Sherlock Holmes sits in his London flat, fingers steepled, when a tall, robed figure enters. His piercing grey eyes hold wisdom beyond years. Gandalf the Grey.
“You are Sherlock Holmes,” Gandalf states. “I seek your mind for a most perplexing mystery.”
Holmes smirks. “An artifact stolen, perhaps?”
Gandalf nods gravely. “The One Ring. Vanished from Mount Doom after Sauron’s fall. It cannot return.”
Holmes rises. “Curious. Such power—stolen? By whom?”
A deep voice rumbles behind them. Darth Vader.
“The Force led me here,” he intones. “A disturbance in power.”
Holmes, intrigued, paces. “A stolen ring, a cosmic imbalance… Tell me, wizard, who last touched it?”
“A hobbit,” Gandalf replies.
Holmes’ eyes gleam. “And if power seeks power… where would it go?”
A golden shimmer flickers—Doctor Strange steps through a portal. “You’re all looking in the wrong dimension.”
Holmes exhales. “Then, gentlemen, it seems we must expand our search beyond worlds.”
Gandalf grips his staff. “Indeed. The adventure begins.”
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