A/N: This was originally suppose to be a one-shot, but the word count is now well over 10,000 and still going, so I'm sending it in sections cuz I'm tired of not getting it done and finding out if I should even bother in case it sucks the big one. Which I think it does, but anyway. But if it goes well I have made up in my head a sequel, and even a third part (but I doubt I'll get that far). So if you ppl like it so far, do let me know k?

This is my first time writing anything about Sherlock Holmes (although I've been a fan of it for over 8 years now) and Iron Man which I only recently saw. So I'm very sorry if it's entirely ooc, but I tried very hard for it to sound somewhat close. I'm almost positive I failed. I got the inspiration for this from a girl who wrote the crossover series called "Out of Time" (and also the idea of a RDJ/RDJ pairing took over all thoughts, and then yeah.) An ungodly amount of praise to my beta gunslingaaahhh, who if it sounds great, it's most likely because of her ^w^

"Well there's something you don't see everyday."

Tony muttered to himself when a destitute woman chucked what he could only imagine was human waste out her window and splashing down onto some unfortunate vagrants standing below. They turned their attentions upward and angrily shook their fists and engaged her in a heated argument in which she clearly blamed them entirely. Saying something in the lines that 'they shouldn't have been standing there when she did it,' which of course was responded with not only a slew of colorful metaphors but an answer along the lines of 'how were they suppose to know she'd be throwing her shit out the window all willy-nilly, and that next time she should announce it so they'd make sure to be on the other side'. It would have been terribly funny, if it wasn't actually happening across the street from him.

His face twisted in disgust as the smell hit his nostrils in a wave. Everything already smelled bad enough to make his stomach churn, and this was the cherry on top. He coughed and maneuvered his jacket over his mouth and nose in a futile attempt to keep the bombarding stench of the streets from his senses. Everything smelled of urine, feces, and something else he couldn't identify. With his other hand he checked himself quickly to make sure none of the... whatever it was, got on him. He shuddered at the thought.

*

He was starting to miss home with each passing day that he was stuck here. In the past, that is. And not in the 'starting-the-day-over', or 'repeating-the-fourth-grade', etc. etc. But in the honest to goodness past.

Late 19th century to be exact.

And in England to boot.

Through a series of mistakes -- that were not his fault, contrary to what everyone believes -- plus a well placed explosion (courtesy of Doctor Doom) that knocked him so hard it could've put Earth out of orbit, Tony Stark woke up in a time and place where everyone should've been long dead and the everyday household items would be in museums or antique stores selling for high prices. Gone was his house, never having been built yet, and lost was his precious collection of automobiles and computer technologies that wouldn't be invented in years.

All he had that even remotely said he came from 'a time yet to happen' was his collective store of knowledge and, of course, Jarvis. For he (naturally) was wearing the 'Iron Man' suit when he took his little trip down memory lane.

Oh, and the 'glowing-torch-in-his-chest', which his kind--yet infamous--roommates called it.

He didn't completely dread being here, for it was a rather historical convenience. He just wished someone would have prepared him for the smell of rotting filth and horse manure that lingered everywhere.

Tony thought life couldn't get any worse when he landed in a place where he was never meant to exist, but it did when he was discovered by two locals.

Only they weren't just any locals. They were the locals. The dynamic duo. The detectives of the century. The couple that sprouted countless books, movies, plays, spin-offs, sequels, games, museums, you name it, after them. The talk of London themselves. The ones who made Baker Street and the number '221' one of the most famous places in history;

Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John H. Watson.

Tony always heard they were fictional. How fucking unlucky could a guy get? They turned out way too curious for their own good. Especially Holmes, who really hasn't left Stark alone since he 'saw' him appear out of thin air. He's been trying to deflect his ongoing questioning since he's been here, and so far he's been handling it... clumsily, but adequately. Not wanting to mess up time-lines by telling more than he should because he doesn't want to go back home and everyone has three heads, or something. Then he won't fit in the future either.

Well, he'd think, at least they're both exceedingly attractive. A pot of gold at the end of every rainbow.

But Tony had another problem; he honestly didn't know how to get home. He and Jarvis at first thought about duplicating the impact of the explosion, but with the materials he has to work with here the outcome would always end with irreparable damage on a large scale. Not exactly a subtle exit.

Then everyone will for sure have three heads, and possibly screech like parrots back home (although on some people he knows it would be an improvement).

So in the meantime he's stuck here until they can work out an alternative that's less catastrophic. He did hear something once about time shifts and catching them at the right moment when they show up, so maybe if he could configure a (albeit crude) device to try and find one that will lead to approximately his exact time period from when he left...

