EXPEDITION: An Unmatched Fanfiction

Chapter Thirteen: Elementary

King Arthur did not remember much else of the night due to his exhaustion. He remembered being led to a building by the magnanimous Sherlock Holmes and lying down on a makeshift bed formed from old blankets. At that point, he was so fatigued that he was asleep before his head laid to rest.

When he awoke in the morning, he fully regained his senses and was able to observe this new location. He found himself in an incredibly cozy office. There were a couple windows that allowed for large rays of sun to seep in and liven the room up, but there were thick curtains that blocked most of this light from entering. Most of the room's illumination came from an array of lamps instead. Much like the streetlights, King Arthur was immediately fascinated by these fixtures, since they appeared to give off more light than a candle or lantern without the use of a wick. Still, there were more items within his surroundings that grabbed his attention. The room was crowded with large bookshelves, overflowing with rows and rows of books. The binding on most of them was old and torn, most likely from years of aggressive use. There was a large desk towards the center, stacked to the brim with unorganized mounds of papers. In front of this desk sat two large, plush chairs, inviting any weary soul to sit down and unload their burdens. A brick fireplace was built into one of the walls, housing several blackened logs. A vast collection of trinkets and other objects filled in the rest of the space, but despite the office's cluttered interior, it provided a comfortable atmosphere. Even though the room was full of futuristic gadgets Arthur's mind could barely comprehend, the office's homey aura made him feel welcome, and he momentarily forgot the treachery of his strange adventure.

He only again recollected the nature of his current state when he noticed Sherlock Holmes sitting behind the desk. He loosely held his pipe in his mouth, staring into the distance as his mind raced with a million intersecting thoughts. It took him a few seconds to notice King Arthur stirring.

"Ah, you're awake!" Sherlock Holmes exclaimed, jumping from his chair with the giddy energy of a young boy. "You were in quite the slumber there, I was wondering if you would ever rise."

Arthur stood and took another survey of the room as Holmes left from behind his desk to approach his royal visitor. "I have a colleague coming to see you soon, but do whatever you must to make yourself comfortable in the meantime."

"A colleague?" King Arthur questioned.

"Indeed, a colleague. Well, that word first came about in the 1500s, did it not? You would not know of such terms. He is a friend, then! Yes, a dear old friend. One whom inexplicably loves to write of my cases, so I am certain he will find many words to compose after one look at you!"

"I appreciate your kindness, Mr. Holmes. It shows extraordinary generosity for you to open your office to my tired bones as you have, but I insist we must not wait another second to leave. As I stated before, there is a dangerous evil--the source, as it is called--that is to bring destruction upon my lands. I must find it and extinguish it at once!"

"You are not going to find your answer right outside this door, your majesty," Sherlock Holmes politely rebutted. "Do you know what this source is?" King Arthur was silent. "Then we must investigate before we run in with swords drawn."

King Arthur sighed. "You are correct, good sir. A strategy is needed. I am so baffled by all which surrounds me that I forget the basics of being a noble warrior."

Suddenly, there was a knock. A grin spread across Holmes's face as he shouted "Come in!" The door opened and in walked a man donning a well-groomed moustache and perfectly positioned bowling hat. His clothes were similar to those of Holmes, with a long Inverness coat on top of a neatly pressed shirt and tie. When he entered, he grew a shocked expression.

"My apologies, I did not know you were with a client."

"Nonsense, Watson, you know you are always welcome here!" Sherlock greeted, putting his arm warmly around the man's shoulder and walking him into the room. "Furthermore, this is not a client of mine, though I am sure it is someone you know."

Watson stared at King Arthur, slowly analyzing his attire which was ill-fitting for the times. A thousand assumptions crossed Watson's eyes as he studied the strange figure in front of him, but unlike Holmes, his skills of deduction were not as great. "Holmes, are you saying I have met this man before? Oh, where are my manners, my name is Dr. Watson. Glad to make your acquaintance."

"I would say," Holmes chimed in, "if you had met this man before, I would question your grasp on reality."

Watson gave another lookover to Arthur before relenting. "I must apologize again, I feel terrible for not knowing who you are, as it seems to be something I should know."

King Arthur opened his mouth to tell him who he was, but was interrupted by Holmes's continued goading. "Come now, Watson, use your observational skills. Look at what he wears, what he carries with him, how he holds himself." Holmes walked to one of his many shelves and pulled out a book labeled "Y Goddodin." "I think this may help."

Watson took the book from Holmes and studied it for a few seconds before showing a perplexed countenance. "Well, based on what this man appears to be wearing, I would assume he is some travelling actor playing the role of King Arthur."

"A good guess, but this man is no actor. He is King Arthur himself!"

Watson chortled, "Holmes, I know you to be a man of great intelligence, but I think you may be off the mark on this one."

"I know it may seem hard to believe, but think about all the strange sightings we have been discussing recently. King Arthur knew of these strange occurrences before I even mentioned it, as his presence here is the product of these mysterious forces at play." Watson shuffled, still reluctant to believe Holmes's farfetched conclusion. "I can prove it: ask him anything of note that has happened in the past seven hundred years. I guarantee on my practice that he will not know an inkling of what you are saying."

"I may not be from this land, but do not insult my intelligence!" King Arthur butted in, but Watson was already too busy with thinking of questions to prove Holmes's claim.

"When was the Sistine Chapel built?" Watson questioned.

"The what?"

"When did King Henry the VIII take the throne?"

"There's been eight of them?"

"Who won the American War of Independence?"

"Who is America?"

Watson turned to Holmes. "Well, I have not met anyone with less of a base knowledge of history than this man."

"Now, now!" King Arthur exclaimed. "Has everyone forgotten how to talk to a king with respect?"

"It is not the king's fault," Holmes addressed Watson. "There is some strange magic that brought him into the future, he has not experienced any of these events yet."

"Magic, you say?" Watson asked. "Then this is some sort of illusionary power?"

"No, I fear it is much more than that," Sherlock answered. "Like I stated before, the beastly sightings across these lands suggest something sinister is afoot, and the true King Arthur's existence here shows there is some sort of alchemy at play."

"That is certainly beyond our scope!" Watson proclaimed.

"If it is of any help," King Arthur said, "I was sailing eastward from England when I was transported here. If I can get myself back in that position, it is likely I can find the source and smother this madness."

"I doubt that is likely," Holmes retorted. "You were brought here for a reason, to be cast away from whatever this 'source' is. I assume you were getting close to your end goal, but the enemy controlling this source needed get you away from it permanently."

"Are you suggesting we have to travel through time to fix this?" Watson inquired. "We cannot do that!"

"We cannot," Holmes said, "but I think I know someone who can."