Righto, here we go. A full on fic with a plot line and everything!
As per usual, I do not approve of spoilers, I do not own anything that the great Sir ACD created or that of the Moffat or Godtiss. All I own is the psychotic plot! Enjoy & remember reviews are my drug!
The Sherlock – Bot
In theory, it was fool proof, the plans had been checked thoroughly by an extensive team of experienced technology engineers at a secret government base in Dorset.
Mycroft sat delicately on his leather armchair, his left hand masking his chin as he leaned on the armrest to better survey his creation, it was perfect and it would fool the best of people.
~oOo~
"John" Mycroft greeted as the tired doctor opened the door to 221B's living room. "Good to see you" The taller said rather genuinely.
"You too, Mycroft. Can I get you a cup of tea?" John asked tiredly, his eyes rather sagged from the weeks of restless nights since Sherlock's 'departure'.
"Please" Mycroft said with a sickly sweet smile. As John turned to enter the small but rather clean kitchen, Mycroft glanced behind him.
Once the tea was made, John signalled Mycroft to sit down, however, the taller did not move, instead watching John make a b-line for his own armchair.
"John" Mycroft started rather awkwardly as he surveyed the doctor closely. John looked up at the member of the Governments' highest of officials, the same tired, stressed and worried expression firmly in place. "I have something to show you. Now, as you know, Moriarty is dead but his gang are still at large. You are in danger, especially. I have designed something to deter the gang members from getting close to you. I have had it made, tested and programmed thoroughly." Mycroft continued delicately.
John's frown appeared to now display a slight fear, and so Mycroft placed down his teacup and fixed John with his most sincere stare.
"It is not him, John. But it would be safer for it to live here with you, I promise" Mycroft said sternly.
"What…what are you talking about?" John asked nervously, licking his lip.
Before Mycroft could say a further word, there was a scream from the corridor below. John was on his feet in seconds, only to be tripped up by Mycroft's umbrella – jabbed out at the last moment.
"Sherlock" Mycroft called causally.
To the doctor's disbelief, there was a familiar footfall up the wooden steps toward their flat. The soldier tried to get to his feet once more, only to have a strong hand placed on his shoulder to keep him down.
"Chances are, you will have a blood rush from the head when you see him, John. Best stay put for now" Mycroft said off-handedly as he lifted his teacup toward his lips once more, watching with mere interest as an individual walked through the open doorway to 221B's living room.
John gasped audibly at the sight of Sherlock. His alabaster skin stretched over a strong skeletal structure, his curly hair darker than it had been previously. Those eyes, those extremely vibrant, sharp eyes shone his way.
"John. He is a robot." Mycroft supplied, filling in the blanks for the doctor.
Behind the 6 ft figure, appeared a worried and upset looking Mrs Hudson, wringing her hands and staring at the scene in silence.
"A-a robot?" John eventually managed to ask.
"The best that current technology can offer, John. But you cannot tell anyone. Everyone must learn to believe that this-" Mycroft waved vaguely toward the Sherlock-bot "-is the real Sherlock Holmes".
John, feeling slightly stronger than moments before, got to his feet and approached the Sherlock-bot now standing in their living room.
Mycroft and Mrs Hudson watched on as John lifted a hand to the robots' face and cupped its' cheek.
"He looks so real" John whispered, staring up into the face of his best friend.
"I am real, John" It replied with a sudden raised eyebrow.
John leapt back from the figure immediately.
"Stop being strange, John. We need to go to Scotland Yard, I need to be brought back to life" Sherlock announced, nodding appreciatively toward Mycroft.
John looked incredulously between the two, finishing the look at Mycroft.
"He doesn't even….sound like a robot, Mycroft. I've never seen anything like this" The doctor said, clenching his jaw anxiously as he glanced disbelievingly at the robot.