Who knows? He'd both made and done stranger things than that.

*

They were standing in front of a building that once had seen better days, just he and Holmes. Watson had an overload of patients when his partnering doctor took a sudden leave of absence for a family crisis, and so Watson had to manage his workload. He willingly did it, as he kept saying he owed the man when he would do the same to him on account of Holmes.

Unusual dark stains painted one side in particular which led down to an alleyway. Most likely blood from outside brawls. Some street urchins whooped and hollered down the cobbled stones, running in between Holmes and Stark then turning down into the alley. A few of them bumped into Tony, and when for a brief moment he felt their hands on him his first reaction was a hand over his chest to protect his arc reactor. But when a few of their faces fell in disappointment he realized they were attempting to pickpocket him. Thankfully, neither of his temporary roommates allowed him to have any currency.

He watched with a self righteous huff as one of the taller boys dragged a stick against the brick wall. Although the moment had passed he still felt the need to yell at them to 'watch it', and 'where he comes from that could be considered sexual assault'. With his one free hand he smoothed himself out. (The other one was still holding his jacket over his mouth and nose.)

Stark sighed as he looked up and down the busy street. He reached desperately into every and any pocket he had to try and find something like a handkerchief to help keep the bile from rising up his throat from the stench that was starting to suffocate him. He slapped his arm down in frustration when he found nothing. Then, as a last and spontaneous act of desperation he lunged forward and snatched Holmes' long scarf that laid over his shoulders, (in which Holmes gave little or no attention to aside from a brief glance at Stark) and then taking a deep breath let go of his hold on his jacket and began wrapping the wool around his neck, mouth and nose. He didn't care what he looked like, the smell was horrible.

After tucking the ends in he took several deep breaths and found the scent difference intoxicating; it smelled of Holmes.

He crossed his arms and stared longingly at the door to go inside, knowing it has got to be better in there than out here.

They hadn't been there long and already he was impatient to move on.

"You sure know how to take a guy to all the classiest places in town. I suppose it doesn't get any better than this. But with you I guess this is to be expected. Hell, maybe it's what you prefer."

He gestured the last statement to his companion in front of him. Who had been ignoring him till that last part, where Stark was rewarded with a stony glare.

Which instantly turned into one of stunned shock when he took in Stark's appearance.

With his Ivy cap on, Stark's face was almost completely covered. All you could see of the man's head under there were his dark eyes. He had his arms crossed and had an air of agitation. To Holmes, he looked like a mugger or a well dressed bandit.

"What? It smells bad out here." He said with indignation, then mumbled "you'd think so too if you weren't so fucking use to it."

Holmes blinked. He sniffed loudly and, ignoring what Stark said and his appearance -- albeit slightly amused by it -- turned back to the door he was working on to get it open.

Although this was the key to open the door, he could not, for the life of him, remember why it wasn't unlocking. He recalled that there might have been a trick to it since it was very old, but what was it again? A yank to the left? Turn it hard while holding the handle down? He brought the key up to his face and frowned, inspecting it closely. There appeared to be no dirt or dents that would prevent it from functioning. So he bent down and blew a few times into the keyhole. When it seemed clear enough he put the key back in and wiggled it around in hopes the lock would finally give.

He didn't want to resort to breaking and entering just yet. He wasn't a common criminal after all (even though his companion now looked like one). He didn't do this sort of thing all the time, and certainly not in front of bystanders.

When the detective turned back to the door Tony looked over the rundown building they were trying to enter.

"I thought you were an expert at this sort of thing."

When he didn't get an answer, he paused a moment then promptly changed the subject.

"So this is where you go to let off steam, fighting in the big ring?"

From his short stay here so far he had heard -- and been warned -- about this place Holmes frequented. Ever since it was first brought up he had been itching to go and witness first hand what goes on in there. A chance to see Sherlock Holmes fighting another man at the top of his form -- not to mention panting, sweating and downright shirt-less -- and seeing those legendary fighting skills at work was not an opportunity Tony would ever want to miss. He got a shiver down his spine from just the thought of it. But he had a feeling he would never be allowed to go, what with Super Nannies watching his every move.

So when Holmes himself asked if he would accompany him personally to that very location, his mouth never gave him a chance to let his brain question why.

"Yes, it is. And we must hurry for we only have I believe less than an hour to-- aha!" Holmes gave the key one hard twist and the old tumblers clicked open. The lock was old and just needed a good jerk to get it working. He turned the handle and took the key out. He gave a triumphant smile to Tony and twirled the key back into his pocket. "There we are." Holmes opened the door wide and with a flourish beckoned Tony inside. "After you Mr. Stark."

