The One with the Third Brother

by Alayne Hill

John thinks he's come to know the Holmeses brothers quite well by now, but suddenly he finds himself face to face with a third Holmes genius, who comes crawling back from oblivion just to see how this "friendship" thing is working for his little brother. Actually, Sherlock thinks, he seems a bit *too much* interested in the good doctor. Fluff, humor, Johnlock UST.

1. Chapter 1

The One With the Third Brother.

Chapter One

John Watson ran out of the tube station and into the pouring rain, jogging towards Baker Street as fast as he could without giving the impression to be desperate to get out of the rain and inside a cozy and warm house. He reached 221B and pushed the front door open, shaking off his soaked coat and passing a hand through his short wet hair. The only source of light came from upstairs, barely illuminating the staircase and the hall where he was standing. He glanced at the door to Mrs. Hudson's apartment, but the absence of light from underneath the frame told him that she was not in.

He sighed and shook his wet and cold self one last time before climbing up the stairs, wondering in what state he would find his former housemate. Probably wrapped in his lab coat, covered in stinky and weird looking substances from his latest experiment.

He slowly opened the door to the apartment, taking a few steps in. The living room looked quite the usual, which in this case meant that the floor and furniture were almost completely covered with books and other "it's for an experiment" stuff. The only two elements that had apparently been left untouched by the mess were the two armchairs in the center of the room that faced each other.

John took a deep breath in and walked into the room, looking for his friend. Since he clearly wasn't in the living room the doctor turned towards the kitchen, where a tall man was standing in front of the sink, filling the kettle. He was dressed in an elegant dark blue suit, his dark curls replaced by straight locks that fell just half an inch from the collar of his jacket.

John remained silent for a moment, taking in the sight of those broad shoulders and long legs clasped in expensive – and rather tight – fabric. He snapped out of it quickly enough, mentally slapping himself. He was not attracted by his best friend. He was straight, and married.To a woman.

He cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back, straightening up as he spoke. "Evening Sherlock… Did you cut your hair?" he bit his lip as the question left his mouth – where did that come from? He didn't give a damn if his friend had decided to change look. Right?

The tall man's shoulder shook as he let out a chuckle, and as he turned to face him, John gasped and let his mouth fall open, eyes wide.

"I'm afraid I'm not the man you are looking for, my friend" His voice was deep, his accent vaguely American, and his bright green eyes were sparkling with humor.

John was too shocked to speak. That man definitely wasn't Sherlock, but the resemblance was so astonishing that he had to close his eyes and silently count to ten before opening them again.

The man was still there, still not Sherlock, but looking painfully like him. An older version of Sherlock, perhaps in his late 40s.

"I.." John mumbled, trying to compose himself. "I'm sorry. I didn't know Sherlock had a visitor" he tried to push back the shock and act normally. "I'm John. John Watson" he offered his right hand to the stranger, forcing a smile.

This is so weird. He thought.

The stranger smiled broadly, a flash of perfect white teeth. "Ah, the great Doctor Watson! I've heard so much about you, old sport" he shook his hand enthusiastically.

John nodded, frowning. "Ah.. Good. And you would be?"

The man was still holding John's right hand in his own, while his left hand went to pat the doctor's shoulder, still smiling like a child on Christmas day. John was growing more and more uncomfortable by the second.

"I am a bit disappointed, old sport, I thought my identity would have been obvious to you"

Before he could reveal his identity though, the voice of the one and only consultant detective boomed through the kitchen, evidently annoyed.

"Get your filthy hands off John Watson, Sherrinford!"

Just a quick note: I started this fanfiction drawn by a sudden and powerful inspiration, mainly because my best friend and I really want to know more about this mysterious third brother and hope that we'll see him soon enough in the show. Anyhow, consider it an experiment, I will be more than happy to continue it if you guys like it, so please review!