Summary: Post-Reichenbach. John receives a visitor with a story to tell. A story about the reason behind why seven year old Claudette screamed after seeing Sherlock during The Reichenbach Fall. Features a vaguely familiar original character.

Author's Note: Hello! This is my first Sherlock story. It is fully complete with four chapters and will be updated daily. Beta'ed by my wonderful mother, GW, and amazing friend, EH. We are all from California, so pardon the Americanisms.
Reviews are love and cookies and I welcome ideas and suggestions. Thank you for reading. :)

EDIT: Now I know with the new season the character I'm going to introduce should be dead, but I like a happy ending so here it is.

Doppelganger by GraceW

Chapter 1

Doctor John Watson stumbled to his tiny kitchen, half asleep and craving a hot cup of tea. The September morning had a damp chill as the new day sun peaked through the trees. The breeze stirred up the wet leaves on the street and the giggles of schoolchildren met his ears. His sparse flat was small and dull, a single black chair stood in the corner nearest the window. Other than the small table and a bookcase, the room was unadorned, no fireplace with a skull on the mantel, no chemistry experiments on the table or fingers in the fridge. No Sherlock.

John had moved out of 221B Baker Street two and a half months ago. He was sure that Mycroft Holmes still paid the rent, leaving the flat as it was, except empty of the life that had once occupied it. The doctor assumed they would go through their old flat eventually, so that Mrs. Hudson would be able to have another renter, but it was too soon.

Kettle boiled, tea brewed and paper opened, John sat down in his chair. Life was starting to move on. He still found himself expecting to see Sherlock around the corner, but John had to begin working again. His therapist assured him that if he filled his days with helping others, he would be able to move on more quickly.

John's new employer expected him next week, and although he was a bit nervous, he almost looked forward to it. He had been alone with his thoughts for far too many days. Wondering if he would be able to handle the stress and workload, he sipped at his tea.

A knock on the door interrupted his pondering. Confused, as he rarely had guests, he begrudgingly stood up to check the door. What he saw when he opened it nearly gave him a heart attack.

Sherlock.

No, it wasn't, of course it couldn't be. His old flatmate was three months dead. Taking a second look, John realized this man was younger, with short cropped blond hair, blue eyes and slightly fuller features. Aside from that, this young man was the spitting image of the late Sherlock Holmes.

The young man looked hesitant, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to be there. "Dr. Watson?"

"Yes, that's me." John stood straight, eyeing his visitor with a calculating stare.

"Sir, my name is Benedict Carlton. I was wondering if I could have a few minutes of your time. There's something I have to tell you."


3 months earlier

The youth was perfect. An absolute dream. The tall thin frame, the eyes, the cheekbones. This made the consulting criminal pleased. The youth would do well. Another piece to play within the chess board that would bring an end the final problem. Game. Set. Match.


Ben Carlton's mobile beeped, signaling an incoming call from an unknown number. Probably wrong number or advertisement. The tall blond rolled his eyes and tried juggling the books in his arms as he walked across the campus green to his first class of the day. He was going to be late for Advanced Astrophysics, so the call could wait. One thing at a time. Email after project after paper after presentation after more studying. He really needed a break, and a holiday somewhere with a beach and an unlimited supply of beer sounded just perfect.

The most dangerous thing for Ben until that day in June was caffeine overdose and lack of sleep while studying for exams. As a physics student in graduate school at King's College London, he knew all about the late nights studying and lab time required to keep his scholarships and pass his classes. His life was rather ordinary and plain otherwise, mixed with the usual student life activities: a large group of friends, cross-country runner, a beautiful fiancée, two little brothers and a cat.

However, he would look back and attest to how much a phone call can change someone's life.

Four hours of classes, labs and research later found Ben sitting alone at a study table, munching on a sandwich and reviewing presentation notes. His phone rang again. Frowning, the young man begrudgingly answered. "Hello?"

"Hello Ben." The male voice was unfamiliar.

"Yes…Who is this?"

"I'm a specialist. However, I need you for something. A little acting job, you could say."

"Acting? The theatre department is on the other side of campus; I think they are open nine to five. Thanks, but I've got-"

"Sorry, no. You're the one I need. Do you know what a doppelganger is, Ben?"

"Means that you could be a spitting image of someone else. I saw it on Doctor Who once."

"Yes, you could." The man's voice dropped theatrically. "There is a box on the bench near your next class with your name on it. In it you will find some supplies.

"I'm being pranked again, yeah? I hope whoever put you up to this is going to buy you a drink. So I'm going to have to say no. Thanks, though." Ben moved to hang up.

"How is Kendra?" The stranger spoke softly, but his tone of voice somehow made Ben freeze, his heart unconsciously dropping into his stomach.

"Kendra? She's fine. Who are you?" Ben gripped the phone tighter.

"Well, with the wedding thirty-two days away and her nine weeks along with Benny Junior, I was worried about her." Ben could almost imagine the sinister grin on the other side of the line. Ben's phone beeped with an incoming picture message. It was Kendra, dressed in her dark blue scrubs and at the hospital, with her hair pulled up in the exact same style as it had been that morning. According to the time stamp, the picture had been taken twenty minutes ago.

"How did you-" Anger began building as Ben leaned forward in his chair. How dare this man mention his fiancée? How did he know she was pregnant? She wasn't showing, their doctor appointment was last Monday. They hadn't even told their parents.

"And William and Timothy? How do they like their freshman years at Oxford? How are your parents? Still living in Brentwood?" A slight pause and the man continued. "These people, boring as they may be, are your whole life. Am I wrong? I would not mind leaving them alone, but I get bored, you see. How do you prefer? Gun shot. Knife to the pregnant belly. Car accident. I could get more creative if you like."

"What?!" By this time Ben was a mix of confused, scared and furious. "Who the hell are you?!"

"My name is Jim Moriarty."

"What do you want?" Ben put his hand on his forehead, not hiding his nerves as well as he thought.

"You to do exactly as I say."


TBC...