Time machine – short story

It was 1890. Moriarty had people invent a time machine. He wanted to escape Victorian
England to be free from his nemesis Sherlock Holmes. But Holmes tracked him down. There was a fight in the transportation cabin. Moriarty, price boxer beat Holmes several times. But most of the attacks the detective managed to dodge. Then there was a flash of light. The machine had activated itself. They were transported to the future. 2022 to precise.

In this strange new world Holmes got separated from Moriarty. He didn’t manage to spot his house in London. His only hope was his Swiss bank account his father managed for him. It took him a while to trace the phone number of the company that luckily still existed. He told he was Sherlock Holmes and wanted to extract some money of his savings. It became silent on the other end of the line for a while.
‘We will have to see you, mister Holmes. Your father was very specific about that. He has a portrait from you given to us so we can verify your identity. But I can’t imagine after all this time how you can be possible still alive.’
‘I am pretty resilient,’ Holmes answered dryly and ended the connection.
Even placing the call wasn’t easy. The bartender first made a remark of his odd clothes. Afterwards he wasn’t to happy about the money Holmes was paying him for the long distance call.
‘What’s this for bullocks. That ain’t no money!’
Holmes managed to escape. But how would he get to Switzerland? He would have to commit a crime. It was against all his moral fibers. But he needed money that was up to date.
He deduced their had to be a way to get money fast. Then he saw a bank. A money transport was stopping by. A man unloaded bags. Probably containing currency. Holmes made a dash for it and snatched one of the bags. A wild pursuit followed. Holmes hailed a cab when he had lost his follower.

‘To the docks, dear man, I have a boat to catch to Switzerland.’
‘Isn’t it easier to go by plane,’ the cabby asked.
‘What’s a plane?’ Holmes asked curiously.
‘Buddy, have you been drinking. It’s the thing that takes you up in the air and flies you anywhere you want.’
‘Good, take me there.’
Holmes opened the bag and took out a couple of bills.
‘It won’t cost you that much, ‘the cabdriver said ‘and I don’t have a lot of change.’
Holmes managed to extract a more suitable amount and left it to the driver when they reached the airport.

Utterly lost he entered. He decided to do like all the others where doing. He stepped up to an employer.
‘How do I pay the fair to Switzerland?’ he asked nervously.
‘Well you buy a ticket,’ the astounded man answered looking at him cautious as if dealing with a lunatic.

After hours of waiting and sleeping on a bank Holmes managed to catch the right flight. It was a horrifying experience.A little brad behind him kicked his chair, his neighbor listened to heavy metal music. The cacophony was almost unbearable for his extra primed senses.
Relieved to leave the plain after a quick trip he embarked upon a journey by train to Bern.
He found the bank easily, his father had taken him there on several trips.

The director of the bank expected to see him. He held a painting looking very intensely at it and then examining Holmes face.
‘By God, the resemblance is striking. You are mister Holmes. I don’t know how this is possible. But the money is yours of course.’
‘Can it be exchanged to current currency?’ Holmes wanted to know.
‘Well, yes, easily. They are gold bars. They are very expensive. You are a rich man now, mister Holmes,’ the director smiled.

However he dreaded it, he boarded a plane back to Heathrow with the money secured on a bank account. He got a credit card to go with it. The director was surprised he had to explain the workings of it to this odd fellow. The first thing Holmes did was acquire a hotel. He would soon purchase a house. But first he felt he needed to change his clothes.

Holmes was now ready to call this new world his home. But what about Moriarty, had he survived the trip and if so what was he up to.

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