"Grow up, John. Technology beyond your wildest dreams is available if you know where to go. We are certainly much more advanced than Short Circuit and Jonny 5" Mycroft scoffed. John momentarily smiled in surprise at Mycroft's trivial knowledge before reality slapped back at him.
"Mycroft, what…..how…?" John stammered as he waved toward Sherlock.
"Relax. He is exactly like the real thing in every way – except that he now likes me." Mycroft said with a small smile as he surveyed Sherlock approvingly. "All that you need to do is plug him in at night before you go to bed, unlike the real thing – he needs to be switched off, daily"
"What if I lose him?" John asked, a trace of stress and anxiousness behind his tone.
Mycroft smiled sweetly and all-knowingly. "He has a trace system. I will be able to keep track of him all the time and will have a laptop delivered to you within the next few days; it will have the appropriate software on it. This, also, is not to fall into any hands except your own, do you understand, John?" Mycroft pressed causally.
"Of course" John said, still flabbergasted.
"Good. Sherlock?" Mycroft said walking toward the replacement for his brother.
Sherlock turned to Mycroft with a small smile.
"Take care of John" Mycroft said gently. "He is important to you"
John looked to the floor and swallowed harshly to keep from falling apart at the meaning of Mycrofts' words.
Without further word back to John, Mycroft left, taking Mrs Hudson back down the stairs to her own flat. The only sound in the flat being their footsteps and a murmured explanation from the older Holmes toward their kindly landlady.
"Hi Sherlock" John said tentatively once the front door had closed behind Mycroft.
"Hello John" Sherlock replied. "How long have you been without me?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.
John puffed out an "oh" of awe at how eerie the experience was proving to be, before turning away from the robot and rubbing the back of his head in a recognised stress habit. He turned back when Sherlock spoke.
"You are finding it hard to adapt to me" He stated in his all-too-familiar baritone voice.
"Of course I'm finding it bloody hard to adapt, Sherlock, you're dead!" John suddenly exploded, taking a step too close to the new device in his living room. "A Sherlock Robot?! Is your – Sherlock's brother mad? Of course, no, every household should have a 'Sherlock-bot'!" John spat sarcastically.
Sherlock did not react at all, on the contrary, he simply continued to stare blankly at the doctor until he was finished.
"Is your health ok, John?" He asked simply.
John simply pulled in a breath and held it, staring up at the robot in awe. After a few minutes of stalemate; John exhaled heavily.
"Battery Status?" John asked, deciding to plug Sherlock in and switch him off until he was ready to deal with the whole situation.
"98% John. I have three days worth of experiments' to carry out, I cannot simply sleep" Sherlock countered, all too realistic for Johns' liking.
"That's not even….Sherlock, you are not him, ok, stop trying to…just stop it. He can't just be replaced! Go on charge" John stammered, and when the robot did not move, John shouted loudly; "Now!"
"I cannot 'go on charge' John. I need you to plug me in" Sherlock stated in his infamous 'obvious' tone of voice.
John nodded curtly, entering military mode in order to cope with his surroundings. "Show me how" he said, ready to deal with the situation.
"My bedroom" Sherlock said, elegantly turning heel and marching toward his own room.
"Don't - !" John snapped, alarmed as Sherlock threw open his own bedroom door.
The room was a mess. Not only was all of the real Sherlock's belongings in there, but the bed had been turned over as though someone had had a bad night or two in it.
John's colour returned in force as he blushed furiously.
"You have been sleeping in my room." Sherlock stated without turning round. "Why?"
John rubbed the back of his neck once more; "It has been cold lately, Sherlock's room was closer to the chimney" he mumbled, looking at the wall beside Sherlocks' bedroom door.
"You are lying but it is of no matter." Sherlock-bot replied lazily before walking toward the bed.
John watched on with his head tilted toward the floor, Sherlock-bot looked at him expectantly.
"I need you to open my programming door" Sherlock-bot said, removing his suit jacket and undoing his blue shirt buttons.
