Written by Winnie [AKA Poohbear-29]

Lee Crane sat in his favourite chair, his right foot elevated as per Doctors orders. Today was his first day alone since breaking his ankle a week ago. He’d finally convinced Jamie that he’d stay off his feet and relax in front of the TV. Chip had volunteered to bring him dinner after he was finished with his paperwork.

‘Wonder what’s on the boob tube today?’ he thought. Levering himself up, he grabbed his crutches and slowly made his way to the TV.

"Welcome to the Saturday Afternoon Mystery Theatres double bill. Today’s features are, Sherlock Holmes and The Hound Of The Baskervilles Followed immediately by, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, so sit back and enjoy the show," A mans tinny voice announced excitedly.

‘Haven’t watched a Sherlock Holmes movie in quite a while, must be nearly 3 years,’ Lee thought as he made his way back to his chair and got comfortable. He reached for the bottle of painkillers Jamie had left him and popped two into his mouth.

The opening credits for the first movie ended and the story began to unfold in Holmes famous residence at 221b Bakers Street. Lee settled back to enjoy the show. By the end of the first movie he was feeling the effects of the painkillers and felt his eyes closing as the second show opened on Professor Moriarty

*******

"Mr Holmes, Sir. You have a visitor."

"Huh," Crane said, looking into the strangely familiar face of an elderly woman, "Who are you?"

"It’s me, Mrs. Hudson. What’s the matter with you, Mr. Holmes? Did somebody hit you over the head or something?" she asked seriously.

"Mrs. Hudson?"

"That’s right. Dr. Watson is waiting in the lobby, should I send him in?"

"Watson, Holmes’s Watson?"

"Well now I don’t think that’s what he calls himself. Let me get him for you, Sir. Maybe he can make some sense of what’s happening."

"Please send him in Mrs. Hudson," Lee Crane told her. ‘What’s going on here?’ he asked himself. He was no longer in the familiar surroundings of his apartment. Instead he was seated in a chair by a fireplace. Another chair sat opposite him and in between was a small round table. A crystal decanter and two matching glasses, both used, sat beside a half eaten donut. A warm, cozy fire was burning in the fireplace and it cast a soft orange glow over the room.

‘This looks like Sherlock Holmes’s office. Ok, Lee you must be dreaming. Just wake yourself up and everything will be back to normal.’ Crane pinched his arm but nothing changed. He was shocked again when he noticed he wore checked pants, ‘This is really weird,’ he thought.

"Mrs. Hudson informs me you’re having identity problems, Holmes," Crane looked up at the familiar voice speaking in a distinctly British accent. The man standing before him was definitely Chip Morton but instead of his uniform he was dressed exactly as Watson in the movie he’d just finished watching.

"Chip!" Crane exclaimed. "Why are you wearing that old suit?"

"Chip? My name is Watson. What’s gotten into you, Holmes? Do you want me to fetch the Doctor?"

"No don’t bother. If I’m Sherlock Holmes I should be able to use my famous deductive reasoning to figure this one out."

"That’s the spirit, Holmes, old man. Now when did this problem with your identity start?"

Crane looked at the table and laughed, "I may be Sherlock Holmes right now but there’s no way I’m smoking that pipe."

"But, Holmes, you always have your pipe when you start a new case."

"Not this time, Chip, ah, Watson."

"What is wrong with you, Holmes?"

"I’m hoping we’ll be able to figure that out together."

"Perhaps we can. Tell me Holmes, where do we start?"

"I have no idea," Lee Crane told his friend.

"Come now, old man, you’ve always been able to figure things out. Use that famous Holmes power of deduction."

"I don’t know if I can, Watson. I can’t even deduce whether or not I’m Sherlock Holmes having a nightmare about being Lee Crane or Lee Crane having a nightmare about being Sherlock Holmes," he laughed.

"Lee Crane?"

"That’s right. Lee Crane, Captain of Seaview," he stood up and looked down at his healthy leg. "Even this is wrong. I broke my ankle last week and had surgery. It should be in a cast and I should be sitting in my chair watching television, and waiting for you, ah, Chip Morton to arrive with dinner!"

