Perfection, thought Sherlock Holmes as he examined his handiwork. An almost exact portrayal—from the curve of the face down to the texture of the hair. He had even added a scar to the left shoulder, if only for show. Sure it was covered by a button-up shirt and jumper, but it made Sherlock feel better to know it was there. What had the genius gotten himself into this time? He had made a near-exact replica of his best friend, in robotic form.

John had left to help his sister through a relapse in her fight against the drink, though Sherlock would only learn the latter part later. All he knew for the moment was that John was gone, for a while judging by what he had taken with him, and that he wasn't in danger. So without a case and without John, the detective had been suffering a long-term bout of boredom. And since creating a case would be…well a very bad idea, he went with the not-quite-but-almost-as-bad idea of creating a John. Or, as he liked to call the mechanical version of his flatmate, Johnbot.

As he powered Johnbot up, he felt the pride of an artist who had just finished his masterpiece—excited, but still vigilant for parts in need of improvement. But Johnbot was working flawlessly, and blinked around the room, processing and cataloguing information faster than it could be given. Finally his camera-eyes rested on his creator, and he simply stared unblinkingly.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and said, "Johnbot?" No acknowledgement. "Johnbot, blink." Johnbot blinked once. Sherlock beamed at the response. Time for the final piece. "Hold still, Johnbot." He moved around to stand behind the chair where Johnbot was seated and accessed the compartment in the back of his neck. Exposing the inner workings running everything, Sherlock carefully inserted the personality chip he'd made. He went back around to see how well it worked.

The change was almost instantaneous. Johnbot blinked a few times, processing this new info, then shifted his position from sitting stiffly to a more relaxed state. Then Johnbot saw Sherlock's anticipating stare and his mouth twitched downward in confusing. He opened his mouth but while his lips formed the question, "what," he didn't make a sound. Sherlock then recognized his own name being mouthed. For a moment he just stared in fascination as the object of his study attempted to use his voice with no success, but when Johnbot started to panic, he spoke.

"Don't worry," Sherlock said in his most soothing voice. "Calm down. I can fix that."

Johnbot repeated his last words noiselessly, then settled for raising an eyebrow as if to say, "What did you do?"

"Oh right, something's wrong with you so clearly it's my fault," Sherlock grumbled, lip sticking out slightly in a pout. The look of regret and apology he got kept him quiet about the fact that his lack of speech was entirely Sherlock's fault. He made a move toward the access panel again, but the curious creature's head turned so he could watch. "No, don't move. I need to get to the back of your neck."

Johnbot looked more confused but allowed Sherlock to get behind him and to the wiring to reconnect the ones that allowed him to speak.

"There, how is that?"

"Hmm—ah! Better." He smiled a bit. "Thanks, Sherlock."

Sherlock started a bit in surprise. "So you know who I am?"

"Of course I do."

"Do you know who you are?"

"Yes." Johnbot furrowed his brow. "Why—"

"Do you know who John is?"

"What are you on about?"

"John."

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"No, I mean John. Not you."

"Right. Are you feeling okay?"

Sherlock huffed. "No self-awareness, then." He sat down across the table from Johnbot and looked him in the eyes. "You're not John. You're Johnbot, and I made you to look and think like John Watson."

"Sure, whatever you say."

"No, I'm serious."

The stern look he got made Johnbot consider. "You created me?"

"Yes, and I programmed out John's slight closed-mindedness so really you should be able to accept the idea." Because his artificial friend looked like he still needed a bit more proof, he added, "How far back do your memories go?"

Johnbot took an instant to calculate. "Today…"

"When is your birthday?"

"…I don't remember. How do I not know?"

"Because I can never remember! And since I programmed you, you only know as much as I do."

Things seemed to click in Johnbot's mind and he let out a somewhat anti-climactic, "Huh."

Sherlock studied his friend's look-alike. "How do you feel?"

Johnbot shrugged and studied Sherlock right back.

"You're taking things rather well."

He shrugged again. "How should I take them? Is this not how John would take them?"

"I don't think he'd believe me." Though it might be interesting to try, he thought. He dismissed the idea before it could form completely. More trouble than it's worth.

"Oh right." Johnbot looked around the room then stood and walked over to the settee only to sit down again.

Sherlock followed, curling up on the other side to watch Johnbot. "Is it terrible, being you?"

"Not really, no. Though I think it doesn't fully sink in, whether I believe you or not. Or at least not right away."

"Do you hate me?" It was a somewhat juvenile question but it had to be asked.

Johnbot smiled. "No."

Sherlock couldn't help but smile back. "I'm glad." He took the pillow next to him and placed it on Johnbot's lap, turning so he could lie down and look up.

The two looked at each other in silence, each recording everything about the other.

After a few minutes, Sherlock's curiosity got the better of him. He was surprised he could hold it in so long, but Johnbot fascinated him and he was fine just studying him quietly for a time. When that time was up, he asked, "What are you thinking about?"

Johnbot considered this. "A lot of things. Mostly I'm wondering if John would allow you to do this." He gestured to Sherlock's resting position.

"Hm, probably not," Sherlock replied. "But remember, I programmed you to be more open. So this is an effect of that." He closed his eyes, not caring to explain in detail.

"I see." There was a pause before Johnbot asked, "Then did you program the feelings I have for you?"

Sherlock's eyes snapped open. "I'm sorry?"

Johnbot tried rewording. "Feelings for you, did you do that? I mean, make me like you?"

Sherlock frowned in confusion. "No, that wasn't me."

"Oh. Alright, then."

It was only when he stopped did Sherlock notice Johnbot had been gently running his hand through Sherlock's hair. "Oh don't worry about it. That's…perfectly fine."

Johnbot's only response was to return his hand's attention to Sherlock's dark curls.