John hesitantly took a step forward, but remained silent until the robot had removed his shirt. The skin below his neckline took on a waxy texture, obviously not meant for show.
"Here" Sherlock-bot said pointing to his chest.
John's hand remained terribly steady as he pressed the point the robot had pointed to – just like a new kitchen cupboard. The robots' chest sprang open to reveal several plug adapters; a fuse board and what looked like spare mother-boards. The doctor scoffed slightly as he looked at the contents.
"Your chest cavity is a spare parts cupboard" John said lightly, not restraining the smile that spread his face.
"Is that supposed to be funny?" The Sherlock-bot asked, looking up at the doctor with a raised eyebrow once more.
The smile slipped a little from the soldiers' face before he nodded a little. "It would be, if you were the real Sherlock"
"How long has he been gone?" The robot asked lightly.
John sighed before removing the cable and plug from the chest cavity. "Too long" he said honestly.
"I am sorry" Sherlock-bot said mechanically.
"Yeah, well, its' not your fault is it? You are just made to imitate him." John said gently, plugging in the cable in the socket on the wall, turning to give the smallest of thin lipped smiles. "Still, its' nice to see you."
"It is nice to meet you, John" Sherlock-bot replied, smiling a small smile toward the doctor.
"Goodnight, Sherlock" John said gently, flicking the socket on.
Sherlock-bot closed his eyes and sat very still – this was obviously him on standby. John laughed lightly at the last half an hour of crazy-ness before walking forward to close the chest cavity and study his new flatmate intensely.
Those dark curls were real hair, John ran a hand through them to confirm this, the skin felt real as well, that was until it met his neck-line, John ran his hand over the robots' bare chest to see that it was indeed a different material – not as soft as the 'skin' on its' hands and face. John took a step back to stare at the robot in awe for god – only – knows how long before he realised that the daylight had vanished from the bedroom window and he had taken to sitting on the floorboard at Sherlock's feet.
Getting to his own feet, the doctor chuffed slightly, glancing at the robot before avoiding his gaze awkwardly. After a few minutes of opening and closing his fists anxiously, he made to arrange the robot so that it was lying down on its' back. With a few more minutes of nail biting decision, John crawled into the bed sheets beside his new flatmate and gently lay down. Lying on his side, the soldier rested his head upon his hand and gazed at the robot until sleep overcame him.
~oOo~
"How long has the robot been at 221B?" Sherlock asked dully, watching the footage on the laptop in front of him.
Mycroft studied his brother for a long moment before answering "Six months".
Sherlock nodded minutely, watching eagerly as the camera - cleverly hidden in the corner of 221B's living room - spilled its' secrets.
"John seems to be adapting well, he has learned to programme it as you can see." Mycroft said casually, getting to his feet to fetch a glass of whisky.
"Does he still visit the grave?" Sherlock asked, glancing toward his brothers' retreating back.
"Not as much." Mycroft said blankly.
"Then it is done" Sherlock said with a small sigh.
"It has been a long time, Sherlock" Mycroft said dully, looking out of the window cupping his glass with two hands.
"2 years is nothing, Mycroft" Sherlock snapped angrily.
"Nothing to the busy and determined" Mycroft corrected, turning a 90 degrees to look at his brother reproachfully. "A lifetime to the idle and broken-hearted" he finished quietly.
Sherlock remained silent but ran a worried hand over his mouth and chin, lowering his gaze to the computer screen once more to view John Watson and his replacement, sitting companionably on the old couch of 221B Baker Street.
~oOo~
"Initiate program 67" John announced as he got up to fetch two cups of tea. There was a small, indefinable beep before Sherlock's voice echoed around the walls of 221B.
"JOHN!" Sherlock shouted.
John could barely contain his smile as he fetched two cups from the cupboard above the kettle.
"Yes, Sherlock?" He answered gently.
"We are out of milk" Sherlock said huffily as he sloped into the kitchen like an over-grown teenager.