"Dinner. Holmes it’s only seven am. Mrs Hudson was just preparing breakfast when I came down. My God, old man, you really are serious about this aren’t you?"

"Yes, Watson, I am. Perhaps I should go back to sleep and see if I wake up someone else. Maybe I’ll find out I’m really Moriarty."

"Don’t even joke about such things, Holmes. Moriarty is a dangerous man. Wait a minute maybe he has something to do with what’s wrong with you. After all he was present when the mind control document was stolen. He says he’s innocent but with the document still missing, I think it’s possible that he built the machine and somehow used it to confuse you. After all you were the only one who deduced the man was behind the jewel theft."

"Jewel Theft, oh you mean the Crown jewels in the Adventure Of Sherlock Holmes movie?"

"What is a Movie?" Watson asked, looking at his friend strangely

"A movie is a show on Television."

"Television, you mentioned that word before. What is that?" Watson asked worry evident on his expressive face.

"I’ll never be able to explain that one. It wasn’t even invented in eighteen something or other. Whatever this year is," he said running his hands through his hair and settling back in his chair

"Eighteen eighty five. Holmes, I’m really getting worried about you, old man."

"Me too, Watson," Crane began but was stopped when Mrs. Hudson brought in a tray of bangers and eggs, toast and tea.

Placing the tray on the table she picked up the plate with the donut on it, "What’s things coming to when all you eat these days are stale donuts!’ she exclaimed.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. I’d love a coffee." Crane stated.

Mrs. Hudson looked at Crane strangely and laughed, "That’ll be the day. You never drank coffee with your breakfast before. Stop pulling an old ladies leg." She said hastily leaving the room.

"Tea, Holmes?" Watson asked passing a cup of the hot brew across the table.

"I don’t seem to have a choice," he said. The aroma of the fresh baked bread was so enticing Crane found himself digging into the breakfast with more relish then he’d ever done before. "Mrs. Hudson is quite the cook."

"Yes she is," Watson said and looked up quickly as something sailed past Holmes’s head to land with a loud thump at the opposite end of the room.

Lee Crane jumped to his feet and rushed to pick up the object.

"What is it, Holmes?"

"It’s a note from Moriarty." Crane said astonished at how easy it was to answer to the famous name.

"The man must be running out of money. He usually uses a live messenger not the old rock through the window routine. What does it say?"

"It says I am to meet him at the Tower of London at midnight tonight. He will explain what’s happening to me then."

"The Tower of London. That’s where he supposedly killed himself. He seems to have more lives than a cat."

"Well at least he seems to have used up 3 of those lives. The man always seems to turn up like a bad penny. That’s what Chip says after each show."

"Show? Do you mean like a play? Is that what a movie is?"

"Close enough," Crane laughed.

"What are you going to do?"

"I’m going to meet the man of course," he said, "Unless I wake up before midnight."

"What was that about waking up? Do you still insist that you’re dreaming," Watson said reaching out and pinching Cranes arm.

"Ouch! What did you do that for?"

"To prove you’re not dreaming." Watson grinned.

"Did you ever think I might be dreaming you just pinched me? I never could understand that old concept of pinching yourself to see if you’re dreaming. It hurts when you’re awake and it hurts when you’re asleep because dreams often seem so real."

"Now that sounds like the old Holmes. Your power of deduction seems to be returning. Sorry about the pinch, old man," Watson laughed and Crane could see Chip Morton’s facial expressions coming through.

"You’re forgiven, Watson. Since we have some time to kill maybe you can tell me what this broken watch has to do with me."

Watson took the watch from Crane’s hand and shook his head, "I haven’t a clue, Holmes. I never saw anything like it before. Maybe it has something to do with the name written on it. Timex. What a strange name."

Crane retrieved the watch from his friend, "If I am dreaming then the watch is not broken, because according to their ads, IT TAKES A LICKING AND KEEPS ON TICKING. This could cause that company some severe financial nightmares if I’m not dreaming. Then again if I’m not dreaming this watch shouldn’t even be here, because it won’t be invented for seventy or eighty years," he laughed.

