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Mycroft's Folly

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It hurt. It hurt to think that Sherlock would never again walk through the doors of 221B Baker’s Street. John shifted in the church pew his leg throbbing with pain. Sherlock would hate this, it was a boring funeral ceremony, and John could image Sherlock deducing the steaming affair that the reverend was having with the choir mistress. John sighed his eye’s stinging. He could see Mycroft and Mummy Holmes standing in the first pew. He couldn’t blame Mycroft for Sherlock’s death, not any more that he could blame himself. It wasn’t like Mycroft could have control Sherlock; Sherlock had been a force of nature.

John wasn’t sure what would happen next, he’d go back to the flat but then what? John was worried that he’d give in to the call of his old service revolver and join Sherlock in the ground.

‘Boring’ drawled the voice of Sherlock in his head. John sighed in relief it probably wasn’t healthy but as long as that voice stuck around john was sure he could make it to tomorrow.


It didn’t take long for Greg to offer and John to accept the position of coroner. It helped that it was often around the deceased that Sherlock’s voice was the loudest.

‘Yes John, passible, though you missed the twelve more informative clues.’


Mummy was absolutely devastated and of course rightly blamed Mycroft for the death of his brother. If only Mycroft could have been more effective in ensuring Sherlock’s behavior but his baby brother had always been somewhat more erratic in his pursuits. It would be a wasted point but a file had come across Mycroft’s desk and it was this file that gave him hope. The file pertained to the creation of super human beings through cloning and genetic manipulation. Highly unethical of course but the world was descending into violent and savage darkness. There was only so much one man could so; but to have several men and women with Mycroft’s intelligence and the physicality to back that intelligence up could stem the tide of chaos.

It would also give Mycroft a chance to mode another brother in his image, fix the mistakes he’d made with Sherlock. Yes he quite liked that idea.


Life went on for John at a somewhat more sedate pace then the life he’d lead with Sherlock; but every day he got a bit more used to it. Now a year after Sherlock’s death the tightness in his chest was finally abating along with the need to hear Sherlock’s voice. At least that was what John told himself every morning and evening.

Mycroft checked in with John once or twice a month in and effect to make sure that ‘John didn’t do anything foolish in his time of grief’. Good God Mycroft was a pompous git.


The cloning and accelerated aging of Sherlock’s replacement had finally succeeded after 3 failed attempts. Mycroft tried not to linger over the unsuccessful trials. Mycroft would have preferred to take Sherlock home right away, but the director of the program was being a bit of a bother; insisting that ‘Khan’ needed education and training before he could be released into Mycroft’s care.


John hadn’t been expecting Mycroft’s black car to pull up along side him; but he got in anyway.

“Good news John, we’ve found Sherlock alive.” Mycroft’s assistant informed him. John was flabbergasted.
“What? I saw the body, I identified it at the seen for heaven sakes!”

“It was a body double, we couldn’t let on that Sherlock was alive as he was undercover taking down the last of Moriarty’s crime syndicate.”

“You’re taking me to him now?” Asked John.

“Of course.” And then there was silence in the car for the rest of the journey.



“Your name is Sherlock Holmes. You live at 221B Baker’s street with your flatmate Dr. John Watson who is now a retired from the armed forces and working as a coroner for the police force. He is your closest friend.” Mycroft informed Sherlock, watching as the man nodded with no sign of an emotional response. “He will be the one that is most likely to see through this ruse.”

Again the man nodded having already memorized the particulars of Sherlock Holmes life.

Five minutes later a nondescript looking man entered the room. When his gaze fell upon Khan his face lit with a genuine look of joy. It was the first time anyone had looked at Khan that way.

“Sherlock!” said the man rushing forward and pulling the super human into a back slapping hug. Khan remained stiff in his grasp not used to physical contact that was without a purpose. The man eased back confused at ‘Sherlock’s’ unresponsiveness.

“What’s going on here Mycroft?” Asked John sussing out something was wrong.

“Unfortunately Sherlock suffered some head trauma during his clandestine activities. The doctor’s have assure me that he will regain his memories in time.” Replied John.

“I see.” John’s shoulders relaxed. “He’ll be coming back to Baker’s street then.”

“Well…” Mycroft began only to be cut off by John.

“The familiarity will help the memories resurface, any doctor would tell you as much Mycroft.”