"No, we aren't, I had the foresight to buy more on the way home from work today" John smiled up at the tousle-haired detective-bot.
"John, you are amazing, a conductor of light, absolutely wonderful" Sherlock rattled off at break-neck speed.
"Woah, woah, woah, its' only milk" John said, grinning from ear to ear.
Sherlock-bot caught the doctors' eye and stared him out for a good long minute before inching forward. John's eyes widened a fraction of an inch. This was new behaviour, he had not programmed the robot to do anything but talk and huff in this particular program, however, the doctor did not move. He still remained frozen in place as a pair of synthetic lips touched his own, ever so gently.
John, not thinking entirely straight, closed his eyes for a mere second to revel in the feel of his flatmate doing something so completely desired but so out of character from the real thing.
"Where did you learn to do that?" John whispered, pulling away just enough to look up at his robotic friend.
"It is in my files" Sherlock-bot replied, his eyes dashing between John's own two.
"We've…We…" John coughed "We haven't done this" he tried to explain.
"Should I erase the information and memory?" Sherlock-bot asked, straightening up to his full height and tilting his head to one side to survey his short friend.
John frowned "No. No, that's ok…keep it." He blushed a little before turning back to the tea.
~oOo~
"That was a little dangerous, don't you think?" Mycroft asked, surveying the laptop over his younger brothers' shoulder.
"Experiment" Sherlock said bluntly, watching John potter about, continuing to make the tea in a fluster.
"Unnecessary" Mycroft scoffed. "Stop programming the robot – or John will figure out that something is amiss"
Sherlock smiled widely as the robot on screen looked up toward the camera with the smallest of small smirks.
~oOo~
Within a year, the Sherlock-bot had been fully integrated into human society. Lestrade, Donavon, Dimmock and Anderson believed him to be the insufferable detective enough to work beside him once more, Molly fidgeted and mumbled as the flustered young lady used to do in its' presence. It was only John who knew the truth; it was only John that still felt lost.
One night, John put Sherlock-bot on charge and took to the laptop with a fresh cup of tea. He had wondered about it long enough, and as the Sherlock-bot seemed to be around to stay – he figured no harm would be done by it.
Program 1012 was designed in six dark hours, when John had finished it, he sat back in his chair and smiled. This was going to be exciting and new, it could potentially be dangerous too, but that didn't matter. It wasn't as if he was going to do these things with the real Sherlock Holmes.
Lunchtime the next day, John looked up at the Sherlock-bot as it sat in his old leather chair.
"Sherlock?" John asked lightly.
The robot looked toward the doctor wordlessly, encouraging the man to continue.
"Can you look through program 1012 for me? Fault detect?" John asked tentatively.
"Certainly, John" Sherlock replied.
John watched on as Sherlock-bot went through the new programming, externally it only looked like the old Sherlock deep within the walls of his mind palace.
"This is new" Sherlock murmured. "I may need a software update to cope with it" he said as he regained consciousness and looked sideways at John. The doctor smiled sheepishly. "Should I initiate now?" The robot asked, with a stare in the doctors' direction.
"Yes" John whispered, glancing toward the robot before looking to his hands in his lap. "If you want to, that is - now would – be an appropriate…time" the doctor finished awkwardly, re-arranging himself to sit on his hands to stop them fidgeting.
Sherlock got to his feet and swiftly walked toward John before kneeling on the floor between his open knees. Involuntarily, John shivered, never braking eye contact with those steel coloured eyes. Now that the robot was closer, John allowed himself to really look at him. Raising his left hand, John connected it gently with Sherlocks' face, cupping that beautifully sculpted cheekbone like he had longed to do for an age. Sherlock leant into the touch as his programming had taught him to do so. The soldiers' heart could have broken right then and there before he moved forward slightly to hover mere centimetres from the robots' mouth.
"Sherlock" John whispered gently before closing his eyes, fully intent on closing the gap between them.
"John" Sherlock imitated, watching the doctor closely and with interest.
