All credit for this AU goes to .com and this post( post/39767643784). I merely thought it was cool and wanted to see if I could write it. It'll probably get added to maybe, probably.
Sherlock Holmes sat at his desk by the window of 221B Baker Street. In his lap papers, photographs and photocopied sheets lay spilling or having been spilled from the desktop above. On the floor empty frames and books had been tossed aside and a constant rain of paper swam slowly to join them. Sherlock stared angrily from the screen of his computer to the disheveled sheets in each of his hands and the cluster that rested on the table before him.
"It doesn't make sense." He growled softly, and began sorting through the papers on his lap.
He looked up again and the laptop screen and examined the collage of open windows, each displaying a different scene. In each, a ridiculously happy man with a large nose and a ridiculous bow-tie danced, ran or fell over. He intrigued Sherlock.
"Still going on that case- what is it- the doppelgangers from the 60's?" John Watson entered the room and sat down on a large armchair covered in the gleam of the dwindling daylight.
"They are not doppelgangers John, and the historical evidence that we can actually obtain resolves that there was a presence of this man in the 30's, 60's, the 1800's, the 1500's, you name it." Sherlock shuffled the work on his desk.
John opened a newspaper.
"Do you ever think it could just be an English line who's children happen to look exactly like one and oth-"
"He is seen through the Americas, in Ancient Rome, all over Europe and for some reason he keeps turning up in Cardiff." Sherlock replied.
"An English line that enjoys travelling-" John tried again.
"No, John. The same man." Sherlock put down the papers and stared at a clip of the man smiling happily out of a black-and-white Laurel & Hardy show.
John sighed and shifted his eyes back to the newspaper.
"The same man appearing again and again throughout history... It isn't possible!" Sherlock swiftly stood up from the table and paced crossly back and forth in front of his desk.
John was exasperated. He looked at the window behind Sherlock; the curtains were swaying in the cool breeze from the night air that Baker Street had captured.
"Go to sleep, Sherlock." He ordered. "This case is...ridiculous. It's only doing your head in, and-and mine for that matter! Could you just drop it? For tonight at least."
Sherlock looked at John with pursed lips and a furrowed brow.
"Please."
Sherlock looked once more at the man with the big nose and ridiculous hat, then snapped the laptop shut with a flick. He began to turn away when a print-out regarding the man on his desk caught his eye.
"I think we need to visit Leadworth." He said.