The Wind Blows

[Sherlock Holmes]

He noticed that when he scoffed at her, her lips turned into a thin line to show her annoyance. Honestly, this was why he didn’t get along with female kind. Regardless of the fact that they had been sent into a strange time, she still got angry over the littlest thing. Sherlock was not about to offer an apology; then again he hardly ever apologized to strangers. He still hadn’t even apologized to Mary Morstern for making those uncomfortable assumptions about her during their first meeting.

He was suddenly struck with the fact that this Mary and the Mary who was to become Mrs. Watson were quite similar. Both were governesses, both were named Mary, both seemed to hold a ‘no-nonsense’ policy, and both seemed quite annoyed with him. Wonderful, he had only just gotten used to one Mary, and now he had to get used to the other. Hopefully, they would get out of this mess, and this Mary would go off to her own time. Most likely, he would not hear from her again.

“Yes, and here, Accio, meaning ‘I call’ or ‘I summon’.”

The detective was impressed, so she did have an understanding of Latin phrases. Then again, she was from 1910. Already in his time, women were starting to protest for equal rights. Perhaps by 1910 women were allowed in Cambridge and Oxford, able to study along side men.

Sherlock had no real issue with women voting. Honestly, if you are being taxed, you should be able to vote. Even though women were extremely emotional creatures, Holmes knew that there were some who had enough intelligence to vote on issues of government. The one that stood out in his mind, however, wasn’t even a British citizen, but American. And the Americans still were dealing with the letting those of African decent vote, let alone letting women vote.

”It is the same in my time, I have only ever heard it used by scholars or in the law. Well, there’s only one way to find out if these are what I think they are,”

Holmes raised an eyebrow, “And what exactly do you think these are?” They looked to him like commands. Perhaps sort of like the contraption Blackwood had tried to use, that used radio waves to start his machine. Since they were both very far into the future, perhaps this was the newest technology. Using Latin terms to command a machine to do what you want. And the machine looked like a thin piece of wood, able to hold it in your hand.

“Accio fedora.”

With little to no warning, Sherlock’s hat flew off his head and went right toward the nanny. “By god…” He muttered in true shock. He wasn’t used to feeling shock, but when he did it was usually replaced by intrigue. He ran his fingers through his messy hair, his mind racing to bring about the conclusion.

“You have encountered this before, then?” He asked, “They seem to be commands, used on this device.” His finger grazed the drawing of the wand, “But you don’t have this device on person…” He seemed to be talking to himself, more than Mary.

[Mary Poppins]

“And what exactly do you think these are?”

Mary had no time to explain, rather she thought a demonstration might be the best remedy for any scepticism in her mind or Mr Holmes's. She took a step back and followed instructions.

“By god…”

Mary smiled enigmatically as the fedora happily displaced itself and flew gracefully into her gloved hand as if it had wanted to be there all along. She instinctively dusted it off. While the use of magic wands was, to Mary's mind, an unnecessary flourish, the magic itself seemed most effective and directed. For the new user this was, no doubt, a highly effective way of directing thought and intent. Wonderful for young practitioners.

“You have encountered this before, then?” “They seem to be commands, used on this device.” “But you don’t have this device on person…”

Her action seemed to have spurred on Mr Holmes keen intellect and desire to find the logical solution. He asked her a question and then seemed uninterested in her answer as he rattled on his own string of theories to explain the unusual occurrence. She did love to watch the logical at work on problems that were beyond the average logical explanation. It made life exceedingly interesting. After all, to her, all that had happened was absolutely
logical. Of course, her definition of 'logical' had oftentimes clashed somewhat with that of those like Mr Holmes.

Her smile remained as she gently put the fedora on her head in place of the hat that she had lost in the storm. While she preferred not to wear a hat indoors, she could not help but think it heightened the dramatic effect of her demonstration. It was not usually polite to be dramatic, but the Detective, Sherlock Holmes, seemed to bring out her cheeky side.

"Things are not always as they seem Mr Holmes," she leaned on her umbrella like one would on a walking stick, "nor are they instantly explicable, but it is certain, that they can most certainly be useful." She left no explanation of the occurrence, only leaving his mind to work through it all. It was somewhat entertaining to watch him shuffle through each fact like a card used to teach children their vowel sounds.

"Perhaps," she began again, "it is time to hae word with the patron of this store. We might be able to glean more information as to our whereabouts and the possibilities of..." she stopped. She had been about to say 'returning home', but a deep sense of rebellion flared up, rather like indigestion, to suggest that much more was waiting to be taken in without the pressures of her illustrious responsibilities. She was free in 1999 to do what she had not been able to do in 1913. It was tantilizing and she took a moment to contemplate it. Of course, there were the children... they would manage. And, her mind shuffled uncomfortably. There was Bert.

She shook her head and brought herself back to the occasion. She forgot what she had been saying. She looked expectantly at Mr Holmes, "Well, what do you say Mr Holmes?"

[Sherlock Holmes]

He glanced at her in slight annoyance when she put his fedora on her head. It did look rather silly on her, a man’s hat on a woman’s head. Or maybe it was because she was so used to seeing the bonnets and other hat styles on women in his own time. Besides, just because she was attempting to proof a point, did not mean that she could keep his fedora. But before he could attempt to ask it back, the nanny started to talk again.

