5 ways Batman & Sherlock Holmes might have met

I think #5 wants to bust out on its own, but I don't think I could write an alien invasion sensibly, particularly since my brain keeps trying to throw magic and alternate earths into the mix. Honestly. Some days it's enough to make me want to lay my head down on a blank piece of paper and cry.

Anyways, if you didn't see this one coming, raise your hand.


1. Backwards (then)

London, 1899, the tattered newspaper informed him, which meant either time-travel or a full-blown hallucination. Bruce hoped it was the latter, mostly because he knew Alfred and Lucius could deal with that. Though if he was actually when and where he appeared to be. . . .

Well. Clothes, safe storage for the suit, and then off to get instructions to a certain residence on Baker Street.

2. Contemporaneous (then)

“You don’t actually think someone is running around on rooftops while dressed up like a bat, do you?” Watson asked, voice full of doubt, one hand pressed unconsciously against a scar gained during one of Holmes’s more . . . sensational cases.

“I think that it is a more reasonable explanation, although without data I cannot speak with any certainty.” Holmes began packing his pipe with tobacco, a task long since mindless in its familiarity, and considered Watson’s question with more care. “There are certain areas of our fair city that the police dare not patrol with anything approaching thoroughness; too much crime, too few people with respect for the law. To force order upon those places would require an army—or two—and the process would be long and messy and called off before it was finished. But everyone fears something, and those who scoff at Scotland Yard may well tremble at the thought of a shadow with teeth and a sense of justice.”

“Justice. . . .” Watson echoed thoughtfully, and let his hand drop back down to the newspapers spread across the table. “Justice or vengeance?”

“I suspect we shall find out,” Holmes said, and struck a match.

3. Forwards (now)

Two hours later, Holmes was still seated in front of the viewing screen of the “computer”, and Watson found himself wondering if perhaps his friend had been somehow mesmerized by the thing. He said as much to Wayne, who looked startled for a moment and then laughed.

“Not by the computer, no, although perhaps by the information it stores. Heaven knows I’ve lost track of time more than once while trying to make sense of something.”

“More than a hundred times,” Wayne’s man Pennyworth muttered sotto voce as he passed by Watson. “I suspect that this is not entirely out of character for Mr. Holmes?” he added in a normal speaking tone.

“Not entirely,” Watson admitted.

4. Contemporaneous (now)


“Holmes.” Equally dry statements of fact, although one held perhaps just the faintest suggestion of relief. “I thought I told you to stay out of my city.” And far enough away from Batman to prevent any observations pointing towards Bruce Wayne. If an accountant could figure it out, Holmes could, given an incentive.

“You did. And I did, and would continue to do so if my hand had not been forced.” The minute twitch of his fingers suggested either a suppressed need for action or the desire to scrub down under hot water—both sentiments with which Bruce could sympathize. “Circumstances are such that I need an ally unattached to the police, one who is willing to . . . overlook certain laws if necessity requires it.” Overlook, bend, break, trample, if Bruce was reading his stance correctly.

“Am I correct in supposing that these circumstances are somehow related to why you’ve come to me and not Gordon, and alone?” The answer was going to be yes, Bruce could tell, and he really didn’t want it to be. He still hadn’t recovered from the last catastrophe, still bled out every night under the protection of armor and darkness.

And while Holmes by turns intrigued and infuriated him, Dr. Watson stood as a reminder that James Gordon was not the only good man left.

In the light of the street lamps, Holmes looked old and tired and gray, and nothing like himself. “Yes. They do.”

5. ...honestly, I haven’t the foggiest (but in my head this one’s labeled “Sherlock Holmes and Batman fight the Goa’uld”)

“Sir,” Featherweight said, and handed Bruce a tattered piece of folded paper, ducking out of the room again with that odd hand-flick that the younger soldiers had started using as a salute.

Soldiers. He hated to use that term to describe them, but that’s what they’d become. Everyone was one now, or dead, or a liability—some people just refused to understand that things weren’t the way they’d been before.

“Good news or bad?” his companion asked, not looking up from the hand-drawn maps he was sorting through almost absent-mindedly.

Bruce skimmed through the message, frowned, and reread it with more care. “Both,” he said eventually, and dropped the paper onto the card-table currently serving as his desk. “Holmes, how well do you trust your sources of information?”

“Very well.” Holmes straightened, looking over at him with something akin to amusement. “As long as they’re paid properly. Why?”

“Someone—name, occupation and affiliation unknown—is claiming that the Ringjacks have decided we’re no longer enough of a threat to warrant continued high security on this region’s flight base.”

“Hm.” Holmes picked his way across the map-strewn floor and bent to study the message. “The wearing along the creases is consistent with something that’s been passed from hand to hand over a considerable distance, but the rest of it—”

“The handwriting?” Bruce asked; although he had some knowledge of such things, Holmes far outstripped him.

“The penmanship, yes,” Holmes confirmed. “I cannot think of any reason for a human to form the letters so.”

“Nor I for the Ringjacks to not have had one of their pets to do it for them.” Bruce rubbed his thumb against the paper, half-expecting it to dissolve under his touch. “But whatever's going on, the unicorn stationary is an interesting touch.”
I am going to be randomly breaking out in chuckles for the next five days or so, and it will be all your fault. >.
Regarding #3 - hahahaha, they will never get him away from the computer once he figures out how to edit Wikipedia. *g*

This was really a lot of fun, and I loved the structure of it!
I really can't take credit for #3--that one's pretty much entirely lillian13. All I did was stick a POV on it and add some dialog. And Holmes on Wikipedia is a scary idea, isn't it? (Who needs drugs? We've got the internet!)

The time travel is really neat, and I love that Holmes has his Watson in many of the same ways that Batman has his Gordon, but I am extremely excited about a Batman born and raised in the Victorian era (with the faintest touches of Jules Verne steampunk and adventuring) whose actions attract the attentions of Holmes and Watson and the subsequent adventures as Holmes tries to find this Bat Man, figures out what to do with him, and maybe even does some adventuring with him. THAT WOULD BE SO COOL.
*adds her own fannish squee* Cool Indeed.

Please sir, I want some...more? The striking of the match at the end of #2 is exactly like the end of the first clip in a theatrical trailer. I won't ask for a movie, but a scene or two would be lovely.
I want some more. So you may get some. Maybe "5 scenes from that Batman/Sherlock Holmes crossover I'm never going to have the time to write"? Yeah, that could probably be managed.

Of course, I lie whenever I label things like that, because once I start them they automatically go on my "finish before you die or else!" list, which keeps getting longer: simultaneously exhilarating and depressing. So, if you're patient and stick around, you just might get your complete wish and not just bits of it.

But there will definitely be bits in the not-too-distant future.
Oh man. Some days I reaaaaaaaally really wish I were either a) independently wealthy or b) super self-disciplined so that I could actually write these things in full instead of scribbling down random snippets. Because I can almost taste the story you're sketching at here--and how differently things (and by "things" I mean "Bruce") would turn out if Alfred (and, depending on what version you're going with, Lucius Fox) wasn't all Bruce had for a support system.

Oh man. So much research! But it would be so worth it.

Aaahaha. See, this is why I never manage to finish stories. My brain keeps getting waylaid by the most recent shiny thing.