Holmes is RDJ. Sherlock is Benedict Cumberbatch.
"Who are you?" Holmes asks as he stares at the other man's neat black suit and black dress shirt.
"Sherlock Holmes," he says pulling out a gun. "I do believe I need to ask you the same question as well. Why are you here and who are you?"
Holmes shrugs, "either we have the same name or…"
"The dimensions crashed through the crack of wall, and the Doctor simply seemed to have messed up something in the universe causing two same people in different dimensions to meet each other, quite intriguing, don't you think Mr. Holmes?" The other man finish, gun still in hand. He blinks innocently at the man. "1890?"
"Um…yes," he tries to sound not too confused at this. He searches man's weird choice of clothing. "Around the… 21st century?"
"Indeed,"
"Impressive."
"Thank you,"
"I wasn't complementing you."
"I wasn't thanking you either."
Holmes stops. They sound like bickering idiots.
"I suppose you should drop your gun now, should I say… Mr. Sherlock," Holmes nods to the sleek weapon in the man's hand. Comparing to the small pistol weighing in his pocket, there is no way he will win the other detective in a gun fight. But a fist fight… perhaps…
Not the time, Watson suddenly pops in his mind. Fist fights are not the time for anything, I can't believe I'm getting around with you like this. Holmes suddenly had the urge to see what this man's Watson looks like. Maybe later.
"There's no need for the weapon Mr. Sherlock, I'm completely-" he takes out his hands, indicating that he's unarmed but the younger man still holds out his hand. "K49 Calibre pistol please," he asks, face emotionless.
Holmes scowls and hopes he had the most disdain expression pasted on his face as he hands over the gun. The young man unlocks the ammo compartment and dumps out the bullets, pocketing them gingerly. He gives his pistol back to him, on the other hand also putting away his own.
"We haven't properly introduced ourselves yet," Holmes says, glowering at his blank artillery.
"Well, I do know your name is Sherlock Holmes, you're from the 19th century judging by your clothes, constantly goes to fist fights, work out is not bad, however health, that's another situation. You tend to miss a lot of meals, likes to work in the dark and rarely cares about hygienic problems, only shaves around… twice or three times a week judging on how you feel that time, and… constantly likes to jump out of windows," the younger man concludes. He looks like he is about to continue his rant about him but Holmes quickly holds out a hand.
"Well, Mr. Sherlock, 21st century impersonator of mine, too young," he sniffs, "and too bold. I'm the older one of you and I know plenty about you too," he declares. He starts off as slow. "Unmarried, considered married to work, ah asexual! Now that's new!" He starts to pick up speed. "Used to do drugs, nicotine patches up your arm, smoking problems. Your flatmate, John Watson, is currently married and you're living alone but you're not used to it, considering going back to drugs, not a good choice and yet you seem to find boredom very agonizing, like me, seeing the bullet holes on your wall. Nice smily face by the way. The company of the spray paint… Sherwin-Williams? Been around for quiet a time I see." The young man raises an eyebrow. "Yep, I'm correct." Holmes grins cheekily at the man in front of him.
"Well, looks like we know plenty about each other, judging by the fact we are the same person just in different dimensions," Sherlock smiles cooly. He does not like being tied.
"Ah, not really," Holmes butts in, "I have a dog that's still alive."
"Despite the multiple experiments you've tested on him," the younger Holmes finish.
Holmes smiles. "Not bad,"
"How did you get here?"
"Through the door,"
Sherlock rolls his eyes. "Apart from that,"
"Well, I was going out my door for a case,"
"Perfect, you used the door for the first time,"
Holmes glares at him for a good measure before continuing. "I opened the door and found myself at the bottom of your flat. When I realized where I was, I tried going back but the door seem to reveal a street. It is Baker Street but not the Baker Street I knew. Therefore I concluded, supernatural."
Sherlock lapses into silence.
"The only way to go back is to probably wait for the exact time tomorrow and go through the door. That should lead you back to your world," Sherlock says.
"So I'm going to stay at your flat for 24 hours," Holmes mumbles, throwing himself onto John's chair. "Brilliant,"
Sherlock's expression remained passive. "John's going to come back soon," he says, "I say we shall choose different names, it will be quite difficult for him to tell between us when he visits today,"
Holmes looks at him up and down before saying, "Very well, I'm William and you're Scott,"
"Not bad," Sherlock makes a face.
eight minutes later…
"Sherlock, did you get the milk today?" John asks .
Sherlock frowns at him. "I'm Scott and he's William," Sherlock deadpans.
"Ah ha, very funny Sherlock," John says sarcastically. "No seriously, who is this?"
"Sherlock Holmes, from the 1890s,"
"Sorry what?"
"The Doctor seemed to have opened the crack in the wall again,"
"The Doctor? That mad man?"
"Yes,"
"So now you're…"
"Scott,"
"And he's William, yeah right, got that part, … Scott,"
"Not a problem John,"
"So I really have to call you Scott now?"
"Yes,"
"Why can't he be William and you be Sherlock?"
"That won't be fair," Holmes pips up from the other end of the room.
John rolls his eyes, "Fine. Scott, did you get the milk today?"
"No,"
John throws up his hands in defeat. "Is God punishing me today?"
"Maybe," Holmes says, "if you got the milk by yourself, I wouldn't be here,"
"Or you got the milk and he's still here," Sherlock says.
John feels like punching both Sherlocks in the face. "I'm going to my room," he says, "you two got each other anyway. Go on some crime scene together." He starts for the door. "Oh, and NO EXPERIMENTS!" John shouts, pointing at the two men still in the living room.
"Of course…" John's door slams to a shut, "not," Sherlock finish.
Holmes laughs. "Now what?"