"Things are not always as they seem Mr Holmes, nor are they instantly explicable, but it is certain, that they can most certainly be useful."

Well, that hardly seemed to answer his question at all. It was not an explanation, but rather a divergent. She was not about to tell him that these were actual magic spells, but let him imply what may. He sighed and closed the book of spells in his hand, putting the newspaper in the pages to mark his place. Sherlock decided that for now, he would have to wait and see how events unfolded. Then he would find out what exactly this business was about.

"Perhaps, it is time to have word with the patron of this store. We might be able to glean more information as to our whereabouts and the possibilities of..."

Sherlock nodded, but suddenly something caught his eye. Two men had entered the store, both wearing heavy cloaks with the hoods up to cover their faces. One was but a bit shorter than the other, the taller of the two walked with a small limp. While the other had his head tilted slightly to the right, some deafness perhaps?

But it was not so much the men themselves who were fascinating, as the people’s reaction to them. The store was rather crowded, but the moment these two figures appeared, it went deathly silent. Some people who were close enough to the door, sneaked through it after the gentlemen had gotten to the middle of the room. People backed away from them as if they had the plague.

"Well, what do you say Mr Holmes?"

”….Everyone… get out…” snarled the taller man as he got to the counter. It was as if a trigger had been snapped, and all the crowd made a beeline for the door, rushing out of it as if the devils were after them. The poor clerk was left alone, a small whimper on the lad’s face showed that he wanted to join the crowd, but the taller man had other ideas.

He pulled out a wand and pointed it at the man’s face, ”Go get the owner…” The clerk practically tripped as he ran to the back room without hesitation.

Meanwhile, as others ran for safety, Holmes grabbed Mary’s arm gently and lead her behind some bookcases, out of sight from the new arrivals. “I believe those men have the same idea, Miss. Poppins…” He mumbled, gazing above some books to observe the men waiting for the owner.

“Madam, I do not know what these men might want, but we must understand,” He looked away from the scene in front of him to gaze at Mary, “That we are guests to this time. By now, I am probably six feet under, popping up daisies. Any action we take from here on out, could alter the very fabric of time and space. We must proceed with caution.” With those hushed words said, he gazed back over the books to see that the owner was shakily walking out toward the shady gentlemen….

[Mary Poppins]

”….Everyone… get out…”

Mr Holmes had no time to answer Mary’s query. As she had been wondering about the possibilities of not returning home, two men had entered the store. They were even more strangely dressed than the others, their robes dramatically worn to slightly conceal their appearance. Mary could not help but sense the deeply sinister effect that this had on the company within the store. At the command, the shop was vacated as swiftly as a dock after the evening-shift whistle had blown.

Mary watched a moment longer as the taller of the two men reached into his robes and pulled out a wand, much like the one she had seen in the book Mr Holmes had liberated from the nearby shelf.

”Go get the owner…”

Mary jumped slightly as Holmes took hold of her arm and led her behind a bookshelf. Her mouth opened, poised to protest out of sheer habit, but she managed to withhold any comment on his manhandling her to avoid drawing the attention of the newcomers. It did not, however, stop the outraged frown that had appeared on her face. Her wide-eyed stare appeared wasted on him, however, as his gaze darted between the shelves to appraise the situation.

“I believe those men have the same idea, Miss. Poppins…”

She assumed he meant they shared her opinion on seeing the owner of the store, not on the rights of women and the arrogance of forcibly shoving one behind a bookcase. Not to mention the fact of their very young acquaintance. She swallowed her irritation and put his actions down to protective instincts; a very generous gesture she felt.

”Perhaps they’re on their way to a party and just popped in to seek a recommendation on works for the next meeting of The Cloak and Dagger Society,” she whispered sarcastically, passing quiet judgment on the ridiculousness of their outfitting and brusqueness of manner. Her disdainful humour seemed lost on the detective, however, as he continued to take in the scene unfolding before them.

“Madam, I do not know what these men might want, but we must understand that we are guests to this time. By now, I am probably six feet under, popping up daisies. Any action we take from here on out, could alter the very fabric of time and space. We must proceed with caution.”

He turned his intense gaze on her and Mary pulled back slightly at his closeness. The impact of those keenly concentrated eyes caused her to drop all levity, however caustic, and sense the gravity of what he was feeling. Mary was not often concerned by things, excluding, of course, Uncle Albert’s days, but she felt that she and Mr Holmes had landed, quite literally, in the middle of something unpleasant. Mary returned his intense gaze with a seriousness of her own and nodded curtly in agreement to his concerns about the impact they might have on this new world. While she could not identify with the thought of being six feet under and ‘pushing up daisies’, as he so eloquently put it, she was more at home with the caution that made him think twice about his actions.

How long had she lived attuned to the subtle nuances and changes that popping in and out of people’s lives caused?

”I understand you perfectly,” she whispered back.

“More so than you could imagine,” she thought.

They turned their attention back to the two men as the owner stumbled out of a back room. He was an older man, with graying hair and a crinkled face, now white with fear. It was clear that he knew these two men, or at least their intent and Mary felt that giddiness within that was so like worry.

”Where is the book, Grifkin?” the larger of the men muttered darkly, stepping closer to the owner, his wand poised. The other man turned to look over his shoulder suspiciously, as if he knew they were not alone. Mary felt herself holding her breath. He turned his head to look around the shop briefly before turning back to the owner. As his gaze traveled over their hiding place, Mary felt herself involuntarily take hold of Mr Holmes’s sleeve and grip tightly. They remained undiscovered.