"Finally!" Stark breathed out and rushed in. Once inside he pulled the scarf off, took in a deep breath... and nearly passed out. In a coughing fit he stumbled over to a small bar and leaned on it for support. Stark wedged a finger in his collar and pulled on it to loosen it's tight hold on his throat to help him breathe better. "Jesus Christ, it smells even worse in here." The room was hot and the funk of old sweat and extreme body odor was all consuming. He could taste the stale air in his mouth every time he breathed in. It started to cause him to gag and his eyes watered. "Fuck Holmes, are you trying to kill me?"

Tony could see from the corner of his bleary eye that Holmes seemed fine and perfectly oblivious to the lack of oxygen. In fact, the detective appeared to actually be enjoying the aroma.

"Kill you, no. That would be a waste of time and talent. You could not 'die' from this anymore than one could die from listening to you ramble on about yourself. Although, there have been times when it seemed quite possible."

Tony closed his eyes and started to gasp. "Holmes, I really... can't breathe..." He pushed himself away from the bar and turned to make a break for the door. But he tripped over his feet and landed flat on the ground. He tried to get back up. "Need... air... I think... you're enjoying this... you sadist..."

Holmes rolled his eyes.

"Oh for Heaven's sake, come here before you pass out on the floor. Then you'll be of no use to me at all."

Holmes bent down and slipped an arm around Tony's waist and hoisted him up, then turned him around so he was facing him as he pushed him back. Tucking his riding crop under his arm he then leaned his forearm and hip into the other man to support him against the bar while he reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a small jar. "I figured you'd be needing this, but was hoping you were made of better stuff to be able to go without. Seems I was half wrong."

As if in response, Tony suddenly lurched forward into Holmes and made a horrible sound as he gagged by the detective's face. Holmes froze and stared at him a little startled. "Sorry. Thought I was gonna puke there for a moment." Stark said as he rested his forehead on Holmes' shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut tight. He won't do it. He wouldn't do it. The smell is bad but he won't puke on Holmes, he won't. That'll destroy any chances he might have with him if he does anything that attractive. This is so humiliating... he slid his head in closer to Holmes.

Holmes blinked. He stood there for a moment contemplating how bad the air must really be, when he heard Stark moan by his neck and realized with an unreasonable streak of fear that the man was nuzzling and sniffing him -- and seeming to enjoy it. Within an instant later he pushed him back then opened the jar and stuck a finger into the goo inside before raising it to Tony's face. He cleared his throat. "Now, if you would please tilt your head back Mr. Stark."

Tony did as best he could and Holmes smeared his finger over the man's mustache, around his nostrils and even a little bit inside them.

"There. Now take a deep breath and tell me how that feels."

Stark breathed in. Then again. And again. Each time seemed to bring himself more to his senses, as the odor of the room was replaced with a strong and more powerful scent of camphor. It was nice and surprisingly effective. "Mmm, that's much better." Stark opened his eyes and found himself staring directly into Holmes's dark orbs. It didn't take him long to notice -- without looking--how his body was pressed against the detectives. "Much, much better." He purred, then winked.

"Good." Holmes gave a curt nod and quickly released his hold and moved away, walking further into the room as if nothing happened. Stark felt a little hurt when Holmes moved so abruptly away, (especially as his hands were raising up to pull him into a tight embrace) but shrugged it off now growing so use to the other man's lack of intimacy.

But if Stark was anything, he was persistent. And he was finally going to feed his hunger by taking this man before the day was out, by god. He had waited long enough.

Tony rolled his shoulders back and did his best to fix his appearance quickly and promptly decided to forget his little stint and move back to being his same old lovable self. When Tony turned to catch up to Holmes, he took a good look around the room. It wasn't really at all what he had expected; it looked like a barn. He had imagined something a little better than this dump. It was about as stunning as the streets outside.

The white paint was peeling off the walls and wooden support beams and he noticed the entire floor was covered in gravel. So, this is what he likes, Tony thought to himself. Well alright then. If this is suppose to scare me off the scent he'll have to try harder. I like the rugged type. I want him any way.

He did live in a cave for four months so the appearance wasn't as startling to him as he bet Holmes wanted it to be.

Their was a small closed ring in the middle where he didn't need to be told what that was used for. He felt himself get unnaturally excited at the thought of what goes on in this place when Holmes is in there: him, standing in there with his chest heaving. Body wet and shining with perspiration. Muscles tense and flexing. Eyes dancing alive like fire, pupils dilated. Adrenaline raging. His opponent bloodied and broken at his feet. The crowd's cries and bangs going near out of control for a chance to get their hands on him...

