John Watson sat across from himself. He sipped his tea, and watched himself make the same action shortly after. His other self said something, and John watched the way his mouth moved as he spoke.
"John, stop being so egotistical, it's getting boring."
"I'm not!" John protested. "It's just weird."
"How do you think I feel?" The other John asked. "I've been alive a week, but share thirty years of memories with you." He wrinkled his nose up in slight confusion at the end.
John decided against mentioning that they were 32, and instead went to observing Mycroft.
In the few hours that the second John had been living with Mycroft, wonders had happened. The three piece suits Mycroft normally wore were in the wardrobe, or somewhere else but not on him: he was dressed in a hideously expensive shirt along with a pair of jeans that John did not want to work out how long he'd have to save up for, but a shirt and jeans nonetheless.
John had to repress a groan every time Mycroft looked at the clone John, as Mycroft's eyes lit up and he looked years younger.
Sherlock joined John in looking like he'd been electrocuted when John's clone started looking at Mycroft in much the same way.
"That was weird." John had said as they'd hurried just as much as they'd been forced out the door after one cup of tea.
Sherlock nodded in agreement, his face looking pale enough to concern John.
"Sherlock, are you alright?"
Sherlock nodded again, so John just shrugged and continued. "It's not like I have anything against it, but it's weird seeing myself so happy with… Mycroft."
John didn't see Sherlock look up at the way he'd spat the name.
I'm sorry for the two week gap here, but my brother sent me his fic and it's so much better than anything I could ever write but whatever, this one is purely for fun instead of being as intelluctual as his was. It just took me a while to remember that.