The Goblin King's cloak swirled around him like a nightmare vision of blue sequins and loose skin. His gloved hands twirled in the air as the clock wound itself. He addressed the runner standing before him.

"You have thirteen hours to solve the Labyrinth before your John Watson becomes one of-"

Time slowed and stopped.

"Done," said Sherlock, smiling, John Watson standing suddenly beside him in the sandy plain.

The shock on the Goblin King's face was apparent. "But-wait. How did you-"

"Mind palace," said Sherlock, turning up the collar on his black coat, narrowing his eyes at his adversary.

"Mind... palace?"

"Your Labyrinth is a mind palace. Naturally all I had to do was deduce the correct translocational doorway and pull my friend out. Irritatingly simple, really, especially if one's a high-functioning sociopath."

"And that's about as much explanation as your likely to get," said John ruefully. Sherlock tucked John's arm under his.

"Ta," John added, over his shoulder as the couple walked away. "And thanks for the tea!"

The Goblin King was left standing there alone in the desert, the clock's hands stuck at two minutes past the hour. He raised his hands then dropped them in irritated confusion. His voice echoed across the windswept plain.

"What the fuck just happened?"


And that, I argue, ladies and gents, is the only Labyrinth/Sherlock crossover story plot that can ever exist. "Thirteen hours to-" "Done." "WTF?" "MIND PALACE."

Now that I've gotten the silly out of my system, I can go back to writing the other thing I'm writing.