This took a life of its own. I promise though... it will be smutty. Once you read, you'll know exactly what I have in mind.

Xxx

The laboratory was ginormous. While the endless tabletops filled with futuristic technology initially put Molly Hooper on edge, the pleasant smell of sterilization comforted her and reminded her of St. Bart's. Yet, as she pulled her jacket closer, she still wasn't sure why she was deep in an underground facility, trailing behind Sherlock and John.

The two men were bickering about something ridiculous (John was cranky that they hadn't stopped for breakfast as planned and Sherlock was being, well, Sherlock) when Mycroft Holmes strolled in. A literal army followed closely behind, occupying every inch of the facility.

Molly blinked, her mouth agape. Mycroft had brought the entire bloody British military along! Her stomach dropped, wondering what exactly Sherlock and John were being called in for.

And most of all, why in god's name am I here?!

Mycroft cleared her throat, causing John and Sherlock to end their bickering. The leading commander gave John a standard military greeting before looking to Mycroft for guidance.

Not every day you see a bloody military general taking orders from a suit like Mycroft Holmes.

"I'm sure you have many questions," Mycroft began, lowering his body onto one of the lab standard stools.

John practically gawked. "Yeah, you could say that again."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I can answer most of them. You've developed a new technology that is still in the testing stage. It's rather dangerous and obviously a state secret, hence your bloody force. Someone wants it and evidently has access to it. My job is now to stop that," He looked at Mycroft with a growing glint in his eyes, "John is here to assist me. However, I am unable to figure two things out. The first, of course, is what this technology is."

His gaze shifted over to Molly, who had practically burrowed herself into a corner. "The second is why Molly was asked to tag along."

Mycroft gave a slow clap. "Splendid, brother mine. Say, does your need to show off ever dwindle with age? I thought by age thirty-six you'd be over the theatrics by now."

Sherlock's lip quirked. "Answer my questions and I won't discuss your own dramatics."

His older brother practically yawned, although he kept his eyes on Sherlock "Very well. Everything discussed in this room is not to leave it. Is that understood?"

It was not an exaggeration to say that every eye in the room shifted to John Watson. At the attention, he gasped.

"What? Why the bloody hell would I tell anyone?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Many reasons. Spilled accidently when loosened with liquor. Disclosed on the blog in a bid for more circulation. To pick a woman up at a pub. The list could go on."

Molly moved out of her corner and scowled. "Enough! Tell us Mycroft."

He smirked at Molly's boldness. "Very well. For the past fifteen years, with the assistance of both American and French scientists, we have been developing a new biotechnology with DNA fragments. At the present—"

Sherlock moved to interrupt him, his eyes alight with excitement, his mouth ready to spit out a deduction. However, Molly beat him to the chase.

"Molecular cloning. Have you done it?" She was surprised by her own voice.

Mycroft offered a curt nod. Sherlock began to shift from one foot to the next, clearly beyond excited.

"My god. You've done it. You've successfully cloned something. What are we talking about? Rats?" He paused, until his mouth dropped further, "Organs?"

Mycroft nodded again. "Clever, you are Sherlock."

"So, there's black market interest, yeah?" Molly began again, blushing under everyone's expectant gazes. "Someone wants to sell cloned organs. Illegally harvested organs go for exorbitant amounts of money on the black market."

Sherlock blinked and looked to her, clearly surprised by her own knowledge. He swallowed and looked back to Mycroft. "Is this the case? How has this become public knowledge? Surely you and the brilliant sods upstairs have kept this under lock and key."

Mycroft narrowed his eyes. "We have, my dearest brother. But it appears that someone in our staff is either involved in illicit activities, or easily bought with a lot of money."

Molly swallowed and began to speak again, still blushing fiercely under the harsh lights of the laboratory. "Organ procurement is a hot topic, Mycroft. Are you sure you don't have a whistleblower on your hands?"

"What are you suggesting, Dr. Hooper?"

She gnawed on her lip and looked around the laboratory. "You… You haven't been able to just grow organs, have you?"

The room grew quiet, all eyes on Molly.

"You've been growing entire organisms," She whispered, scandalized by her own words.