And strangely enough, that's when Tony noticed something rather unusual. He looked around. "Oh wow. There's nobody here."

A few steps ahead Holmes' body visibly stiffened and his walking faltered momentarily. Within seconds he regained himself and started moving again. Without turning around he sniffed sharply and said "Allow me to congratulate you on a brilliant bit of deduction."

Stark quirked an eyebrow at him.

"I take it you're not surprised by this news. Does this happen all the time to you when you enter a room, or am I not the only one who thinks this place could do with a deep cleansing and air fresheners?" He looked to the side of Holmes face and saw a smile forming there. But it wasn't one of humor.

Then it hits Tony. It hits him hard like a punch to the chest. He falls behind Holmes and nearly comes to a stop as he watches the other man continue to move around the edge of the ring. He eyes Holmes carefully.

"Wait a minute. You planned this whole thing in advance, didn't you? You somehow arranged for this place to be empty--maybe knowing when it's closed for the day--and lured me here to get me all by yourself. Now, normally I'd be flattered with the gesture, cause I'm sure you went through a lot of trouble for it. But you took me here, of all places. Gets me wondering."

"What's wrong, Mr. Stark? Afraid?" Holmes turned his head slightly to look at Tony, a clear twinkle of delight in his eyes.

"That all depends." He took a few more calculated steps forward, eyes never leaving Holmes' face. "If this is for a social visit, and for your own reasons you thought this would be the best place to buddy up, then no. But if my life is in danger I can assure you I am low enough to start screaming like a sissy girl and throwing all this gravel at you as fast as I can."

Holmes reached a certain part of the ring and placed both hands on the top part of the wall. He pulled and the walls swung out like doors. When they were fully open he spun on his heels in Stark's direction and, with an amused look on his face he stared at him with those eyes that seemed to command him to 'come here'.

Tony felt his heart stop for a moment when the doors opened which caused him to let out the smallest of gasps. He put a hand over his arc reactor and slid a few steps to the side so as not to be as close to that ring anymore. He really felt trapped again like in Afghanistan as a wave of dread came over him. He knew he could not beat this man in a fight, and his suit was not close by. So he had to do the next best thing in his arsenal; talk it off.

"Oh, whoa hey. Now I don't know why we're here, really I don't. But it seems that I have somehow pissed you off which would never be my intention, especially if you knew how much I do like you. I would never do anything on purpose, so if this is about your friend Watson--"

"Do not even bring him up. This has nothing to do with him and your... intentions... towards his honor." Holmes said a little more loudly than perhaps needed.

"Oh really?"

"Of course."

"I'm not so sure about that."

"And why ever not?"

"Because you think that's what I was going to say about him."

"And were you?"

"Absolutely not."

Holmes paused. "You're a horrible liar, you know that?"

"Yes, I do. Now why are we here?"

"Can't you guess?"

"No, and I already said I don't know. If it's not because of Watson--"

"It isn't."

"Then I haven't the foggiest idea what you want!"

"Come over here."

"Hell no."

"Mr. Stark--"

"Not until you tell me why or buy me a drink first."

"It's because of you."

Tony frowned and raised and unbelieving eyebrow. "It's because of me you brought me here? Sure. That's makes a lot of sense. Care to elaborate?"

"Certainly." Holmes took a dramatic pause and then stared at Tony intently. "It's because you fascinate me. Nearly everything about you and your glorious artificially intelligent armor. And aside from the fact that you are well to do in the future, own your own company, a genius with a keen intellect in mechanics, science, physics and mathematics, lost both your parents far sooner than someone at your age should, used to deal with weaponry but all that changed through a life-threatening experience -- most likely to do with that glowing torch in your chest, had someone whom you had thoroughly trusted for years betray you in the worst way so now has a hard time trusting anyone anymore -- aside from a lady who works closely with you, and considers yourself a hero of some sort who thinks far too well of himself I know nothing about you."

Tony's mouth fell open and he stared blankly at the man before him. He knew the man was good at deducing people but holy shit. This... this was flat out scary -- although it did make him all the more attractive and appealing to him.

He blinked several times and tried to form words as to how the hell he figured all that out from just his appearance. He hadn't told them hardly anything!

But before he could utter a syllable Holmes raised a hand to stop him.

"Please, let me finish. We do not have long before the actual matches start, and I do not want to spend most of it explaining how I know what I know. Or," He waved a hand at Stark. "Trying to get a group of rowdy men to casually understand why my companion's chest is glowing like a star."

