A Dash of Fictional Realism
The Rouge Residence
"Louise go get your brother! Supper's ready!" a blonde woman shouted to her daughter from the kitchen doorway. Louise, who had only just walked through the door after a long day at college, sighed in annoyance before saying,
"Okay Mom." Too tired and annoyed to bother doing anything else, Louise dropped her backpack on the floor, kicking off her shoes, and trudged down the hallway to fetch her brother. Why did she have to do this, she just spent the whole day doing actual work. Her brother Joseph had come home for spring break because his school had let out for the holidays earlier than hers – lucky dog! She knocked softly on his door and waited until he started to open it to yell, "Joe-Joe, supper's ready!" Louise had quite a set of lungs on her; needless to say her brother glared at her as he checked to make sure his ears weren't bleeding.
"Do you have to yell like a toddler on a sugar high every time you need something?" he asked darkly as he scowled at her. She smirked, quite pleased with herself, and was about to heckle him even more when she noticed something strange behind him.
"What's that?" Louise asked while pointing to a rather odd machine that was sitting in the middle of her brother's room. It didn't look anything like the other engineering projects he'd built over the years.
"Oh, that?" Joseph smirked at her. "It's just my latest project. You wouldn't understand, even if I explained it to you." He brushed past her and started towards to kitchen. "By the way, you touch it, and you're dead!" He called back at her. Well after that last jibe Louise just had to mess with it now (Sibling rivalry and all that). She stuck her tongue out at him even though he couldn't see it and approached the machine. It didn't look any more complex than anything else she had ever seen him make, but then a gain she was an art major, and he was a genius electrical engineer from the womb. She reached out to poke it, but before she could do anything, the machine suddenly came to life and she felt as tough an electrical current was running through her finger to the rest of her body. There was a bright flash, and then pain.
John woke with a start as he realized he forgot he had to be at the clinic that day. He quickly jumped out of bed, threw on his clothes, and rushed out of his room. John noticed Sherlock was already in the kitchen performing one of his experiments as he called out his hurried goodbye, but before he could reach the door, something rather strange happened. There was a zapping sound like crackling electricity. Then a very faint, transparent figure appeared. As the figure rapidly became more solid and opaque, John realized it was a young girl. Once she was completely solid, her body hit the floor with a thud. The girl groaned and a loud "ow" was heard. John reacted to this in a perfectly normal fashion – he freaked out. John was shocked into silence by the strange event unfolding before his eyes.
Sherlock had been admittedly surprised to see a girl materialize out of thin air in his flat, but he quickly collected himself and began deducing her. He watched as the girl picked herself up off the floor into a sitting position and glance around the room as though searching for something. The girl was blond with hazel eyes, short, and appeared to be much younger than him. She was obviously confused and disorientated as she started taking inventory of her new environment. She didn't look particularly surprised when she saw the clutter about their flat, she must be used to it. When she saw the skull however, she was more than just a little surprised, but she also looked a little amused. After seeping her eyes over the mantle her eyes stopped on himself and John. The girl's eyes widened as she finally realized she was not alone. She nervously glanced between the two men – the two strange men – that she was suddenly alone in an unfamiliar room with. Her eyes darted to the door just as Sherlock spoke. "John, shouldn't you be off to the clinic now?"
John seemed to finally snap out of his stupor. "Oh, right – Christ I'm late!" he shouted as he grabbed his coat and ran out the door. John had to admit he was relieved to have an excuse to escape from such a strange and impossible occurrence. He wasn't worried about Sherlock, after the incident at the pool with Moriarty, John was sure Sherlock could handle himself. He did feel a bit guilty about leaving that poor girl alone with Sherlock. He might dissect her…
The girl looked startled at John's sudden departure and she stared after him for a few moments before looking back at Sherlock. "Um, I'm sorry," she said smiling apologetically, "but could you tell me where I am and who you are? I'm Louise by the way." Sherlock stared at her for a moment before replying,
"My name is Sherlock Holmes, The man who just left is John Watson, and you are in our flat, 221B Baker St., London, England." Louise just stared at him in utter shock. Sherlock supposed the reality of her situation had not completely sunk in until she heard her current location. Judging by her accent and clothing brands, she was from America, specifically somewhere in the south.
"England!" Louise cried, "I'm in England? You – you're Sherlock Holmes? And I suppose Mr. Watson is actually Dr. Watson just back from Afghanistan?" She was shooting him an extremely incredulous look. Sherlock was a bit surprised. Why was she so surprised to hear their names? She also managed to figure out that Watson was a doctor, not that it wasn't completely obvious, but most people were rather slow. She probably just read John's blog or found his website, but still, he was bored. Why not drag this out a bit longer?