The owner looked from one to the other before sumbling quietly over his words, ”I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

[Sherlock Holmes]

Holmes ignored her enraged look after he had pulled them both to safety. She would get over it, of course. Better her alive, well, and angry than being hurt by the two ruffians when they took notice that both he and the madam had not listened to his order. They were henchmen, of course.

He had been around criminal masterminds long enough to know the difference between the alpha dog and the lower filth that took the alpha’s orders. Perhaps they were apart of some sort of gang? It would explain the like-wise way of dressing.

”Perhaps they’re on their way to a party and just popped in to seek a recommendation on works for the next meeting of The Cloak and Dagger Society,”

Sherlock’s lips twitched, “But of course, why else would you enter a book store except to find a book?” Amusement flickered in his hushed tones, before disappearing into its serious mask. Now was not the time to make fun of criminals who were right in front of you.

He of course, noted just how close they were, when he stated his warning. Of course, it was not an intimate sort of thing, at least not for him. He saw the realization cross her face, that this was not just a jolly holiday anymore. But had turned into something that could be potentially dangerous. He would rather not return to Baker Street only to find his home in ruins and everything topsy-turvy, because of a mistake he had made to this future world. Everything had to be thought out now, before action was made. Of course, he had experience in doing things quickly while thinking about each move at the same time.

”I understand you perfectly,”

Holmes nodded, glad that at least they were on the same page. After all, only working together would they be able to return to their prospective times. Her to 1913, and him to 1882. As fascinating as this time traveling business was, he knew that meddling with it had to be extremely dangerous.

He watched the older man emerge from the back of the store, his face white with recognition. The ageing store owner knew these men and their purpose, which only confirmed that these men were apart of some sort of brutal gang. He wondered idly whether the people who had vacated the store would have the sense to call upon the authorities, or whether they were too afraid to.

”Where is the book, Grifkin?”

As the unspeaking person started to look across their hiding place, he felt a slight pressure on his shirtsleeve. Miss. Poppins had grabbed a hold of his jacket, looking obviously worried that this man would discover them. The other arm not being held onto, had gone to his hip where his revolver thankfully was. But he had to wonder, what good would it do against this new technology? The gun was obviously quite outdated, but at least it was something. But it seemed he didn’t have to worry about it yet, as the man looked away.

”I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

”Don’t lie!” Snarled the man who had been looking around, ”You know how the Dark Lord hates liars… Perhaps we should bring you to him!”

Obviously, this threat was much greater than death, as the older man looked ready to cry, ”Please! No! I’m not lying, I swear!”

Regardless of his previous thoughts, Holmes opened the spell book in his hands, his eyes going to the spell ‘stupfy’. He glanced at Mary meaningfully, hopeing to gather from her reaction what she thought. After all, he wasn’t sure if he had a skill in this ‘spell’ business, but she did. Would she be able to knock those two ruffians out without being revealed?

[Mary Poppins]

“But of course, why else would you enter a book store except to find a book?”

With all his faults, Mr Holmes had a sense of humour and Mary was glad of it. While she often maintained a clenched disdain for the world, one could often see the upturn of a quiet grin on her face at some amusement or other. It was glad that she and her new companion had this, at least, in common.

The scene before them began to unravel fast and the owner of the store was dragged before the two intruders and questioned. Mary sensed that Mr Holmes was poised to act, but equally cautious as to the outcome. She felt that something ought to be done. How to do it, though? That was the thing.

”Don’t lie! You know how the Dark Lord hates liars… Perhaps we should bring you to him!”

The Dark Lord? The Cloak and Dagger imagery continued, but with much less levity. The mention of this ‘Dark Lord’ brought forth panic and fear in the eyes of this poor man. Mary frowned. She intently disliked a bully, whether politician or obsessive, delusional egomaniac. Abuse was never acceptable, most certainly not in the business of raising children and, she had hoped that 84 years into the future, not in any world at all. Then again, she had to concede that adults were largely incapable of thinking clearly and it was, sadly, not surprising to her. Her grip on Mr Holmes’s sleeve tightened once more as her anger grew. She bit the inside of her lip.

”Please! No! I’m not lying, I swear!”

His cries earned him no apparent sympathy. Just then, Mr Holmes caught Mary’s attention as he held the spell book open before her. She looked at it, frowning at first, unsure what he was implying. A closer look made a clear suggestion. She looked up at him, surprised that this would be his solution. Then, turning back to the men interrogating the owner, she quickly began to weigh the thought more carefully.

Stealing a hat was child’s play. This could have a range of incalculable consequences, not to mention effect the future in a way that so worried Holmes. The taller, hooded man raised his wand higher. His voice was menacing.

”Tell us where it is Grifkin.” Grifkin’s face went rigid and Mary knew that, if they did not act soon, something unspeakable would happen. She hesitated only for a second, unable to properly formulate a plan, as the man began to speak again.

”Cruc-”

”Stupefy!” Mary yelled and the wand-bearer flew back against some nearby bookcases. His companion spun around immediately, leveling his wand in their direction. His eyes narrowed as he searched for his perpetrator between the books, giving up in seconds and choosing a more lasting response. A lady never ‘ducks’, but, a little wide-eyed, Mary tried to avoid what would happen next.

