This is a new mini-series I am incorporating into my blog. Stay tuned for more of this slightly different story of time travel.

Chapter 1: Identity Theft

“That tea, Dr. Watson, is up in the cupboard way in the back,” Holmes yelled up at the good doctor who had ensconced himself in the very top of the folding ladder almost as if it were a saddle on a horse. Holmes was worried that Watson would fall and told him to be careful at least three times. Watson reached farther into the back of the cabinet palpating the various boxes hoping to find the imported Indian orange tea he had been craving. He was about to give up when thinking the bright orange label on a small box just out of reach was his sought after prize, he shifted his weight.

With that tiniest shift in his center of gravity, the saddle moved out from beneath him with the rest of the rickety, wooden ladder. And he came tumbling down with a force so unexpected that when his jaw collided with Holmes’ skull the lights went out just as the pain showed up in the base of Watson’s jaw and the crown of Sherlock’s head.

There was complete silence, for it seemed that they had both departed their common world. No one saw them sprawled unconscious on the floor of Holmes’ kitchen. If there was an observer to this scene, the very sight of the orange flavored tea strewn about like common house dust on their unresponsive bodies posed in random calamity was enough to draw a smile on the most indifferent of faces.

Fantastically, they awakened in a new century in the new world in a place calledHartford,Connecticut. Paramedics called to the scene were busily applying oxygen through clear plastic tubes, strapping both Holmes and Watson to boards with red canvas straps, and securing each of their heads tightly to the board. Watson being the sort that would always protest before taking in his environment was assailing the paramedics mercilessly, while Holmes, remaining calm, was trying to ascertain the precise circumstances of their predicament.

Apparently these strange men in rubber suits with Fireman emblazoned across the back and chests had an unexpected familiarity with the two injured gentlemen and dared calling them by unfamiliar surnames without proper introduction. Brazen as this unwelcome familiarity was it gave Holmes the opportunity to acquire new knowledge while it antagonized Watson beyond a fault. It was Watson who declared first that everyone should “shut up” as the din was compounding his recently acquired headache.

Just then blood started to flow out of Watson’s left ear. Holmes could see it and although he had a rudimentary knowledge of medicine he quickly realized that it could only mean one thing. Before he could announce his discovery the tall paramedic who had the air of a supervisor spoke into a small black box attached to his oversized lapel and pronounced the fact: “Blood from the Doctor’s ear suggests a basilar skull fracture.” A voice came back from the box with a rasp. “Load him into the ambulance at once and bypassHartfordhospital. Take him to St. Francis. They have a neurosurgery intensive care unit bed available there.”