Hi. I apologise for the improbability of the parallel universe. I appreciate that it wouldn't happen in Who, but I needed a way for it to work.

I'm not Steven Moffat. I don't own any of this, apart from the plot and the aliens.

Enjoy!

Update: The lovely cumberlove4ever has translated this story into Polish! It's called Wizyta Doktora. Check it out; I noticed in the stats that some of the people who read this are Polish, so I'm just letting any new readers know. Please review, too, I'll translate them.

'So, where now?' Amy asked, as they came into the main control room of the TARDIS after a pleasant night's sleep.
'You'll see,' The Doctor replied mysteriously. 'Hold on tight!'

'Okay, Doctor, explain,' Rory said once the ship had stopped moving so violently.
'We're going to meet a friend of mine,' The Doctor replied. 'I assume you've heard of Sherlock Holmes?'
'But that's not possible, surely? He's just a fictional character!' Amy exclaimed; baffled.
'Don't let him hear you say that, ' The Doctor said with a grin. 'Basically, every now and again, a small, sort of ...bridge opens up between the parallel universes where he's a fictional character, and, well, the one where he's...'
'Not a fictional character?' Rory helped.
'Exactly! Sir Conan-Doyle must have had some sort of vortex manipulator, to jump between the present day in this dimension, and the 19th Century in the other, to write the books. It's all a bit wibbly wobbly, isn't it? I will have to look into that...' he trailed off, lost in thought for a moment, before quickly snapping back. 'Anyway, 221B Baker Street here we come!'

The Doctor rang the doorbell excitedly.
'Go away- I'm busy!' a voice shouted crossly, and there was an awkward silence before Mrs Hudson came to the door, smiling warmly.
'Doctor! I haven't seen you in ages!' she said, hugging him tightly.
'Yeah, it has been a long time... Is Sherlock having a moment?' he added worriedly, as they followed her up the stairs to the flat.
'Moment?!' she chuckled. 'It's been nearly two weeks now. No cases of any interest, apparently. Oh, I am glad you're here, Doctor, you can usually sort him out. Sorry, how rude of me! Who're your friends?'
'Err, I'm Amy.'
'And I'm Rory.' The couple said awkwardly.
'Lovely to meet you,' she replied, which made them slightly more comfortable. They had now reached the door of the flat, and Mrs Hudson pushed it hesitantly. 'Yoo hoo!' she called. 'Sherlock, it's The Doctor, Amy and Rory to see you.' The Doctor's first look at the detective showed a lot about what was going on. The skinny detective was stretched out on the sofa in his pyjamas and familiar navy-blue silk dressing gown, his hands under his chin as if he were praying; a mass of curly dark hair covering his closed eyes slightly. He obviously hadn't had a case in weeks. He either hadn't heard or had ignored Mrs Hudson (though it was probably the latter). 'Sherlock?' she tried again.
'Shut up, I'm thinking!' Sherlock shouted- although he loved Mrs Hudson, he was very clearly exasperated. But he had made the mistake of opening his eyes slightly as he spoke, catching a glimpse of the visitors. 'Oh, it's you!' he said, surprised. 'How was Charles II?'
'How...?' Amy and Rory began simultaneously, but, right on cue, John walked in, struggling with lots of heavy shopping bags.
'Next time, Sherlock, you are go… Oh. Hi. Haven't seen you in a while. How're things?' John inquired, heading into the kitchen to put away the groceries.
'Yeah, they're great. Uh, this is Amy and Rory...' The Doctor replied.
'Oh. Hi.' John repeated, as if noticing them for the first time. 'Sherlock, Greg called, they've found a body in Greenwich, and he thought you might be interested. '
'Excellent!' Sherlock stood up abruptly, his two week mood disappearing in a flash. He rushed into his bedroom to change, grinning at the prospect of a case. 'Are you three coming with me and John?' He asked when he returned, reaching for his long coat with the red buttonhole and navy-blue scarf.
'Wouldn't miss it for the world,' The Doctor smiled.

