My name is Sherrienna Holmes and, though I realize this statement might be too much for your average minds, I am not from this dimension. I come from a place where Sherlock Holmes and John Watson do not exist. Unlike how men have been the governing force in this dimension, women are superior in mine. Females are held as far more intelligent than males and, as such, wars are resolved in a rational manner rather than by blowing the world to smithereens. 

One day, a crack appeared on my bedroom wall, radiating a bright white light. Ever the knowledge seeker, I attempted to touch the fissure. I was instantly transported to this place. Not only that, I was delivered to the bedroom of Sherlock Holmes. And to top it all off, I was only wearing a sheet. 

The trigger happy Holmes pulled a gun on me and led me into his living space at gunpoint. Once there, I met this dimension's version of my flat mate, Joanna Watson, the uncomprehending John Watson. 

Naturally, the men wanted me to give them an explanation, which was difficult considering I barely knew what had happened myself. However, when an elderly woman came in and saw me, still clad in my satin sheet, the interrogation ended and I was led downstairs to a separate apartment. The woman, Mrs. Hudson, was - and continues to be - my saving grace. She brings a dose of sanity to the world of Sherlock Holmes, however unintelligent she is.

Currently, I am living in John's old room in 221b since he left to live with his new wife, Mary. I haven't found a way to return to my dimension, nor have I heard anything from Joanna. I do hope everything is okay.