Please note that I have taken the liberty of moving up the publication dates of certain works of literature so that for the purposes of this story, they were published prior to 1888.

A note on my choices of orthography and vocabulary: To the best of my ability, I have tried to use the spelling and vocabulary choices appropriate to the locale of each part of the story. You may therefore see a word such as realize/realise spelled in two different ways within this story, or a particular type of abode referred to as an "apartment" in one part of the story and a "flat" in another part. Not to mention the presence or the absence of the period (full stop) after hono(u)rifics such as “Mr” or “Mrs.” My apologies if I have made any solecisms with regard to British language usage.

My thanks to my BRs Corrina (Female Hawk) and Iolanthe whose suggestions have greatly improved the story and have saved me from publishing some silly typos and embarrassing errors. My thanks, as well, to my BFF Margot who is not an LnC fan but who BR-ed the story for me anyway and who ferreted out some additional boo-boos. Any errors that still remain are, of course, my own.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from either the Lois and Clark or the Sherlock Holmes universes. In addition to borrowing characters from both universes, I have also freely borrowed phrases here and there from each of these universes. No copyright infringement is intended. This work is strictly for entertainment purposes and is not for profit.

All feedback welcome.

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The Case of the Flying Man
By Lynn S. M.
Rated PG for mild sexual innuendo
Submitted April, 2010
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Prologue

Lois Lane was not the Planet's best investigative reporter for nothing. And right now, she was conducting an investigation of her favorite subject - her husband; a very hands-on investigation. In point of fact, she and Clark were snuggling on the sofa and conducting research upon each other. Clark's hands were just about to begin their own undercover assignment preparatory to a very personal expose of his wife when she pulled back suddenly.
Clark's expression rapidly changed from one of desire mixed with delight to one of concern.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

"I don't know. I just feel odd; kind of like the pins and needles of a foot waking up after being asleep, only it’s my whole bod--"

Lois never had the chance to finish that last sentence. Before she could do so, the world seemed to go transparent around her and she felt herself vanish into nothingness.

***

Clark became increasingly panicked as he watched Lois’ body grow ever more transparent until she had disappeared entirely. He frantically called out his wife's name, but received no response. He opened all of his senses, but could neither see nor hear her anywhere. He could still feel her warmth from where she had been sitting on the sofa beside him, but it was not enough to stave off the cold chill of fear that suddenly permeated him. He was just about to spin into his suit so he could search for her, when he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

He raised his voice to call through the door as he hurried to answer it. "Lois? You really had me worried there! What happened?" He flung open the door; but to his great disappointment, Lois was not the person on the other side.

"Ah, Mr. Kent. Quite. I take it from what you were saying that something has happened to Miss Lane? Did she just disappear?"

It took all of Clark's restraint not to grab H.G. Wells by his lapels. "Exactly. What do you know of this? Where and when is she, and how do we get her back?"

"Oh dear. It isn't quite as simple as that. She isn't precisely anywhere or anywhen now. I'll try to explain. May I come in?"

Clark opened the door wider and gestured for Mr. Wells to be seated on the sofa where he and Lois had been so pleasantly engaged mere minutes earlier. "What do you mean she isn't exactly anywhere or anywhen? What happened to her? How do we get her back?"

"Well now, you see, it appears that Tempus has taken to a more subtle attempt at manipulating history to try to keep the two of you apart. As you know, he had not been successful in killing you when you were a baby to prevent your and Lois’ descendents from ushering in Utopia. This time, he appears to have travelled back to Victorian England and influenced a notorious murderer known as 'Jack' into killing a certain young lady by the name of Charlotte Dodgson."

"A serial killer known as 'Jack'? As in 'Jack the Ripper'? What does that have to do with Lois?"

"Yes, that is the full name which history has bestowed upon him. In time, you see, Charlotte would have become the great, great grandmother of Miss Lane. Unfortunately, in the newly revised timeline, Jack met with her before she became a mother. By killing her, he also eliminated all of the descendents she should have had; including, I am afraid, your own dear wife."

Clark grasped onto the one hope provided by Well’s explanation. "So, all we have to do is go back in time and prevent Jack from killing Charlotte, and then Lois will be restored?"

"In theory, yes. But remember that the timeline is a very fragile thing. We must not do anything ourselves which will change the timeline in other fashions."

"But wait a minute...I thought that Jack the Ripper only killed prostitutes. Surely Lois' great, great grandmother wasn't a prostitute?"

Wells blushed at the straightforward term Clark used to describe such an indelicate occupation. "Oh dear me. I would certainly hope not; but I do not know anything more about her than what I have told you, and that Jack killed her on December 13, 1888."

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's get into your time machine and stop him!"

"My dear boy, you may wish to change into attire more appropriate for the times; your current attire would draw almost as much attention in my time as your Superman suit would here."

Clark thought for a moment, spun into the aforementioned suit, and raced out of his home. Within minutes, he had returned with an outfit which he had rented from a downtown costume shop. Although Wells, who had, after all, lived in the relevant era, realized that the outfit’s cut would not look authentic upon close inspection, he deemed it good enough for their purposes. After Clark had changed into the Victorian style suit, the two of them made their way to Wells' time machine and thence to late 19th century London.

"Ah, it is good to be home; I just wish it were under better circumstances. I had set the chronolocator to December 10th, 1888, to permit us a few days to determine precisely where and when Jack will strike so that we can intercept him. But I think that we would do well to enlist the help of my country's first and foremost consulting detective."