Even while Stephen is wrangling the mindflayer (one of the many unsavoury duties Wong had pawned off on him), he's half-distracted wondering what might be awaiting him back at the Sanctum Sanctorum. And so his attention lapses enough that he sustains a cut along his temple, but the monster doesn't latch onto him and drain his sanity dry, so at least there's that— he eventually manages to magically wrestle it into a pocket dimension, seal the edges, and pinch off the wards. He tests the containment until he can't feel the tremors of it trying to escape any longer, its greedy tentacles grasping.

Job done, he dusts off his cloak and decides to portal back to the grand foyer with a twirl of his hand.

Back home on the metaphorical ranch, a golden window appears like it's carved out of thin air. It hisses and spits glowing light before opening, and then Doctor Strange, former Sorcerer Supreme, Master of the Mystic Arts, steps through.

Unfortunately, the Sanctum truly is flooded.

He takes one step out and, before he can catch himself, plummets downward. With a strangled yelp of surprise and flailing arms, he falls into the water. When he eventually manages to float himself back out, he's sodden and drenched: black hair plastered to his skull, red Cloak of Levitation hanging heavy from his shoulders and miserable, the cloak somehow managing to look like it's sulking.

He peers around. It's like when the blizzard blew through and the place was filled with snow, but now it's just water, an impossible ocean lapping at the grand curved staircase. The guest chairs are bobbing gently next to a floating credenza.

"Well, this is worse than I thought," he says.