Trying To Piece It Together (Sherlock)
Amelia had always considered herself a clever woman- more clever even than most men she had encountered. Her skills of deduction were admired by many; even her beloved husband occasionally, albeit grudgingly, had admitted to admiring her intelligence. Yet for all her reasoning, this was one puzzle where the solution continued to elude her.
It wasn't how she got here or how she could get home that troubled her the most, though those were certainly valid concerns. More than that it was a question of what. What was this City? At first, upon her first meeting with the very kind Mr. Watson, and taking stock of the area, she believed she had taken some sort of trip into the future. That opinion continued upon her encounter with Mr. Spock. An alien from another world did not contradict the notion of a future world. But beyond that, it little seemed to fit.
Her position at the Library, for instance. The job was already waiting for her, with an almost instant promotion to something that, short of digging in her beloved Egypt, was the perfect occupation for her. With it came the opportunity for someone who liked to research to quickly catch up with this time period. Yet it was all too neatly and mysteriously arranged. As was the odd appearance of her own private articles in the exhibition area. She had not had them with her when she arrived, so how did they get there?
Finally, there was Mr. Sweeney and his ridiculous revelation of being a leprechaun. That was even more unbelievable than his tale of having died and awakened in the City. She'd wanted to believe it was the ranting of a drunken man, a man she had admittedly accosted and who may have simply wanted to upset her, but somehow that didn't feel right. Neither did what she was finding in the books in front of her.
Every book Amelia found on Egyptologists held no mention at all of herself or her husband. While it was disappointing to her own pride, the fact that Emerson wasn't mentioned at all made no sense. He was famous! Every other archaeologist, regardless of how minute his contributions were, was mentioned somewhere. But not them. How was that possible? Others listed in the records would not have been nearly as successful as they were if not for Emerson's aid, usually at their request. That was how good he was! Yet according to history, it was as if they never existed.
Amelia put her elbows on the table and dropped her face in her hands with a sigh. What was she missing? She felt she almost had it...