#I am twitching around like a crazed lunatic over here

[forget-me-not-automaton]

Sometimes you love a thing so much that when you see it the happy stims are SO intense that they feel like convulsions-

[fictionfrend]

SHERLOCK HOLMES AND MORIATY: A GAME OF CHESS OF TWO HALFS CHAPTER THREE: FACING AND RUNNING TO THE FUTURE

So, to it! Our great foe had slipped us yet again, and was no taunting us further. It was intolerable. But what could we do? I was at a complete loss and almost crying. Not so, brave Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes strode over to a writing desk and quickly scrawled out three letters. He folded them into manilla envelopes with meticulous care, and gave them each a wax seal with a bee on it. (Yes, a bee!) He strode back to Lestrade, and handed them to him. “This” he said “is for Mycroft. He's my very own 'dear' brother, as you know. Slower than me, but he has some uses. Pay him no heed if he's tries his riddles on you” I chuckled at this wry joke, as I'd seen them bicker and banter at each other many times over the last few years. So often. “This” he said ”you should give to Joe Scroggins. You'll find him at the junction of West Street and East Lane.” Who was the man Joe Scroggins? I'd never come across the chap, but felt the thrill of anticipation and adventure. “This” he said “you should give to the secretary of Whitechapel's postal service. He'll pass it on for you to its destination, no questions asked. I can't reveal all my sources in this card game.” Something was up, something big. My moustache twitched in anticipation and my glasses nearly almost fell off my face.

Their office work done, the detectives strode out of the room, stopping only briefly for Holmes to move the rook two spaces to the left in a brilliantly defensive manner, and down the corridor once more to their next meeting. This would be a fateful and long overdue confrontation. They bounded into the coach and jumped fast down the street, Sherlock Holmes shouting and crying the horses faster and faster and faster. They were late! Always late, even when they were one step ahead of the crime. At last, after an hour of gruelling riding, they smashed straight into the docklands region of London. It was even more foggy here, like thick glass, so they slowed to a creep amongst the boats and ships, and packs of fish and smuggled rum and snuff boxes and imported gems and furs and pickles and spices and tea. The detective gave it no look, while Doctor (Dr) Watson couldn't resist gazing in disbelief at the crazy ramshackle wonders piled like offerings, and the rough sailors and dock workers scrambling over them like ants. But there was no time to stroll, as suddenly Holmes saw a crime and had to stop it before they could continue. He ran over to an ally with his arms pumping and dived in head and hands first. The good doctor heard a skuffle and ran over as fast as he could. He was out of breath by the time he got there, and peered in to see the last of Holmes punching a rough looking man in the stomach with harsh precision while pinning him against a wall with the other iron hard fist. It was brutal and it was very soon indeed, while I comforted his victim as best I could. I applied some medicine and some kind words. “Next time, pick on a DETECTIVE with skills not a civilian!” he cried with triumph, and once it was over we carried on creeping to our destination. The criminal just lay there and regretted what he'd done.

Finally, they arrived where they should be. This was the beating heart of the docklands, where all the best deals happened. Very fitting this was, as our two heroes were about to make the deal of their very lives. Of their future and our past. Right there on the muddy shore, under a pier and a jetty the fate of London was decided. The merest whisper gave him away. Who? The man they couldn't see. The man who was invisible. The invisible man himself! The once crazed lunatic and bad man, was now was a crafty investigator and righter of wrongs. He had fixed at least a hundred things in this time. Holmes was meant to catch him for his many crimes, and could have done very easily. But now they were allies in the long and twisty war on crime. Watson held back at five metres away and looked at the ground out of respect for the two greats while the greatest detective in the world talked to the ghostly veil of the greatest spy in the empire. He wasn't wearing his trademark bandages you see, that would have shown up his face. “I saw him, you know” it said. “Who?” “You know who”. “Ah. Yes. I always do.” “He dropped something on the ground as I trailed him between contacts in my invisible form, so I sneakily went to pick it up after waiting ten minutes to be sure he saw no sign”. “What?” “This” A purple gloved hand reached out of the dark of the mist and handed Sherlock a letter. The familiar dread cast down over the whole group. It had the telltale M on the other side. “Damn, damn again” Holmes muttered.“ This is it, he's gone too far and I know what I must do. You must do something for me.”

A sigh in the wind, worldwhery with the years of foiling criminals great and tiny. “Of course, anything. You know I still owe you for what you did for me in Surrey, all those years ago. If it wasn't for you, I'd be a dead man. The crowd were baying, and would have caught me for sure. A dead invisible man, rather than just an invisible man that I am now. I owe you a debt of gratitude for saving my invisible skin.” There may have been a smile on the chap's face then, but I couldn't see it even with the mist drifting heavily all around us. “Where is the inventor? I need the future” “You're a crazy man to ask and do what I bet you're going to do, and this is not a surprise. Go to this addresses, and he'll be waiting for you packed and ready to go. He'll help you catch this crazed duke of crime before he dooms us all. My business will be ruined if he gets to do what he wants to do.” Sherlock Holmes took the scrap of paper, folded it carefully into the top of his cane. and skidded up the muddy beach like a gentleman spider, his feet sliding and splashing as he went about. “Bye!” shouted the invisible man. He ran, how he ran. They both ran as fast as they could to their fate with their hats almost falling off, in the literal future of a fate they could no longer avoid.

Little did I know, thought Watson, while he felt the small gun tucked in his pocket, what was to come next. I'd end up somewhere I could never have expected. And met people I'd never dreamt of. And seen the electricity which rules all things eventually, all in the pursuit of damn Moriaty, damn him to hell. I was going to lose so much, but win so much too. As you'll read next.