Bonds of Time

London 1891

It was one of the finest days that London could offer; as dreary and cloudy as London could offer. And the evening was as bleak as the day had been.

Two men were walking down the semi-deserted street. One was slightly taller than the other. One could say that what the shorter person lacked in height more than made up for in sharpness of mind and tongue. However, casting any shadow of dullness on the taller person would not be doing justice to either of them.

In fact, the taller person so happened to be the famous Doctor John Watson, while the shorter one was the equally famous detective Sherlock Holmes. And as was usual to them, they were arguing.

“I just can’t see how cocaine use can stimulate your mind. Please enlighten me.” The blue eyed doctor was saying.

“As soon as you moved out of 221B Baker Street, I’m afraid you lost all right of complaint regarding my habits, my dear doctor.” Holmes said.

“Oh for goodness sake Holmes! I’m getting married-”

“But technically, you’re not married yet.”

“Yes, but I will marry her. You wouldn’t have wanted Mary to move in with us in 221B, would you?”

Holmes didn’t respond, but his expression was answer enough.

“Judging from your disgusted look, I’d conclude that you wouldn’t have been very pleased.” Watson said, trying to keep a straight face. “However, your tactics of making me forget our original discussion about your less than pleasant addictions did not work.” He continued.

“Almost.” The detective responded.

“Almost, but not quite.” Watson responded.

Just at that moment, a distraction in the form of a young woman arguing with a man renowned for his quick fingers arrived.

“That is mine!” she was saying as she tried to reach for an odd black object in the man’s hand. “Besides, you don’t even know how to use that anyway!”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m sure I’ll find some university pr’fessor that’d give a nice sum for it.”

“It’s useless here. You won’t be making much money from it.”

“Lady, do I look rich to you? Even a single bloody penny would be a help!” he spat.

“Ha! As if I look rich!”

“You look a sight better than me, you do.”

“Oh really? I have no money, I have no friggin’ idea where I am, this is most certainly not my time and you’ve stolen my phone from me!” she shouted the last part and tried to jump higher to reach for the black object. However the man, being taller than her simply raised his hand higher out of her reach and smirked at her.

She stopped and seemed to calculate him for a split second.

And then without warning she stamped her foot on his bare and dirt encrusted one. A gasp of shock escaped his mouth as he bent slightly forward, however she didn’t give him any chance. As quick as lightning, she rammed her knee in his diaphragm, and as expected, he bent even more. This time, it was enough for her to reach for the black object, pluck it from his hand and run.

She was running straight towards them, trying to distance herself from the-would-be thief following her. However, he, being much taller than her, was catching up rather quickly.

And it was at that moment that Sherlock Holmes decided to intervene. He grabbed the running woman’s arm and pulled her behind him and his friend just as the thief’s hand closed around the space where her elbow had been moments before.

He was tall, paunchy and red-haired. His clothes had certainly seen better days, as had his rotting and cracked teeth.

”Keep ou’ of it, fop!” he growled as he tried to reach for the blonde woman behind them, who only ducked to avoid him.

”I’d advise you to leave. That was not your property, and stealing from a lady is not very nice, is it?” John said.

“I said, keep out of it! What’s in it for you, anyway?”

“Oh, nothing at all. Except keeping my cousin safe. You wouldn’t want me to call on Lestrade, would you? We’re not exactly the closest of friends, but he’d be very pleased to receive my invitation.” Sherlock said.

The man stopped, and looked at them with narrowed eyes.

“Who are you?” he said.

“Sherlock Holmes, private detective. And this is Doctor John Watson. How about we all go on our merry way? I’m sure you have to go and inform your criminal friends why you weren’t successful in robbing the poor lady.”

And with a nod of his head, Holmes turned and started walking back, closely followed by Watson.

“Come with us, he’s watching and will probably follow us.” Watson whispered to the young blonde woman, who only nodded and followed them, the black object safe in her hands.

“I-thanks for helping me.” She said.

John was about to respond, but Sherlock was quicker than him.

“I hope you won’t make a habit of it, madam.”

John closed his mouth, as she raised an eyebrow.

“While I’m grateful for your help, I did not ask for it. So being stingy about help given out of free will makes no sense, sir.” She bit back.

“I never said that.” He replied.

“Directly, no. But indirectly that is exactly what you meant.”

“Now, that’s a very poor way of repaying someone who helped you out of a tight position, madam.”

“I am grateful for your help. Very grateful in fact. And please stop calling me madam.”

Holmes looked at her in surprise.

“If you insist on such a formal way of address, ‘Miss’ would be enough, sir.” She said, adding the ‘sir’ as if in an afterthought.

It was quite clear to both Holmes and Watson that wherever she came from, polite address was not the norm.

Just as they turned a corner into Baker Street, the almost inaudible patter of feet slowed down, confirming that the red haired pursuer was still behind them, albeit at a slower pace.

