Chapter 1
Peter Quill blinked once. Then again. And once more, because why the hell not? The last time he remembered anything, he was - on Titan... and he had... oh god. He had lost it, and... it was all his fault. As usual. He spun around, and he was alone. He couldn't recall the last time he had actually been on his own. He crumpled his right hand into a fist and felt something inside. He slowly uncurled his hand and looked at the paper. He unrumpled it and squinted at the tiny font.
Sherlock Holmes
Consulting Detective
221 B Baker St.
London NW1 6XE
"London? What the fuck? Detective. Hmmm... maybe he could help, wouldn't hurt, I suppose." He tried to regain some sense of direction, but he was hopeless on terra firma, always had been. He stopped and looked at the buildings, and seemed to be standing in front of the very door he needed. He was about to reach for the knocker when the door flew open and a tall, dark haired man nearly ran him over. The man looked oddly familiar - Quill shook his head. It would come to him later.
"You weren't supposed to be here yet - ah well." The man growled at him, but softened his voice, as he took in Quill's frazzled state. "Talk to John, he's heard it all before - thing is, I'm a bit backed up at the moment, been a strange week -"
"Strange! That's who you look like!" The man threw on his long coat and pulled up his collar. "Especially with the collar thing -"
"So I've been told, I don't see it myself, but - listen, John will make you tea -" again he looked Quill over, and sighed sympathetically. "Or something stronger, perhaps. I do have to dash, I have an actual murder to solve, should be ridiculously simple compared to - never mind - just go up the seventeen steps and knock on the door. If you have any weapons, just leave them at 221A, she'll give them back when you leave - and if you happen to need to crash, there is a couch - you look a bit done in, if you don't mind me saying so?" He barely raised his hand, and a taxi appeared, as if by mag- no. Not magic. Quill had seen enough magic to last a lifetime. He blinked again as the man dropped elegantly into the taxi and was gone.
"Seventeen steps." He muttered, as he knocked on 221A.
"Yes, dear? Oh, my. Another one." She watched as he emptied his pockets into the basket she offered him. "John is upstairs. I'm assuming you saw Sherlock dashing out the door - poor boy has been run ragged ever since that Dr. Strange person showed up. At least today, he just has a double homicide to deal with."
Quill stared at her. "Strange has been here?"
"Oh yes, with his valet/sidekick, and that funny cloak of his. And then a lovely woman, fierce - carried a spear, Okoye, I think her name was, a general - she was searching for her king, who had disappeared right in front of her eyes - Wakanda... I'd never heard of it myself, and then... but... sorry, I do go on. Go ahead upstairs, John should be up, he could give you some tea - it's a bit early for something stronger, but it looks like you need it, dear."
"Uhm. Thank you?" He left her flat and walked up the steps, counting as he went, "Fifteen, sixteen, sevente -" He looked up to see a man standing in the doorway.
"Come on in, Peter, no, you prefer to be called Star-Lord, yes? I have the kettle on, but you've had a rough time of it, haven't you? I do have something a bit stronger, purely for medicinal purposes." He offered Peter his hand. "I'm John, please come in, we've been expecting you."