“Reducto!” the other yelled in the general direction whence he had heard the spell, appearing to aim at no one in particular. The blast that followed forced the bookcase behind which the pair had previously been hidden, violently backward. Mary felt solid wood painfully collide with her as books flew in all directions. The floor rose up to meet her and she barely had time to cover her face. She hit the floorboards hard. The world seemed to spin for a second before she could focus once again.

She crawled quickly out from underneath the bookcase, which had thankfully been prevented from crushing her by a nearby table that held it partially up. She was very much aware that the intruder was still searching the room for his opponent. She shuffled to another nearby bookcase that still stood and hid with her back to it. She listened for any further activity, suddenly wondering how Mr Holmes had fared. She was annoyed at herself. The last time she had been in a situation like this had been that occasion in the Palazzo in Venice. She did so hate it when things got unnecessarily muddled.

[Sherlock Holmes]

As the man was yelled at and taunted by the cloaked fellows, Sherlock noticed that the hand on his sleeve had tightened. Though this time not out of fear of being spotted, but anger. Yes, it seemed Mary Poppins did not like seeing others abused. It did fit in with her character, being one who was supposed to bring up children with moral values.

It soon became clear, by the way the man raised his weapon that was called a ‘wand’, and the way Grifkin seemed to tighten up, that something would happen. Grifkin looked as a man did when a gun was being pointed at him with the purpose of firing. Hopefully, the nanny would choose to act quickly….

”Stupefy!”

The detective watched as the words seemed to do the trick, causing the armed man to fly back. But his companion was still standing, taking out his own wand and staring viciously toward their direction. He watched as Mary ducked, but Holmes dropped down, sliding back, and kicked a nearby desk right behind the magical nanny just as the man uttered his counter curse.

“Reducto!”

The bookcase came down, but thankfully Sherlock moved his legs away just in time before they were crushed. The desk did its job, stopping the case from falling and making the woman into a nanny-pancake.

However, Sherlock kept moving, going to the right into a new isle of cases. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the nanny move in the opposite direction. Other than looking slightly flustered, she didn’t look any worse for wear. Which was good, as he would never hear the end of it if one hair on her head had been hurt.

Sherlock took out his hand gun, cocking back the hammer as silently as he could, and maneuvering around the cases until he had a clear sight of what was going on. Grifkin had fled, running out of his store like the devil was after him. The remaining man had other ideas, wand held high, and walking toward Mary’s bookcase.

”Where are you? Show yourself, before I blast this whole place sky-high!” He snarled, shooting another curse at a bookcase that was quite close to where Mary was hiding.

Though he found the pun amusing (as he highly doubted that the spell he was using could blast something to the atmosphere), Sherlock knew that Mary was directly in harms way. Another bookcase, and she would be discovered.

Making the decision, Sherlock aimed his gun at the man between two books, and fired off a round. The gun made a large crack noise, which man the man turn about. And so, Holmes missed his initial mark. Instead of the bullet hitting the man’s chest, it hit his shoulder and went right through.

The man let out a cry of pain, raising his wand toward Sherlock’s bookcase and letting off another curse. However, Sherlock perceived this, and rolled into another isle quickly, pulling back on the trigger of his gun again. Hopefully, Miss. Poppins would recover enough to perhaps use another stupefy curse. Even as the detective watched from his hiding place, the man had raised his wand, muttering words that closed and healed the bleeding wound. Well, this was a rather dim situation….

[Mary Poppins]

The shift from slightly flustered to determinedly annoyed did not take long. As Mary hastily adjusted some loose strands of hair that had fallen free with the loss of Mr Holmes’s hat, her face hardened somewhat and her lips pursed, almost of their own accord, to show her deep agitation. It was reserved for both herself, for her having upset the hornet’s nest, and her pursuer, who seemed intent still on clumsily taking down the entire establishment to rid himself of her. Honestly, people are always inclined to complicate things that are really quite simple. She looked momentarily around, trying to spot Holmes again.

She caught sight of him a few aisles across the way. He had dashed to the opposite side of the store, which would definitely be to their advantage in confusing their opponent. Of course, it was also possible that such a variation might force him to take even more drastic measures. Mary decided that she would rather avoid such an outcome. Sherlock raised his pistol, cocking it quietly. Mary was immediately skeptical as to the effectiveness of this weapon against their cloak and dagger friend. Still, it could not hurt to have the weapon on their side.

”Where are you? Show yourself, before I blast this whole place sky-high!”

A child’s threat. Mary opened her mouth to give a crisply-delivered retort, when a set of books right near her head shot off the shelf in the blast of his next curse, forcing her to cover her head. While he had hit the shelf before her, it was a little too close for comfort. She absolutely detested being made to feel uncomfortable. She glared in his direction, now totally put out. She turned, ready to act, when she heard a violent crack from across the room. Sherlock Holmes was coming to her aid. She watched as the man stumbled backward with the force to his shoulder and cried out with the pain.

In quick succession, however, he raised his wand and let a curse off in Sherlock’s direction. The detective responded immediately, rolling out of harm’s way and firing another round. The bullet hit a nearby shelf, but Mary made sure she could make appropriate use of the man’s distraction. Before she could act, she noted his use of a healing technique and she was forced to reevaluate him momentarily. He could not be the Neanderthal she had taken him for. Something needed to be done, and swiftly, if she and Mr Holmes were to come out of this debacle unscathed. She needed to make use of something a little more effective than these vocally issued attacks. Besides, their were far more inventive ways to nullify attackers.