They soon arrived at a house, 221B, where the detective took out a key and opened the door, closing it behind the last person. At that moment, Watson turned towards her, noticing her very obvious discomfort and nervousness.

“An hour or two here should be enough to shake him off your trail. In the meantime, I hope you’d like a cup of tea with us.” John said as the young woman bit her lip and nodded, following them up the stairs.

They went into Holmes’ rooms, which were as messy as ever.

“Holmes, I thought you said that you cleaned up.” Watson sighed, as he sat in an armchair.

“I never said that, my dear friend. I only said that everything is in its proper place.” Holmes replied, sitting into another armchair and pulling a sheaf of papers towards him.

They both looked at the young woman, who was looking at a list of the elements stuck with pins to the wall.

“That’s a-“

“List of the known elements, yes I know.” She said, interrupting Watson, as she turned and sat down in the last remaining armchair.

“I’m sorry, we haven’t properly introduced ourselves. I’m John Watson.” He said as he kissed her hand.

“And this is–“

“Sherlock Holmes, madam.” The sleuth interrupted as he extended his hand and shook hers. She looked at them in surprise.

“I don’t want to seem rude or anything, but...aren’t Sherlock Holmes and John Watson supposed to be fictional characters?”

“I assure you, madam, just because my dear friend publishes his journals, does not mean that we are a figment of someone’s imagination. We most certainly are not fictional.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. Anyway, forget it. I’m Giselle Elmer. I hope I’m not being a bother.” She said, her nervousness apparent once again.

“Do not worry Miss Elmer, you’re not.” Watson replied kindly, not trusting his friend to speak.

Just at that moment, Mrs Hudson, the landlady walked in with a teapot of steaming tea and three china cups, placed them on a cluttered table and went out again.

Time passed awkwardly, with Holmes shuffling through his papers and Watson engaging Giselle in small talk. The conversation lapsed into another awkward silence, until Holmes put down his papers, stopping all pretence, and looked directly at her.

“So tell me, Miss Elmer, how did you end up in that particular part of London? While it isn’t the poorest, it most certainly is not the best place for young woman to be alone.” He said.

“I don’t know. The last thing I remember was walking through a steel door in a physics laboratory in the university I attend. It had no knobs or any way of opening it from the inside. And then, all these flashing laser lights came on and everything started spinning and spinning and then I woke up in that street. That man, whoever he was tried to rob me, and then you came into the picture. Could you please tell me the year?”

Watson and Holmes looked at each other in surprise.

She was odd, that much could be gathered from her clothes, which seemed so out of place. But to not know the year...

”It’s eighteen ninety one, Miss Elmer. Are you alright?” Watson said, frowning as her mouth dropped open in surprise.

“1891? But-“ She stopped and slapped her forehead. “Eighteen ninety one, the number on the door! Dear God, how could I have been so stupid?” she whispered to herself.

She looked up. Her eyes were wide and she had gone white. Noticing their looks of curiousness, she said “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try us.” Holmes said, with half a smile on his lips.

She took a shuddering breath, trying to calm her racing heart.

“There’s a project going on in the physics department of the university I mentioned. They, that is to say the physicists, were trying to develop a machine that would take a person back in time. It works, only there is no way of going back once you step in. I must have activated it. Christ, what am I going to do?” she said, murmuring the last part to herself as she rubbed her eyes as if in exhaustion.

Sherlock leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

“That’s rather unbelievable. How do we know you’re not lying?”

“Why should I lie?” he shrugged.

“Do I look as if I belong here? Have you ever seen any clothes like mine? Or better yet, have you ever seen anything remotely like this?”

She pulled out the black object that was almost stolen from her pocket and handed it to them. It was smooth and shiny and had a small button for each letter of the alphabet.

“It’s called a mobile phone. It’s very much like a portable telephone. Graham has already invented it, hasn’t he?” she said as Watson nodded in confirmation.

She sighed and put her face in her hands. The situation was awkward enough without the revelation that the physics department’s project had worked.

John looked towards the mantelpiece, where a clock was standing.

“I’m afraid I have to leave. I have dinner with the in-laws, and I really don’t want to be late. It was nice meeting you, Miss Elmer. I hope your situation improves in the near future.” He said as he stood up and put on his coat and hat.

“It was nice meting you too, doctor and thanks again for your help.” She replied, looking up.

“I’ll walk you down to the door.” Sherlock said as he stood up and, after knocking a pile of papers to the floor, hurried after his friend out the door, closing it firmly behind him.

“You’re leaving me alone with her?” He hissed as he followed John down the stairs.

“I’m sure that you’re more than able to handle her.” John replied as he opened the door and stepped out.

He looked back at his friend.

“Besides, some company might do you well, Holmes.”