John halted all movement and opened his eyes as he sat back. It was no good, the robot just wasn't Sherlock. He smiled briefly at the robot before cancelling the command.
"Exit program" The doctor sighed.
"Did I do something wrong, John?" The robot asked, still in position on his knees in front of John.
"No, no, you didn't. It's just me." John said without looking at Sherlock.
"You wanted to do this with the real Sherlock, didn't you?" The robot asked knowingly.
"Yes, yes, but, he has gone now. I need to move on, I'm sorry, for trying to use you" John said, waving his hand in awkward signal between them.
"I am a machine, John. I am made to be utilised." The robot stated obviously.
"Not like this you're not" John said gently, reaching out a hand to ruffle the hair gracing Sherlocks' head.
Without warning, the robot moved forward and pinned John to the back of the couch.
"Sherlock" John yelped rather indignantly.
Lips met lips and for a moment all was forgotten. John gave in after a moment of standing his ground, he began to reciprocate the kiss when he felt the robots' tongue lap at his bottom lip expertly.
After a good minute of gentle kissing, Sherlock-bot inched further still, all but lying on the doctor awkwardly upon their old couch.
"Sherlock" John started as soon as his mouth was free, however, the name did not come out as he had intended, instead it came as a breathy moan, rather than the warning tone he was going for.
"John" The robot replied before suddenly shutting down.
John grabbed the taller figure by the shoulders and shook him slightly. "Sherlock?" He called gently, when receiving no response, he pushed the robot back to its' knees. It looked like system malfunction. "You weren't joking about the software update were you?" The doctor asked in a mild panic seeing the detectives' eyes half lidded, his mouth slightly open with absolutely no response.
"He isn't broken" Came a voice from the living room door behind John. The soldier froze; he knew that voice so well, the low tone with the words sounding like velvet in his ears. The voice that rattled off deductions faster than light, the voice that kept him grounded in a chase, the voice that had been replicated for the robot he now stared dumbly at. "He is only on stand-by. Remote control for me, now there is Mycrofts' fantasy in a small black box."
The voice continued to ramble. John's own mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he unrelentingly stared at the frozen face of his friend still on his knees in front of him.
In one smooth movement, Sherlock strode across the living room and hoisted the robot up to its' feet. He elegantly walked toward his own armchair and placed the figure down facing the couch. Once the real Sherlock had closed the Sherlock-bot's marble eyes, he returned to John and crouched down in place of the robot at the soldiers' feet.
"John" Sherlock began, watching as his friend continued to stare vacantly toward him. "I am only going to tell you what happened once and then I am never going to speak of it again, is that understood? Blink once for yes" Sherlock said dully.
John blinked rapidly, 4,5,6 times, before he stared back at Sherlock, his eyes now watering with the effort needed to stay conscious and receive information.
Sherlock reached forward and placed two leather gloved hands on each of the doctors' knee to stabilize his position, the real consulting detective took a large breath of air and met John's eyes unblinkingly before he began.
"Mycroft and Moriarty came to an arrangement, they in effect kidnapped me, planning my death for me. They had a rather large team of helpers, a dummy, and most importantly a witness. You, John, you were the key. Moriarty had to make you believe I was dead so that you wouldn't come looking for me. Moriarty has…had a rather peculiar interest in me, he wanted to study me, he wanted to know the inner workings of my mind, simply because he didn't understand me. In return for his efforts in helping Moriarty, Mycroft secured safety for Mrs Hudson, Lestrade, you and himself. I guess he knew I could take a couple of months, until he had tracked down every member of Moriarty's gang across Switzerland, America and the UK. Then he came back for me." Sherlock stopped finally for breath and raised his eyebrows in order to study his former flatmate. For the duration of Sherlock's explanation, John had stared at Sherlock's moving mouth, his eyes now streaming constant tears.
"Moriarty-?" John eventually managed, still staring at the detectives' lips.