Seizing the opportunity his healing occasioned, she popped out from behind the shelf and summoned an older technique that she found to be most versatile. The man spun around when he saw her emerge and smiled a grim smile.

”There you are,” was all he said. Mary smiled warmly back before raising her right hand and, with all the ceremony of welcoming a royal, she clicked her thumb against her middle finger. With that, all of the surrounding books that lay at his feet sprung up from the floor and began to pelt themselves at him mercilessly, their pages waving in frenzy about him. He screamed; raising his hands to his face to protect against the savage paper cuts he would no-doubt receive.

He began haphazardly flinging curses at the books that swarmed around his head, the spells redirecting in all directions. Satisfied as a cat with cream, Mary lightly stepped behind some nearby bookcases to guard against his now unguided attacks. She spotted Mr Holmes a little way down the aisle and could not help but smirk at him. With a little finesse, this might actually be quite diverting.

[Tiger Lily]

Tiger Lily knelt at a cool rushing stream that wound through the midst of the trees. Tadpoles swarmed below her, and as the Princess gathered water in her cupped hands to cool her cheeks, they merely nuzzled her fingers. All docile animals in this land knew of Princess Tiger Lily, and she was loved by them. Toads croaked the hour for her to keep track of time. Owls flew down to her in the dead of night to whispers secrets in her ear.

The young maiden was adorned in her traditional garb. Dark braids wound with strips of leather and feathers fell on each side of her shoulders. Tiger Lily took a deep breath as she allowed the tranquil relief of the cool stream water to drip from her chin. Now, she stood rather more quickly then most would think possible, grasping a longbow from the nearby ground where it had been deposited. Tiger Lily's eyes flew to the tracks of her prey, pressed in to the muddy banks of the stream's shore to her right.

Easily enough, Tiger Lily spotted similar markings on the opposite side of the water, though it was a great many feet in girth. With a stern satisfaction, Tiger Lily crouched slightly, muscles coiling in anticipation. Most would suppose it a fool's effort to try and clear this distance without a running start to build up momentum. As soon as the native american princess eased in to the half-crouch she sprung from it.

With a graceful leap, Tiger Lily embarked on a long arching journey through the air over the rushing stream. Her arms flew out to the sides, and Tiger Lily felt the spirit of the eagles flood her soul. Face upturned to enjoy this moment of ecstasy before her feet touched the ground and once more Tiger Lily would be utterly human. WOOSH! Light flared against the huntress's closed eyelids, severing all contact she had been having with the spirits.

When Tiger Lily opened her eyes, still in the very middle of her airborne leap, time appeared to instantly slow... Tall cliffs of various stone rose up around her, but they were foreign and frightening. Their edges were completely even and smooth, with countless odd cave openings in them. Strange ground, as if made from stone and mortar, stretched beneath Tiger Lily and man of all shapes and sizes appeared on two embankments on either side, rushing in both directions wearing things that Tiger Lily found scarily alien.

Odd black trees rose up, their limbs holding some kind of strange lantern where miniature suns of emerald, maroon and gold shone bright! That was not the most frightening occurrence, however... The most frightening thing was when a great and ferocious beast, with man in its mouth already, dropped down beside her in this moment of frozen time, paused mid-charge. Tiger Lily's breath caught in her lungs as she watched time slowly gain forward momentum once again while light receded in to the bleak heavens.

At once her instinct seared to life, and Tiger Lily lunged out from the roaring monster's wake at the very last instant. She rolled agilely on to the embankment that held so many rushing man. None even spared her a glance. Tiger Lily's heart was beating like a humming bird's wing, and she pressed herself against the nearest cliff wall. Panes of ice stretched behind Tiger Lily, and she could see through them a small and smoky chamber... But it was empty... She could not stay out here any longer, more beasts could be seen roaring through the small crevice in the center of this chasm.

Tiger Lily passed silently through the door of the establishment and looked around, longbow still in hand. She crouched low to avoid detection... No one was there... No one save a toothless man rubbing a canister of ice with a small animal pelt. Tiger Lily slid through the shadows, somehow not making a single floorboard creek. Over the distant roar of the fire, Tiger Lily easily made it to the farthest wall of this strange cave. Just then, however, the entrance that she'd just came through opened to admit a small group of even more strangely dress man.

Tiger Lily pressed her back against the wall... for it only to give way and admit her to a small area closed in on all sides by high walls of stone. Her heart beat faster. Tiger Lily was still half-crouched, looking around with an alarmed panic. Rumble. She turned to perceive one of the stone walls giving way, the stones themselves possessed by some spirit as they wriggled and wormed their ways to create a new passage. From this passage another group of strangely dressed man oozed out and headed toward the smoky cave Tiger Lily had just vacated...

But Tiger Lily was nowhere to be seen! And just as the strange living passage began to close, one could see the shape of Tiger Lily running like a gazelle down the center of the vacated alleyway beyond... If only they'd been looking. Tiger Lily's feet carried her to the edge of this strange new crevice, dark and sinister as it was. She managed to find a small niche draped in shadow in which to hide, by some lucky chance. Tiger Lily crouched low and breathed in heavy, shaking breaths.