Mycroft cleared his throat and gave her a curt nod. Molly dropped to the stool, covering her own mouth, feeling sick to her stomach.

John looked around, mouth agape, confused. He may be a doctor, and an army vet, but he was certainly missing something.

"What exactly is going on?" John asked, immediately groaning at Sherlock's angry glance.

"My god, John. Could you keep up? The British government has figured out how to clone people. And they're killing them to harvest the organs," Sherlock snapped.

John's eyes grew. "What? That's… That's just not ethical!" He squeaked out.

Mycroft rose to his feet. "Others would disagree, Dr. Watson. These… organisms aren't natural. In many cases, they're missing portions of their brain, or have not fully developed. We can save the lives of eight people with the organs of one reproductive clone."

"Reproductive cloning is illegal here," Molly spoke up again, finally coming to terms with the conversation, "Why is this happening?"

Mycroft studied her, hiding his surprise of her intuitiveness. "Stem cell research was also illegal for years. Every regulation has a loop hole, Dr. Hooper."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked around the lab. "Enough. I'm bored. Get on with it. So, you've had a whistleblower, and now someone knows that the British government is cloning people to kill them. Why am I involved?"

His brother sighed and looked to his men. He motioned for them to depart, leaving only Mycroft, Sherlock, John, and Molly to continue the conversation.

"We've had an incident." Mycroft was short, his eyes, per usual, telling nothing.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Do explain."

"When we first successfully cloned an organism, he was never fully developed. If we needed lungs, those would be grand, but his heart perhaps would not function fully. Or, the kidneys would be in perfect condition, but the brain would be half the normal size."

Mycroft began to pace. "We've yet to have an issue with any of the organ transplants. Our first was six years ago. We started small. Bone marrow. That little girl is now entering secondary school. I understand it's a moral grey area but—"

John snarled. "It's bloody murder, that's what it is!"

Mycroft stopped pacing and met John's gaze. "Tell me, Dr. Watson, if Rosamund was dying and in desperate need of a heart, you wouldn't clone yourself to give her one?"

John blinked, taken aback by the question. "I—That's—You don't—"

Sherlock scowled and waved his hand. "Enough. Continue."

"But, as expected, our technology has continued to progress. And just last week, we cloned one of our cadets and well… He was fully formed. No cognitive impairments. Body in the peak of health."

Molly covered her mouth, feeling sick. "Mycroft… What did you do?"

He cleared his throat. "Moral ambiguity is a tough discussion, especially when sitting in a room with the government heads of three of the most powerful countries in the world."

Sherlock nodded, a grin forming on his lips. "You've kept him alive. You're breeding bloody genetically modified super soldiers!" He announced, rather delightedly.

Mycroft scowled. "They are not super soldiers. If anything, he is just an adequate cadet. At any rate, we find ourselves in a peculiar position. What began as a solution to organ procurement has turned into a precision in reproductive cloning."

"Who wants this?" Sherlock immediately jumped in, ever looking like an excited little boy.

"Many people. We have leads to where our whistleblower has gone. I need you to follow him to a summit in Berlin. This will be a long, slow case."

Sherlock grinned and looked around the lab, extremely pleased with himself. Molly, however, was glued to the chair, her brain on overdrive. Finally, however, she deduced her presence. She didn't know if she was sick from deducing like Sherlock, or from the newfound knowledge.

She stood up abruptly, drawing the attention of the three men. She swallowed.

"You have precision in reproductive cloning, but not perfection," She began, her hands shaking. Mycroft always intimidated her.

"Where's the body?" She forced out, maintaining the older Holmes' gaze.

John gasped. "He's dead?! Did you kill him?"

Mycroft sighed and grabbed small remote from his pocket. With the press of the bottom, one of the coolers opened, forcing out a gurney with a sheet-covered corpse.

"He survived a week. We believe his heart gave out. But before he died, he ran some tests with the gentleman who donated his DNA. We found…"

Sherlock grew excited. "You found what?"

"Many cognitive differences. Whereas the cadet was exceedingly dimwitted, the genetic copy was exceedingly bright. Whereas the cadet was right-handed, the copy was left. The copy was able to pick up four languages in his week here."

Sherlock looked enamored. "Fascinating."