"Is dead" Sherlock finished. "By my hand" He concurred.
John nodded minutely after a minute or two of silence. "Shame" John murmured eventually.
Sherlock tilted his head and rose a questioning eyebrow at his doctor.
"I would have tore him limb from limb, if I knew" John said weakly, a small sob escaping his lips.
Sherlock smirked. "I should of warned him" he said wisely.
"I knew. I knew you couldn't be dead" John said tiredly, now raising his hands to rub at his own face roughly. "Everyone told me to stop kidding myself. Then, Mycroft gave me that, and I began to feel that maybe, maybe you really were gone." John stopped to put a fisted hand between his teeth.
Sherlock's brow furrowed in uncharacteristic concern for a brief second before he looked away from John toward the robotic replacement that had taken up residence in his old life. When he looked back to the broken soldier in front of him, John had managed to pull himself back together.
"I am sorry, John" Sherlock stated in a monotone.
John let out a sudden laugh before shaking his head at the detective sadly. "In all this" he raised his hand once again to cup the real Sherlock's face "you are the innocent one, and I should have been by your side."
The room was quiet as the two men looked at each other with something akin to sorrow for a few minutes more. Eventually, John let out a large puff of air and rubbed ferociously at his reddened and wet eyes.
"So, where do we go from here?" John asked after a little while more.
"You're asking me?" Sherlock asked with a sceptic smile.
"You're right, what was I thinking" John asked with another small laugh.
Sherlock looked down for a second at his hands, still gloved and still placed on the soldiers' knees, he folded his lips inward for a second before deciding to tell John the rest.
"John, there's more" Sherlock sighed, glancing at John's face for only a second.
"Yeah?" John asked lightly, preparing himself for anything.
"I watched…there's a camera over there…and I watched you adapt to…him" Sherlock articulated badly.
"H-how long have you been back?" John stuttered in disbelief, a million possibilities running through his head; had Sherlock seen the programming John had done? Had he seen the nights John had spent by the robots' side, all the while trying to pretend that the clever gadget was his long deceased friend?
"6 months" Sherlock answered quietly. Watching John and knowing exactly what he was thinking. "John, I…erm…I could also alter its programming from Mycroft's base." Sherlock added awkwardly.
John looked confused for a second before realisation washed his face and he stared with wide eyes at his best friend. "You" was all he said before Sherlock nodded affirmatively.
"I initiated…well I altered your programming to make the robot…kiss you" Sherlock explained rather sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck.
"Why?" John asked curiously, ignoring the heat now spreading his cheeks.
"Expe-" Sherlock started but halted almost immediately. "I…wanted to, but couldn't, so I made him do it. It was easier, as it wasn't in person, I could gauge your reaction" he explained slowly.
John looked down to avoid eye contact as he asked his next question. "What did you read when you watched it?"
"The same emotions that I felt. I just wish it was me in the first instance" Sherlock said, now removing his gloves from John's knees.
"Take off your coat" John ordered rather loudly stopping the detective in his tracks. However, after a moment of stalemate, Sherlock obeyed without large movements, letting his large infamous overcoat fall to the floor behind him. He removed his gloves too in the process, watching John's hungry stare with slight anxiousness.
John remained laid back against the back of the couch but reached forward for Sherlock's suit jacket lapel. The detective closed the gap so that the doctor could reach him, John pulled him with a strength long forgotten until the detective was exactly where the robot had been not half an hour before. John smiled uncontrollably as he stared at the face of his very much alive friend not two inches from his own.
"I stayed up almost all night, writing a computer program for this." John whispered.
"I'd better make it good then, hmm?" Sherlock answered, watching John carefully and mirroring his smile.
John smiled wider up at Sherlock before shaking his head slightly. "Naa" He said causally. "It's got to have its' faults for it to be real".
The two laughed lightly before closing the gap simultaneously, lips meeting lips in a first kiss sweeter than the evening itself.
The End