It took all of her control to cease a flood of panic and hysteria. What was this strange place? Why was she here? Had the spirits of the eagles taken her away from Neverland to this horrible place for a reason? Tiger Lily grasped this thought with a stern will and allowed it to fill her up. There was a reason that she had been placed here. The spirits would not have done something so peculiar just for Tiger Lily to die and join them. SHATTER!

Tiger Lily's head snapped to attention at the noise. It was coming from the cave just beside her, and she could hear the voices of man... and one woman! Tiger Lily stayed low to the ground and sneaked with such pristine invisibility a passing wizard did not even take notice of her. Slowly, Tiger Lily peeked through the bottommost pane of ice in to the cave... Only to have the breath knocked out of her once again!

Conversation held for only a minute, and what Tiger Lily heard from the tones made her naturally favor the woman and her hunting companion. She sounded just like Tiger Lily's mother, Falling Water. This talking did not hold though. Soon a fight had broken out. Tiger Lily might not have known what strange weapons the two dark men were brandishing, which appeared to be only sticks yet unleashed the power of the spirits. But she recognized the small thing the man allied with the woman had... A gun.

Tiger Lily knew that the two dark mens must be black sorcerers. Devil-summoners! It was the only explanation! It seemed as if the woman's hunting companion was a more noble sort, the way he fought and made sure to protect the woman. Tiger Lily was astonished, though, when that same woman that she so readily liked, stepped forward, snapped her fingers and caused the surrounding tomes to gain life! Tiger Lily's confusion was for but a moment before she agreed - this woman must be a white sorceress. A spirit-speaker!

Alas, Tiger Lily's perceptive eyes saw how the odds were clearly set in these dark magician's favor. What should she do?! ... The decision came quickly, as if placed there by her ancestors. Fight. Almost before this decision was made, Tiger Lily had an arrow poised on her longbow and was already pulling back the string. Woosh! Thock! An arrow sprouted from the shoulder of the one assaulting the woman, just as the dark sorcerer caused all of the books attacking him to disappear altogether.

Tiger Lily forced herself not to be caught off guard. By the time that the dark sorcerer had yelled and looked at his new wound... Tiger Lily was upon him! Her leg smeared through the air with incredible speed, hitting the demon-summoner's arm with a resounding crack! The stick that was his weapon sailed in to the air, flying to land on the ground with a clatter beside the strange wooden furnishing that the white witch was hiding behind.

The man tried to fight back, though his forearm was fractured and the arrow had bitten deep between his ribs. Tiger Lily dodged his first round of clumsy punches and slipped smoothly behind his guard. With a flurry of motions, she delivered countless strategic blows to his torso. The dark wizard stumbled backward, and Tiger Lily jumped in to the air with a great whirling motion. Crack! Her leg had come out and connected soundly with the man's jaw, sending him to his knees. Tiger Lily stepped forward and delivered a powerful chop with her flat hand to the demon-whisperer's neck... He fell to the floor...

[Sherlock Holmes]

Sherlock watched with some dread as Mary moved from behind her hiding place, standing only a mere foot away from the villain. The detective was too far away to do anything, and even his gun had proven ineffective. Hopefully the nanny had a plan to go along with this seemingly reckless action…

”There you are,”

Apparently she did not disappoint, for the moment this man said this, she raised her hands and snapped her fingers. Low and behold, the woman held power that didn’t need to be expressed with words. Sherlock smirked slightly as the man was suddenly pelted by books after books. The written word was mightier than the sword (or wand) after all.

However, when she moved to hide again, his attention was no longer on the magical woman. Instead, he caught a distinct sound of an arrow being loosed from a bow, just as the man had waved his wand to rid himself of the distraction of the books. A arrow was now lodged in the meat of his shoulder area, cutting cleanly through.

Just as surprised as Sherlock was, the man let out a cry and stared at his wound. But unlike the man, Sherlock viewed the newcomer enter at incredible speed, bringing down the man with a quick series of movements. The detective found each one passing through his mind as if he himself was doing it. Heel-kick to wrist, causing release of weapon. Dodge weak jab, left to floating ribs. Fracture ribs, then break. Flying kick to left jaw, then finish with a slap to the central nervous point of the neck, causing unconsciousness of victim.

When all was over, Sherlock moved cautiously around the bookcase to view their savoir, though he had an idea of the culture and background of said person. And he was not disappointed. Standing in front of him was a Native American woman. Though she was young, only 18, she exhibited all the indications that she had been trained from birth to be a warrior and hunter among her tribe.

What tribe that was, Sherlock had yet to deduct. He himself had only met a member of the Mohawk Tribe from Southern Canada before. Perhaps she was of the Plain Tribes, those that hunt Bison on the relatively unknown land in the western United States. It would explain her hunting ability. If she could take down a full grown bison, she would be able to take down a full grown man with ease.

Carefully, he pocketed his weapon, and approached with hands held up to show he was unarmed. There was a reason for his caution: the Mohawk Native American had told him about the general dislike that all tribes felt toward the ‘pale faces’ that had pushed them from their land and killed their food. Sherlock himself sympathized, but there was no way that this woman would know that.

It didn’t help that he didn’t know her language (for the different tribes held different languages). “Do you understand me?” He didn’t say it slow or in any way demining. In fact, it was a very respectful tone, though careful. The last thing he needed was an arrow though the head because she thought he was being rude.

