The other Sherlock's – John didn't know how else to describe him – expression changed from shock to resignation in an instant.

He sighed.

"He drugged me again. Of course. Sorry, Greg – "

"No, mate. I can see them too".

His mouth dropped open again.

"What do you mean?"

He moved cautiously towards them.

"I brought them here – found them on the street, thought they, or rather you, had been out too long. Well, at least I know why they are so out of it".

"But – how – why?"

He raised a hand and pocked the consulting detective in the chest. The indignation on Sherlock's face would have made John laugh in any other situation.

"They're solid..."

"You can't know that" Sherlock interrupted him. He narrowed his eyes and his gaze swept over his look-alike.

"What do you mean?" the other Sherlock – Bill, John remembered, for whatever reason, Greg had called him "Bill" – "I touched you – "

"Yes, but you didn't touch John. Therefore, you cannot know that we are both solid."

Bill blinked. Then he raised his hand and punched John lightly on the chest.

"Happy, now?" he asked, sarcastically and exasperated, and the doctor was more confused than before. This wasn't a reaction he would ever expect from Sherlock.

In fact –

The whole reason why Sherlock had exclaimed that the other man couldn't know they were both solid just from touching one of them was that the consulting detective would never have made the assumption so easily.

He looked different, too. Of course, his features, his height, his voice – it was all identical to Sherlock's, but he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and a jacket that John would have worn, but his best friend would have sneered at, and his hair was cut shorter. He carried himself the wrong way, too – not straight like Sherlock, who wanted people to know how tall he was, but slumping his shoulders, so he wouldn't intimidate people.

And who was Mike?

Bill turned to the DI.

"Is it just me, or – "

He shook his head.

"Yeah, he does act like John, doesn't he? Right to the you-are-an-idiot-but-I-will-explain-anyway stare".

"John?"

Greg and Bill ignored Sherlock's question, however, because at this moment, the DI noticed the other man's bag and pointed at it with a smirk.

"Need a break, I see".

"He burned my favourite t-shirt" Bill fumed. "Said it was "necessary", and when I told him I'd be spending a few days with Mike, he acted like he knew I was going to be back – "

"Because you always come back" Greg stated.

"That obvious?" Bill sighed.

"I don't like him being alone" he continued, "no matter how mad he makes me".

John thought that he knew the feeling, but decided not to comment on it. He had to make some sense of the situation – Sherlock wouldn't be much help. He was deducing them, waiting, but John was too impatient. It was too confusing – seeing his best friend and someone else, who was not his best friend yet so similar to him.

He cleared his throat.

"How about we try to figure out what's going on?"

Bill, who had been telling Greg about the experiment that had led to leaving, looked at John.

"Of course. Well – Let's start from the beginning. Who are you?"

Before Sherlock could scoff and tell him it was obvious, John answered, "Sherlock Holmes and John Watson."

"Sherlock?" Bill raised an eyebrow, and it reminded him so much of his friend that John simply stared while Sherlock replied, "Yes."

"You actually went with Sherlock?"

"It is my name" Sherlock said indignantly.

"Your second name."

"Wait, your second name is Sherlock?"

Greg was obviously trying to hold in his laughter. Bill glared at him.

"There is a reason why I never told you."

"I can imagine, but – it's priceless." The DI chuckled. "Any other names I should know of?"

"Scott. William Sherlock Scott Holmes. Are you happy?" Bill turned to Sherlock again.

"You call yourself Sherlock" he stated, clearly confused by the consulting detective's choice, "That's like Mike using Mycroft".

"He doesn't?"

"Mike is called Mycroft?"

Sherlock and Greg spoke at the same time. John could only stand there and try to comprehend what was happening. Failing to do so, he asked, "Shouldn't we move indoors? This is difficult enough without other people seeing us."

The sun had risen, and soon Baker Street would be full of people.

Bill nodded.

"You are right." He picked his bag up and went to the front door; after unlocking it, he stepped back and let the others enter first.

John was relieved that at first glance everything seemed to be normal; Mrs. Hudson, thankfully, wasn't up yet and they got into the flat without being noticed.

The flat that looked just as different as this Sherlock – Bill, John reminded himself – did.

There was still a sofa, and two chairs, but the skull was missing, as were the smiley and the bullet holes on the wall, and the doctor had to admit that the flat appeared strangely empty without them.

Out of the kitchen came the well-known sounds of someone handling chemistry equipment.

Only that Sherlock was standing next to him and Bill was dropping his bag on the sofa, which meant the only person who could be experimenting...

"I knew you would be back, but I had expected you to be angry for at least two more hours".

Hearing his own voice was weird.

John looked at Sherlock. The consulting detective, naturally, appeared interested in what was going on, but wasn't yet ready to share his theory. He nodded to reassure the doctor and gave him an almost imperceptible wave that clearly meant he should stand back and watch for the moment.

Even though he wanted to ask questions, he trusted Sherlock like he always did and listened to an impatient huff, followed by a chair being pushed back.

"If you think this silence is going to impress me, you are wrong, especially considering you brought Lestrade and two others with you – "

John Watson stopped in the kitchen doorway and took in the scene before him.

It wasn't the John Watson he knew, just like Sherlock had expected.

He didn't yet have enough data to form a theory, which was the reason he'd been quiet; he was aware that his silence was surprising John. In truth, he simply didn't know what to say. It was confusing-

But it was obvious that this wasn't the DI he'd met all these years ago. And Bill was certainly not him, although they did share some characteristics.

Therefore, Sherlock, despite the surprise that hearing John speak so carelessly had brought, considered himself prepared for any version of John that might enter the room.

He would admit, however, that it was strange to see the doctor in a suit in the weak light of the rising sun that came through the window, his hair sleeked back with hair gel, looking them up and down –

No, not looking. Deducing. He was deducing them.

Sherlock had rarely been deduced, Mycroft barely having occasion to do so since he knew everything from the security cameras or his surveillance teams, and it was an interesting experience. He could even see why ordinary people might find it unnerving.

The other John finally fixed his stare on Bill.

"I do appreciate the distraction, but what is going on?"

Bill shrugged.

"I don't know. Greg brought them – "

"Who?"

The man was honestly confused. Sherlock couldn't blame him – he'd had trouble remembering the DI's name as well – but after everything, after he'd jumped from a rooftop to save his friends, he felt annoyed. He couldn't help but feel that people should know Lestrade's name. No matter how irrational it was.

Greg waved at John with a resigned smile, showing that they had had that conversation before.

"Remember me? The guy who's been running your errands for years now?"

John frowned. "I am capable of remembering you" he said calmly.

"But not my first name? That reminds me, did you know Bill's second name was Sherlock?"

Bill's shoulders slumped and he let himself fall on the sofa.

The other man shrugged.

"If I did, I didn't consider the information important enough to keep".

While they were talking, Sherlock quickly deduced the man before him.

Never received medical education. Never entered the military. Is, however, well-versed in chemistry and physics, has been to St. Bart's within the last few days; as well as the Yard, hasn't eaten for three days –

A theory was forming in his mind and he quickly looked at Bill. He had already deduced him on the street, but he wanted to be sure.

Works at a lab. Lives here with John. Got annoyed by John burning his favourite t-shirt in an experiment, hasn't slept as much as he would like, has not taken all of his belongings with him, meaning he knew he'd return, spends much time typing –

It all fit.

They were looking at John Watson, the consulting detective, and Sherlock Holmes, his blogger.