Well, that certainly made sense. "Okay. But I'm not letting this go. You're going to tell me eventually, even if I have to bring it up every three minutes like a goddamn egg timer."

"Fair enough. Anyway. As I was saying, apart from those few things you are a complete mystery to me. And since it seems logical that you built that machine to use for the sake of others -- for I hardly believe you are that narcissistic -- it started to get me to wonder what else you yourself are capable of. In this instance; fighting. That suit of yours undoubtedly keep you safe, so I believe on more than a few occasions you have needed to engage in hand-to-hand combat. Is that a correct assumption?"

"Uhh..." Tony didn't know how to answer that, because he built the Iron Man suit with a whole slew of weapons stored in it that the need for actually fist fighting would hardly ever be necessary. He barely knew the first rules of physical fighting, and he -- although somewhat reluctantly -- told Holmes promptly that.

It didn't seem to shock Holmes at all. Instead, the light in his eyes actually got brighter from the small confession. "As I figured. But you know a little?"

"I know that if you throw a fist you hope it lands somewhere effective. I have been known to come out on top with instances like that, sure."

"Alright. Then let us see what you are capable of."

"Okay-- wait, what?"

"I want to see what you already know, and possibly I might be able to help you perfect it a little more." Holmes stepped to one side and stuck out his hand toward the entrance to the ring.

Stark felt a little sick again. "Ah, I don't know about this."

"Oh pah! I promise I'll be gentle with you. Now, if you please, time is of the essence."

Tony hesitated for an alternative plan, and although he came up with a few, he could tell -- by the look on Holmes' face -- that not a single one of them would work. His fate was sealed the moment he agreed to go with Holmes in the first place. He resigned himself to what lay ahead. He hesitantly walked up to those doors like an inmate taking his final walk down death row. When he reached Holmes he turned and raised a finger.

"But you really promise to be gentle with me? I bruise so easily you know, and I don't think Jarvis will take very kindly to you if anything bad should happen to me. I probably won't be able to control him if he goes on a revenge spree."

Holmes smiled. "You have my word as a gentleman that I will be as careful with you as I would a lady."

Stark leveled his eyes at him for that last part. "I feel better already." Then smiled and stuck out his hand the same way as Holmes was, and said "After you."

Holmes gave a slight bow and briskly walked in to the middle of the ring. Tony watched him for a moment than followed. After barely making three steps in, however, Holmes said "Mr. Stark, would you be so kind as to close the doors?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Sure, because someone is going to bombard us and want to join in unless we shut the doors. It is so crowded in here after all." He grabbed them both and swung them closed.

The moment he heard them click shut, something collided into his back and roughly pushed him against the doors. He let out a startled cry as he was pressed hard into the wooden wall and his hands were pinned in front of him. He was squished.

Holmes's head popped into view as he brought his mouth next to Tony's ear. Tony trembled as he felt the man's breath ghost over the sensitive area. When he tried to move a little Holmes pushed even harder into him which caused Stark to close his eyes and groan. If this is what the fighting was going to be like, then he wouldn't have taken so much time to get to this point already.

Holmes then spoke, "Rule #1: Never let your guard down, even around someone whom you know well and thoroughly trust. Understood?"

"Whatever you say, just fucking move already." Tony moaned in a gruff voice as his blood rushed down to his groin. He started to move against him when all of a sudden, as quickly as it had come, Holmes pushed himself away. Tony immediately missed the contact and opened his eyes to look disappointingly at Holmes who was already at the other side of the ring.

Frustrated, Stark shoved himself away from the wall and turned to Holmes. "Look, when I said to 'move already', I didn't mean 'away'."

"Oh, I know what you meant." Holmes studied him for a moment, then turned his head. "Now if you please, take off your hat, jacket, vest and shirt. You wouldn't want them to get ruined during this."

"Oh, so now you care about what happens to my clothes? I never took you for that kind of guy."

Holmes tilted his head down and looked at him.

"If you can recall you are wearing my clothes. The only outfit that is yours is of the red and gold kind which I suggest should not be worn out in public. Now if you would please start taking them off, the sooner we may begin." Holmes stated as he took off his hat and laid it on the wall's edge along with his riding crop.

Stark raised his arms a little and dropped them dramatically to his sides. That was the most analytical way of telling him to take his clothes off. It felt like he was either being instructed by a schoolteacher or a robot.

Too bad for Holmes it didn't turn him off. He grabbed his jacket and started to shrug out of it. When it was halfway off he looked up, and froze.

(TBC)