Molly approached the gurney and swallowed, glancing back over at Mycroft. "You need me to tell you exactly what went wrong."

"Precisely, Dr. Hooper."

"Why me?" She forced out, feeling small.

"You're skilled at your job and have proven to be a loyal asset in my brother's ridiculous career. I hope this is something that you can assist your country with."

Molly swallowed and nodded. "I need rubber gloves and a lab coat."

Sherlock grinned. "I need a cup of tea and a good seat!"

John groaned and leaned against the wall, his hand over his mouth. "I need a bloody bin to vomit in."

Mycroft appeased their requests and left the trio to begin their work.

Xxx

And so, the autopsy began, Molly feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders as sliced into the chilled skin. Sherlock sat only meters away, watching with a childlike fascination. Knowing that he would drive her up the wall if she didn't share her findings, she had begun to narrate every laceration and finding in real time.

Across the lab, John had taken to laying his head on the cool, metal table, a bin steady between his knees. He groaned.

"Oh, god. I would clone and kill myself to save Rosie. In a heartbeat," He moaned out, before vomiting yet again.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and kept his attention focused on Molly. "God, this is fantastic. The best thing Mycroft has ever tasked us with."

Molly just shook her head, carefully removing the copy's shriveled up heart from its cavity. "Sherlock, while you may not concern yourself with ethics and morality, the actions by our government would upset many people."

He scoffed. "We could do so much good. Lives could be saved."

Molly blinked and stopped her movements, looking over to Sherlock with wide eyes. "You support this?"

He simply shrugged. "Why wouldn't I? I could clone myself and then make deductions at twice the speed. And, if my poor clone were to die prematurely, I could experiment on his body parts. It sounds like a win-win to me."

Molly stared, mouth agape. "You are just unbelievable, Sherlock Holmes."

She shook her head and continued her work, trying to ignore the sound of John retching.

Why hasn't he run to the toilet yet?

Beside her, Sherlock had developed a curious look on his face, one that frequently led to mischief. When he met her eyes, her stomach dropped.

No…

"SHERLOCK!" She practically yelped, moving away from the body as he rose to his feet. "I know what you're thinking and you'd have to be daft to go along with it!"

He hissed. "It's a bloody perfect scenario! They will want to test the procedure again. I get to go on cases with myself. And then, when he dies, I get to experiment! What's the harm in that?"

Molly swallowed and ripped off her gloves. She crossed her arms and stared at him. "Sherlock, please. You can't do this!"

"Why not? I'm not at risk. All they do is extract DNA. I could aid cloning advancement and play Operation with myself instead of with Mycroft. Imagine how I could mess with John!"

She was at a loss of words. But, while the thought of danger wouldn't deter Sherlock, she knew his ego could.

"What if the clone is smarter than you? Then what?"

He snorted. "Unlikely."

"What if he's the antithesis of everything Sherlock Holmes is? What if he goes around murdering people?"

He rolled his eyes. "This isn't a bloody comic book, Molly. Besides, if he becomes a criminal mastermind, I'll defeat him. And then get to kill myself. It actually sounds thrilling."

And so, she stood in the middle of the lab, mouth agape, watching as Sherlock hurried in search of his brother. She looked over at John, who had stopped retching to call Mrs. Hudson to check on Rosie (it seemed he was now concerned about his daughter's heart) before looking back at the body in front of her.

When she instead saw Sherlock's face, she took an uneven breath before slipping on a new pair of gloves.

It wouldn't be the first time you've seen him on your examination table.

Xxx

A week had passed since the autopsy. As far as she was considered, as soon as she left that lab, with only John along for the cab ride back, she was finished. She had done her part as soon she turned in her paperwork to some underling of Mycroft's. It seemed that the older Holmes brother had disappeared.

Along with Sherlock.

She hadn't spoken to Sherlock since he ran out of the lab, an excited bounce in his step that she had never seen before. On her end, she was desperately trying to pretend that the entire event hadn't occurred, as she now found herself in bed at night, trying to consider the ethics of the situation.

At any rate, that didn't explain why she was now sitting in the back of a town car, sitting next to a tired looking John, being driven to god knows where.

"I hate when she picks us up. Doesn't bloody share any details!" John hissed, his eyes locked on his mobile.