"Holmes, this is really strange. I must insist that you let me go with you tonight to meet with Moriarty."

"Thank-you Watson. I would appreciate the company." Crane looked up at a soft knock on the closed door, "Come in," he said.

Mrs. Hudson opened the door and spoke softly, "Mr. Holmes, sir, the Captain of Scotland yard is here to see you. He says it important."

"The Captain of Scotland yard. By all means send him in." Crane said turning to Watson. "I think I should let you handle this. I don’t even remember who he is."

"I’ll do my best, Holmes," Watson answered and stood as a man with dark hair and short stature entered the room. "Captain Orson, What can we do for you?"

Crane stared at the man he knew as Francis Ethelbert Sharkey and laughed. He was wearing a black trench coat, black fedora style hat, and an umbrella. ‘If I’m dreaming I can’t wait to wake up and tell Sharkey about this.’

"I’m here to see Holmes. I need to ask him some questions," Sharkey answered in a cockney accent that made Crane double over with laughter.

"I’m sorry, Captain. It’s just that I’ve never heard you talk with an accent before."

"What’s the matter with you, Holmes?" the captain asked.

"He’s just having an identity crisis, Captain. Perhaps you could come back later."

"I...I don’t know. I guess I could. What kind of identity crisis?"

"I don’t know if I’m dreaming or awake. I don’t know if I’m Holmes or Crane! I don’t know if he’s Watson or Morton, and I don’t know if you’re the captain of Scotland Yard or chief Sharkey of Seaview. " Lee exclaimed.

"I’m Captain Orson and I’ve been with Scotland yard for nearly fifteen years," he said firmly as he turned his attention to the blonde man, "Dr. Watson have you taken him to a professional?"

"Professional what?" Crane asked.

"Professional doctor of course. I think maybe you need you’re head shrunk, maybe it’s gotten too big for your shoulders. I had a cousin who had it done and now his hats fit him just fine," Captain Orson said seriously.

Crane laughed so hard he thought his sides would bust, "You obviously don’t know what you are talking about, Captain. People really don’t get their heads shrunk at a professional doctors office. As far as I know it’s only done by certain tribes in darkest Africa and the person is usually not alive."

"But my cousin swears it happened!" Orson exclaimed.

"Well then I’d make sure your cousin went to a different doctor. Whoever he was seeing should also accompany him."

"I’ll not stand here and listen to you put my family down for their beliefs. I came here to ask you some questions as one detective to another but I can see you’re not yourself. I’ll return when you apologize!" he said and rushed out the door.

"Holmes, old man, I think you just made a big mistake." Watson said.

"I didn’t make the mistake. The people who made him captain of Scotland Yard made the mistake. How can he believe that a man can have his head shrunk? This has to be a nightmare. I wonder if I fell asleep would I wake up in the real world. I think it’s time to try an experiment. Would you wake me in an hour, Watson?"

"If that’s what you want, old man."

"That’s what I want. It might just give me the answers I need."

"What do you mean?"

"It all depends on whether you wake me as Watson or Morton."

"Which one do you prefer?"

"I don’t know Watson. Why don’t we wait and see? I’ll be in my bedroom."

"All right, old man. Maybe you do need to rest."

******

"Holmes, Wake up."

Crane sat up in the strange bed and looked around, "What? Where are we Mr. Morton?"

"It’s not Morton, it’s me Watson. Don’t tell me you’re still confused?"

"I’m afraid so, Watson. Why is it so dark in here? What time is it?"

"It’s nearly ten o’clock. We need to get moving if we’re to make the meeting with Moriarty."

"Moriarty? That’s right, we have to meet him at Tower of London. But that’s not till midnight. It’s only ten am isn’t it?"

"It’s nearly ten pm, Holmes."

"I could have sworn I asked you to wake me in an hour."

"It has been an hour. You went to sleep at nine pm and I’m calling you at ten pm. This seems to be getting worse, old man." Watson said worriedly.