“Thank you for saving us, that was quite impressive.” He couldn’t help the smile on his face. It was very impressive, he would have to ask about her hunting style later though. “But I’m afraid we don’t have much time…” He looked behind him to Mary Poppins, “We’d better get out of here, Miss. Poppins, before his fellows start looking for him.”

[Mary Poppins]

Once Mary had unleashed her literary barrage on their attacker, events proved rather fast-paced and it took Mary a moment to register what had happened. Her retreat to a marginally safer bookcase was accompanied by an odd, but not altogether unfamiliar sound as a projectile flew threw the air and caught the wizard by surprise. Mary had spent some time abroad, though she never shared her travels with anyone, and had come across every manner of indigenous people. The Americas, not to mentions some other less earthly places, was home to a particular noble people to whom Mary had taken an immense liking, despite their rather odd mode of dress.

The sound she had just heard reminded her of another such sound in a place she had frequented in her younger years. It was the sound of a longbow discharging its contents and, as long as it was aimed at an unsavory sort, Mary was all for it. She spun from behind the case in time to see a flash of tan and a flurry of well-informed attacks.

The exciting new addition to her and Mr Holmes’s predicament was accompanied by the clatter of the object that had begun all the fuss. With a dexterous swoop that was almost balletic, Mary rescued the implement from the floor. Yes, twelve inches of birch wood. She had no doubt it contained something unusual inside. Something like, Dragon Heartstring. Although, she would never admit to the existence of dragons around poor, rational Mr Holmes. It might send him rather over the edge. No, such revelations were best reserved for the smaller genus of human being.

Her inspection of what she was now certain was some kind of magic wand was only half so impressive as what she witnessed next. As she looked up, she noted that a young woman was standing over the wizard, who was most definitely indisposed. Unconscious as he was, Mary was certain that he would pose no further threat. She had been so engrossed in her own observation, that she had missed the display. She looked up at the newcomer, no doubt that this young woman had made all the difference and smiled broadly at her, her eyes somewhat bright with admiration. She had most certainly come from the isle of Never… Mary stopped, remembering herself. Her face returned to its usual controlled self.

Holmes approached from his hiding place, putting away his weapon and taking in the new addition. Mary could almost see his logical mind going to work as he appraised the situation. Mary was sure he would never understand whence this woman had come, but he was certainly more civilized than many of her fellow Englishmen, of whom she had been violently ashamed to be honest.

“Do you understand me?”

Straight to the point. Of course, that seemed to be the way it was with Mr Holmes. It was clear to Mary that she must be of the Piccanniny tribe and whilst some of them spoke broken English, she was not sure if this young woman would. Mr Holmes continued anyway.

“Thank you for saving us, that was quite impressive.”

”We are indebted to you,” Mary added, showing just a hint of the fondness she felt at seeing a resident of a place so close to her heart. Of course, she would never admit to the existence of that either. But Holmes seemed unlikely to continue to chat, his slightly brusque manner moving almost instantaneaously on.

“But I’m afraid we don’t have much time…” He turned his attention towards Mary. “We’d better get out of here, Miss. Poppins, before his fellows start looking for him.”

”You may be right, Mr Holmes,” Mary began, somewhat unsure that leaving these men in the abandoned bookstore would be the best option. After all, they had come here to do harm to the owner, ”but what are we to do about poor Mr Grifkin?” The men would no doubt continue their search for whatever it was they were looking for, not to mention the fact that ‘The Dark Lord’ sounded like someone who might employ the help of many men. They had to learn more. Mary held up the wand in her hand.

”Perhaps this could help us?”

She turned to look at the young woman. She was, relatively speaking, wearing next to nothing and Mary was certain that she must be freezing in this weather. In winter, England was far more chilly than… she turned to Sherlock, noting his rolled up coat and sleeves.

”Mr Holmes, would you be so kind as to give this young woman your coat?” it was not really a request. She looked at the young woman kindly, feeling every instinct to protect her. It was an irrational emotion, having seen her interaction with the wizard, however, to Mary Poppins, everyone was in need of some special care.

[Tiger Lily]

The princess ceased her artful sequence of movements with the same grace in which she had completed them. Like a ballerina ending her recital with a dip of their head. Tiger Lily somehow managed to appear like a swan dipping their head gracefully in the same instant that she personified a panther relaxing after the pounce. The rigid strength in the young woman's position spoke volumes of the training and discipline that had built the formidable force that she was now. In truth, Tiger Lily had learned to watch the large host of exotic and fantastical animals residing in Neverland and mimic them.

Whether due to her people's connection with nature or some higher ability, Tiger Lily had managed to meld the ferocity of the bear with the swift agility of the does in a cohesive manner. Images of training with her father danced unwillingly through the princess's head. The Chief had admired in an amusedly cheerful way how Tiger Lily was 'like the fluidity of the stream with the force of the falling water'. Now the native american maiden paused in her motion and eased slowly and cautiously from the stance.

The man allied with the kindly woman rendered his own opponent unconscious and there was a moment of absolute silence in the strange cave as dust filtered down, their motes visible in shafts of pale, unforgiving sunlight. Everything was so much colder here... Not just in the sense of temperature. The world seemed dead around Tiger Lily in comparison to the lifestyle she was born to live. Despite all these pleasantries that surrounded these strange pale-faced people, they could not even enjoy the bounty of nature?