Molly continued to stare out the window, ignoring the feeling in her gut. She knew what this was about. It was time.

The git did it.

So, it was not a surprise when she and John were led back into the lab, the entire bloody military behind them. Sherlock and Mycroft were discussing something, standing beside two important looking scientists in pristine white lab coats. Between the group was a long pod-like chamber, similar to a futuristic coffin.

It basically is one.

"Dr. Watson. Dr. Hooper. Lovely for you to join us." Mycroft began, "I wonder if Sherlock has clued you into why you're here?"

Molly's "yes" was met with John's "no". John looked from Molly to Sherlock and practically pouted.

Sherlock beamed. "They've done it! My genetic clone has approximately three more minutes of incubation before he is ready to enter the world."

John grabbed onto the forearm of a soldier standing beside him, suddenly feeling woozy. "Come again?" He choked out.

Mycroft sighed. "Indeed. I let my brother convince me into allowing him to be our next test subject. He has outlined a variety of experiments he is going to run with the copy, as well as a post-mortem."

Molly whimpered and shook her head. "What if he doesn't die?"

This had the entire room turning to her. One of the scientists laughed and adjusted his glasses.

"With all due respect, Miss…"

"It's Dr. Hooper," She shot back, narrowing her eyes.

The scientists sighed. "Right. Dr. Hooper. We have not achieved perfection in the process. We estimate a two-week lifespan at maximum."

"And if you're wrong?" She asked again, her gaze steady.

"We won't be."

Molly laughed. "Clearly you don't know Sherlock Holmes. He defeats all odds. I presume his reproductive clone will not be any different."

A loud beeping noise silenced the crowd, as well as the sound of an air chamber being opened. The group watched with wide eyes as the chamber door opened upwards, a white vapor invading the air.

It's like a bloody sci-fi film.

And then, in practically slow motion, the genetic copy sat up and climbed out of the chamber, standing tall in front of the crowd, clad in only a pair of white pants.

Molly's mouth dropped.

She was staring at a half-naked Sherlock Holmes. Because it was Sherlock Holmes. From the height, to the build, to the hair, to the eyes, to the bloody everything….

But it wasn't Sherlock Holmes.

The scientist cleared his throat and scribbled down on his clipboard. "Genetic Copy 36 is a go."

Sherlock clasped his hands delightedly, staring at the copy. "My, I think I'll call him William!"

William blinked a few times and looked around the room, seemingly taking in his surroundings. He dropped his gaze to his hands, looking over each finger and hair follicle as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

Mr. Lab Coat set his clip board down. "This is typical of many of our genetic copies. It takes approximately an hour for us to see any sort of verbal ability. Their first hour is quite like that of an infant—discovering the world, making deductions, that sort of thing. But, while Copy 36 may share DNA with Sherlock, he is very much his own person. Similar to a twin. In fact, he will have no recollection of the life or experiencers of his donor. Sherlock is just that. A donor."

He grinned. "A blank slate, so to speak."

Molly couldn't help but step forward, enamored with the man in front of her.

William.

She hesitantly pressed her hand to his arm, causing him to lock his eyes on Molly. He watched her, curiously. Sherlock beamed, enjoying the show of his dear genetic copy.

Molly took a deep breath. "Hello, William. Welcome to the world."

To her surprise, he smiled in return. "Hello, Molly. You look ravishing in red, though I much prefer you in pink."

A pin drop could be heard in the silence of the room. The two scientists began to scramble, letting out delighted cries. Sherlock just blinked.

Mycroft cleared his throat. "I don't understand. He's already speaking. How does he know who Dr. Hooper is?"

Mr. Lab Coat hissed. "We don't know! This is unprecedented!"

Molly gently touched William's cheek, staring into his blue eyes in a way that she had never been allowed to with Sherlock. "What's your god-daughter's name, William?"

"Rosie," He replied with an easy smile, "And she has the world's most beautiful, god-mother. You."

And then, to everyone's shock, Mycroft's disgust, and John's morbid fascination, William leaned forward and captured her lips in a kiss.

Sherlock on the other hand, watched, his mouth agape. And to be frank, he was jealous.

Game on, clone.

To be continued…