"Why did you react that way to our names?" Sherlock asked her. She visibly relaxed slightly and shook her head before replying a bit sheepishly,
"Right, sorry about that. I'm just feeling kind of over whelmed with all the weirdness. Your parents must have been big Doyle fans, huh?"
"Doyle who?" Sherlock asked. He honestly had no idea what she was talking about, and found himself a bit peeved when she stared at him like he was and idiot. Louise blinked and raised her eyebrows as she said,
"Sir Arthur Conan Doyle? You really don't know? I mean he's the one who wrote all of the Sherlock Holmes novels."
"There are novels about me?" Sherlock asked. Whoever this Doyle was, he certainly had not gotten Sherlock's permission. He was facing some serious copyright infringements. Louise frowned.
"No, not about you, Sherlock Holmes, the fictional ace detective and his fictional faithful sidekick and friend Dr. John Watson. Even though he's not a real person, He's still considered to be one of the greatest detectives of all time. I even bought a deerstalker hat because of him." she said very seriously and went on to list several of these stories. Sherlock actually blinked. This man was apparently not only writing about characters with the exact same names as John and him, but he was not even creating his own plots – I mean A Study In Scarlet? It was just what John had written for his blog entry A Study In Pink, but he set it during the 1800s instead. Which was when Louise claimed he actually wrote it. Sherlock thought for a moment that maybe he had just deleted this information after hearing it before, but the parallels were just too strong. It was slightly unsettling, and what was the significance of the hat? Sherlock didn't answer her. Instead, he left his place in the kitchen and swept over to his laptop, well John's laptop, his was in the bedroom. He opened the internet browser and started searching for in formation on "Sir Arthur Conan Doyle". Louise just stared after him before she suddenly remembered something very important. She forgot to call her family and let them know she was okay. She pulled out her cellphone to make the call, but when she looked at the screen, it said "activation required". This was very strange. She'd had the phone for months now, and it never gave her any problems. She had even just used it an hour ago to let her mother know she was leaving school. Louise looked back at Sherlock who was staring intently at his computer screen.
"Can I borrow your phone?" she asked, "Please? I promise I'll pay you back for whatever long distance charges I run up on it." Sherlock tossed her his phone. She fumbled with it before finally catching it. She quickly dialed her home phone number as Sherlock watched her. He was staring so intensely it was making her even more nervous. Louise heard her mother answer the phone. "Hi Mom, it's me, Louise," she said smiling. Then her face fell. "What do you mean Louise who? I'm your one and only daughter. I'm calling to tell you – W-What? Wait!" Louise pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it in shock. She looked up at Sherlock, stunned and said, " She didn't recognize me. She didn't recognize me, and she said she doesn't have a daughter. She told me her daughter "Louise Rouge" was still born twenty-one years ago." She swallowed. "I'm twenty-one," she said, "I could hear my dad and my brother laughing in the background. They're not worried about my sudden disappearing act at all."
"Your full name is Louise Rouge?" Sherlock asked. Louise just stared at him. She just told him her family was treating her like a stranger, and that is what he noticed?
"Yeah," she answered recovering from her shock, "My full name is Louise Marie Rouge." Sherlock immediately typed this into the search engine. "Did you just google me?" She asked.
"Yes." He answered her absentmindedly as he read the new information appearing on his screen, or rather the lack of information. Louise came to stand behind him and leaned over as she read over his shoulder. What she saw only added to her confusion. Nothing. There was absolutely no information popping up on her. There were some articles on her aunt, Louise Françoise, from when she was a nurse, but there was nothing about her. Her friends had googled her before and they told her tons of stuff had popped up about her achievements at school and her work on the Deviant Art website, but now it was like she had been completely erased. She mentioned this to Sherlock. Sherlock was not surprised after he had overheard her conversation with her mother and the results of his previous search.
"Nothing came up when I searched for Doyle either." He told her
"What?" She asked. Louise was beyond confused and way too upset from her series of consecutive shocks to even attempt to keep up with Sherlock. Sherlock sighed impatiently as he realized Louise was on a downward spiral that would eventually make her very difficult to deal with. Perhaps he shouldn't have reminded John to leave. John was more accustomed to handling people than he was. He was also reluctant to share his theory on Louise's sudden appearance here because it was utterly ridiculous. It was impossible. Then again it was supposed to be impossible for a human being to suddenly materialize out of thin air too. "Do you know what's happening?" Louise asked him hesitantly. Sherlock looked at her and said,
"Tell me about the events leading up to your arrival at our flat, leave nothing out."