The group clambered out of the crowded cab at a secluded junkyard somewhere near Greenwich.
'Hello, Doctor, it's been a while,' Lestrade greeted them as they walked across the wasteland towards the crime scene. He turned to Sherlock. 'His name's Michael Smith, and he's twenty-nine, according to his cards and stuff...' The consulting detective then began to assess the scene, his brow furrowed in concentration, and the others stepped away a little to leave him to it. After a few minutes of waiting patiently (everyone knew by now not to interrupt the genius when he was thinking) Lestrade broke the silence as he came towards them. 'So, what have you got?' he asked expectantly.
'Like you said, aged twenty-nine, gun wound to the back of the head. '
'Is that it?' Greg said, apparently forgetting to try and hide his disappointment.
'No...' Sherlock replied, looking worried, which wasn't a common occurrence.
'Well, come on then!' Lestrade exclaimed impatiently. 'What're you waiting for?'
'Alright, alright! John, Doctor, come with me a second?' he said, walking swiftly back to the body with his friends, leaving Lestrade to shout after them, the Ponds attempting to calm him down. 'There's something wrong with this. Look, there. At the nape of his neck.' The Doctor, of course, noticed as quickly as Sherlock had, but it eventually had to be pointed out to John.
'Ahh...' he said, though he was just as confused as before. There were tiny copper wires, less than hairline thickness, intertwining and intersecting all around the young man's neck. On pulling his polo t-shirt up, the men discovered yet more strange wires; unnoticeable to the unobservant eye, and, of course, the police.
'Should we tell them?' John inquired, baffled by the recent turn of events.
'No. They'll only interfere.' Sherlock said dismissively.
'Hmm, better not. It'll only make things more complicated. We're okay to tell Amy and Rory though; they've seen this sort of stuff before.' The Doctor agreed, though much more politely.
'Are you saying its alien?' John asked. He felt like he was going to pass out. It was alright The Doctor being okay with these things, him being a thousand year old time traveller and all, but Sherlock seemed strangely... comfortable.
'Of course it is, don't be an idiot. Humans won't have this technology for hundreds of years yet!' the detective snapped impatiently, as if it were obvious.
'Yes, but what's it doing here?' he replied, feeling stupid.
'Well, I could be wrong, but I reckon there's a group of aliens close by trying to clone humans, and failing. Badly.' Sherlock said.
'Yeah... Noose, I'd expect. They've never been very clever. I'd expect part of the machine they're using is broken and sort of... singed into their bodies, like it's fused to the skin. These clones are made to be enslaved, but if they break away; deceive them, they kill them, and dispose of the evidence.' The Doctor agreed; looking somehow worried but ecstatic at the same time.
'Like you said then, they're idiots.' John said, finally grasping the concept.
'Well... yeah.' The Doctor said flatly. 'With better technology and experience, they could create them completely devoted their 'masters', but the stuff they're using's obviously a bit rubbish.'
'What I don't really understand is why they chose this planet,' Sherlock said, thinking aloud. Lestrade had now given up and joined Anderson and Sally on the other side of the Crime Scene, and the Ponds headed back over to the body to see what was going on. 'I don't see why you would pick here rather than some of the many planets better suited for cloning.' He added as The Doctor filled them in. This time, John wasn't so shocked to see them so unfazed.
'Thought the Solar System was 'rubbish' that only 'ordinary people' knew?' John smirked.
'Wrong. I never said the interesting things were rubbish. You were talking about the Sun, and the Earth. They're boring.'
'Okay, okay.' John sighed. He gave up. Sherlock was definitely extra-ordinary. Attempting to change the subject, he added: 'But surely that's illegal? Cloning people just to enslave, I mean.'
'Oh, of course- article 21, subsection B of the Shadow Proclamation Cloning Laws…' the Time Lord said, re-joining the conversation. 'The only real question is, what are we going to do about it?'
'Just hand them over to this 'Shadow Proclamation, of course!' John exclaimed.
'Yeah, well, we could do that…' The Doctor grinned, sounding like an excited five-year-old. 'But it would be a lot less fun!'

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