"That’s so strange. We just had breakfast. How can it be so late?"

"I’m really beginning to think Moriarty has used that mind control device on you, Holmes."

"You could be right, Watson. I’m beginning to think the same thing. Either that or I really am dreaming."

"Let’s not start that again, Holmes," Watson grinned.

******

"The tower always terrified me as a boy," Watson said, his voice sounding ominous in the cold fog as they entered the White Tower.

"I can understand why. I mean there are so many stories of deaths, murders and even disappearances anyone would be weary. Sir Thomas More, John Fisher and Princess Elizabeth being 3 famous examples. Moriarty picked the White Tower for just that reason. Come Watson, the games afoot," Crane said as he rushed up the stairs to the arranged meeting place.

"Holmes wait. It could be a trap," Watson yelled running up the stairs in spite of his fears.

******

Crane entered the famous prison tower and was shocked to see a familiar shape standing at the north window. By candlelight he could see that the Admiral was not dressed in his usual uniform but instead wore a black pinstripe suit, white ruffled shirt, black derby hat and a grey scarf placed securely around his neck.

"Holmes, I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show up."

"I take it you’re Moriarty?" Crane asked as Watson came up behind him.

"Who else would I be? I haven’t changed since our last meeting."

"I’m afraid you’re wrong there. At our last meeting you fell to your death. I am supposed to have witnessed it. I just don’t remember being there," Crane said.

"I’m afraid reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated as you can see."

"Yes I can see that. Tell me, Moriarty, did you steal the mind control document?" Crane asked.

"What do you think?" Moriarty’s evil laugh sounded harsh in the deathlike tomb of the tower. Without giving Crane a chance to answer he continued, "Of course I did and now that you’re here I will finish the job I started. Have you noticed things are not what they appear to be? Do you feel like you are two separate people?"

"Are you trying to tell me I’m not dreaming and that I’m really Sherlock Holmes?"

"Precisely! I have perfected the device and now I will finish my little experiment. I’m afraid, Watson, you will have to die. I have no wish to leave witnesses." Moriarty said pulling a gun from his pocket and pointing it at Watson.

"NO!" Crane exclaimed as he lunged for the gun. He tackled his archenemy and the momentum took them to the edge of the stone staircase. Unable to stop themselves the two men toppled over the staircase and began a bone-breaking fall to what would undoubtedly be their deaths. Crane felt himself yell as his body hit step after step on the long trip to the bottom.

******

"NO," Crane screamed.

"Lee, Lee, come on wake up. You’re having a nightmare."

"Huh! Watson. I thought I was dead.’

"Watson? Dead? What are you talking about, Lee?"

Crane shook his head and recognized the familiar surroundings. He sighed with relief when he realized it had all been a dream. "Chip, is it really you or am I still dreaming?"

"It’s me, Lee. I’m real but that must have been some dream. Who’s Watson?"

"You were Watson and I was Sherlock Holmes."

Morton glanced at the TV as the closing credits for The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes came on the screen, "I see you were watching TV before your little nap. That explains why you dreamed of being the master detective."

Crane laughed as he pulled himself upright, "You know, Chip, it was kind of weird. In the dream Admiral Nelson was Moriarty and he’d used some kind of mind control device on me to make me think I was two different people. Even Sharkey showed up as the Captain of Scotland Yard."

"Sharkey?"

"Yes Sharkey and I can’t wait to tell him he had such a nice cockney accent."

"That’s some dream. By the way why did you yell NO?"

"Probably because Moriarty had just drawn a gun on you and when I tried to take it away we tumbled down the Tower of London Stairs," Crane said reaching out for the bottle of pills Jamie had given him, "I think I’ll tell Jamie to keep these."

"What are they?"

"Painkillers. But I think I’d rather have the pain then another nightmare like the last one. Why don’t we play some chess instead of watching a movie?" Crane asked.

"All right, Lee, no more movies. I’ll get the chess board."

"Thanks, Chip," Lee said with a relieved grin.