Looking back on it, Tiger Lily noted that not once since she had found herself in this strange and frightening world had she witnessed a single emerald leaf or colorful petal. No wonder Tiger Lily felt so lost and alone, not even the gifts of the earth were there to comfort her. Just these strange and hostile people, one of which lay unconscious and broken before her. No better then the awful pirates who terrorized her land and people. The anger that kindled within Tiger Lily was forced to extinguish as her attention moved on to more pressing matters.

The couple who she had decided to assist were now attempt to converse with Tiger Lily. Now the princess was presented with a golden opportunity. And though she had learned to speak English very well from Peter, her silent nature made it all the more difficult to respond. Another image was conjured unbidden in the minds eye of the maiden. Neverland, laying in all its beauty, her people without a princess and rightful heir to the tribe. At once Tiger Lily decided that for the sake of her people, she would have to act more bluntly then was usual for her.

The man put away the weapon that the Pirates used and held his hands up in a symbol of surrender and peace. Tiger Lily pondered whether or not to take the act as genuine or declare it false and untrue. "Yes," was her blunt and slightly questioning reply to the initial request. Then was the man came forth and offered his thanks. Immediately all of Tiger Lily's more pressing urges to be cautious concerning the stranger evaporated - though not all. None of the Pirates would ever offer their thanks to Tiger Lily. If she had saved them from the maw of the Crocodile himself, they would try all the more to throw her in to it.

No sooner had these thanks been tenderly rewarded, then the man hurried along in to a series of thoughts that made less sense - though still held some - to Tiger Lily. In the wake of this sudden spurt of English came the woman, however, and with her was a smell of cherries and the warmth of a winter fire. Her tone was as soft as the freshly fallen snow, though there was a strict and unbending center to it as sturdy as the sycamore. Though Tiger Lily did not understand the word that this woman used, she could decipher by the way that she spoke them it was another form of thanks. Again, however, just as the Native American princess began to form words in the two's own tongue to respond, they hurried on to other subjects.

Perhaps this was why there were no dressings of the earth to be seen in this horrid place? Everyone was in too much of a rush to pause and admire these things for them to be of any use procuring. Despite these harsher thoughts Tiger Lily had to scorn herself. These odd dark magicians they had just defeated would most likely have allies, perhaps even more powerful still. It seemed like every time you defeated a Pirate in Neverland the one was replaced by three more who were far more formidable in themselves. It was only when the kindly woman named 'Poppins' insisted the man called 'Holmes' give away his coat that the maiden knew she could enter the discussion. "I am fine," she assured, "my blood is warm, and my clothes are strong."

[/justify]

[Sherlock Holmes]

The Native American held the same silent nature as most of her tribal cousins. She held an intensity in her eyes that demanded respect, signifying that she wasn’t just any squaw among her people. Sherlock wouldn’t be surprised if she was the daughter of the chief. When he heard that she understood his words, he felt relief. Some good news in a world of bad news.

Poppins’ was also extending her thanks, he noted a fond tone in the nanny. He did not impress upon it, but made he way to the unconscious man. Calmly taking the man’s pulse, he noted that he was indeed still alive. However, as he held the left wrist, something caught his eye. Calmly unbuttoning the sleeve and pulling it back, he noticed the strange tattoo upon his arm. A skull, with a snake wrapped around it. The snake moved on it’s own accord, as if agitated to be inscribed on skin. He inferred that the other man held the same mark, that it was a gang-symbol of sorts.

”You may be right, Mr Holmes, but what are we to do about poor Mr Grifkin?”

“What do you intend we do? Go out there in the middle of the street and call his name?” Holmes raised his eyebrow at Mary, “He ran for it, and a good thing he did too. Hopefully, he will find himself a secure place to stay, or find protection under the right authorities. We are in a much worse spot than he, Miss. Poppins. We don’t even fully understand where we are or how we got here.”

It was indeed a shame about Mr. Grifkin, but this wasn’t their problem. Sherlock would know what to do if he was in his own time, but this wasn’t his time. And now, they had gotten themselves mixed into some sort of gang-war. He sighed, “Well, what do we know? They came in looking for a novel, one that Grifkin claimed to not own.” He gestured around him, at the hundreds of books. “So, where would you find a book that someone wants to keep hidden?”

”Perhaps this could help us?”

“You would be the expert on that particular article. Or at least, know more of it than I.” Sherlock stated calmly, standing as he gazed upon the sliver of wood. He would like to study it further after all of this was said and done. It was an extraordinary weapon and tool used in this future-world.

”Mr Holmes, would you be so kind as to give this young woman your coat?”

"I am fine, my blood is warm, and my clothes are strong."

Sherlock blinked, suddenly brought out of his musings by the reminder that another had joined their strange little band. He calmly shrugged off his coat, feeling slightly uncomfortable. He had never been very able to get along with women-kind. (In fact, Watson said he had an aversion to them). And here he was, charged with the care of a strange sorceress from 1910, and a Native America warrior, barely into adulthood. It was a sobering fact.

Sherlock handed his coat to the girl anyway, making sure to take his pipe and gun out of the pockets and disposing them into his trousers. “What is your name?” He asked calmly, running his hands through his hair.