shouldn't have mentioned this..." John advised me.
"Don't tell me he's gonna get angry at me?"
"Nah, he's just not gonna speak to you for a while." He responded.
"Oh, that's fine! If he doesn't speak to me, I don't speak to him. Simple."
"You guys are kids!" Watson exclaimed in despair.
"Physically? No. Mentally? Yes." I nod.
"Tch." Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"Also, can you guys borrow me some clothes? Please?~" I looked at them with puppy eyes, "I can't wear one piece of clothing for all the time I'm going to be here."
"My clothes are sadly too big for you, sorry." Watson shakes his head, "But your body type resembles Sherlock's a lot. So he probably-"
"One of your sweaters will fit her alright." The detective interrupts.
"Whatever. Thanks for the offer though." I smile genuinely at Watson, ignoring Sherlock, "Can I sleep in the living room on the couch?"
"What do you mean on the couch?! I'll give you my bed, you are a woman after all." Watson exclaims.
"No, no, no, no, no. It's me who is bothering you. I'll sleep on the couch, I'll be fine." I shake my head.
"A bed is better though..." I hear the detective mumble behind me, apparently not wanting to be heard. There's NO way I'm not teasing him on that.
I smile, "Let's go back to 221B."
"Sure." Watson shows the way as me and the detective follow.
"I heard that." I whisper to Sherlock as we walk.
"Heard what?" He plays dumb. And good, too, I might add.
"Oh, nothing important." I shake it off.