Mycroft stared at the doctor. “I had hoped living with Mummy would allow for larger breakthroughs.”

“Sherlock hasn’t lived with his ‘Mummy’ since he was sixteen, and I’m sure he ‘deleted’ large portions of his childhood. Besides he’ll want the adult memories to come back. Still I suppose it’s rude talking about him like he’s not here, lets ask him what he wants shall we?”

“Really Dr. Watson I don’t see the nee-“

“I’ll go to Baker Street with John.” Interrupted Khan earning him a pleased smile from John.

Damn, damn, damn if Mycroft refused John would know something was wrong even with his inferior intellect. Mycroft could dispose of the man, but the best way of reestablishing Sherlock’s place in the world would be through the man.

“Very well, I will however check in on Sherlock’s progress frequently.” Mycroft warned Khan with a heavy look.

“Right of course, come on then Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson will be delighted to see you, she might even make you tea.” Said John as he turned to leave. Knowing full well that something wasn’t quite right with the situation.


It hadn’t taken Sherlock long to settle in John was glad to see, though the music at 3am was notably absent as well were the experiments that usually took place in the refrigerator. As more and more time past John grew surer that the man he was sharing his flat with was in fact not Sherlock Holmes. Sure they share similar DNA, which John had tested himself. The basis of the DNA was the same but some of the genetic sequences had been changed as far as he new there was no way to change DNA at this level in an adult Human being, it hadn’t been until he’d seen an article in the news paper about the ethics of cloning that John has put the clues together.

The man living with him was a clone. Well that put a new spin on things. Still the man had Sherlock’s DNA and John couldn’t bare to part with what he had left of the man he’d loved but never told.

Mycroft must know of course, no wonder he’d wanted to keep ‘Sherlock’ with him and under control.

Well that decided it, the man wasn’t Sherlock so John would start treating him as his own person, and maybe grow to love him as he’d once loved Sherlock. First though the man needed his own name. How to introduce the idea that John knew the secret in a way that wouldn’t tip Mycroft off and get John bumped off.


Khan had been surprised to find the article about cloning on the kitchen table, with notes written in the Doctors tiny scrawl.
He scanned the article and notes quickly before dropping the article back on the table.

“Fascinating isn’t it?” asked John from behind him. The man could be extremely light footed when he wanted to be.

“Yes, do you think they’ll ever get to the human testing stage?”

“Ah, I’m sure that somewhere in the world they already are. This is really going to change the way we define what a human life is.” Replied John brushing past the man to pick up the article. He looked the other man in the eye and asked. “Don’t you think?”


John knew, Khan had wondered at the doctor’s change in behavior. He’d stopped trying to reminisce with Khan and only very seldom did John use the name Sherlock when addressing him, in fact recently he had only heard that infuriating name in the company of Mycroft or in public.

Khan hadn’t thought it possible since being removed from the others of his kind, but he was becoming emotionally involved with an inferior human. Something would have to be done about that.


There’d been several explosions. The news stations were talking about nothing else. John sat in the flat watching with growing horror as he realized just who was behind the devastation. A secret government medical facility had been bombed, some criminals that the government had been using as test subjects has reportedly escaped. Only John knew that these test subjects were likely to be people like Khan.
Oh God, they’d bombed every major government building including were Mycroft worked; in fact that building had been hit the heaviest.


A week later marshal law and curfews were put in place. Those behind the bombing had not yet been identified. Fights and lootings were happening in the streets the British government had fallen.


It didn’t take long for a new leader to fill the void. News broadcasts informed the British people of the new regime. The face on the broadcast was very familiar to John. Staring back at John was the face of Khan Noonien Singh.

Could John have stopped this?


Those that rebelled against the new rule were being rounded up and executed. John had heard from word on the street that Greg had been picked up and was due to be terminated in a week’s time.


John had been permitted an audience with Khan. He swallowed nervously but his hand was steady and his leg didn’t hurt. He’d expected a throne room or something just as ridiculous. The room he was admitted into had a circular table with 12 chairs. Khan was sitting in a chair facing John as he walked in.

“John.” Greeted Khan in his deep baritone voice that made John tingle. “What can I do for you?”


When John woke it was with a start. It took him a minute to figure out where he was and why he was sore in unusual places. Turning his head he watched Khan sleep, he could almost imagine that it was Sherlock in bed with him. He’d traded himself for Greg’s life, and John had to content himself with that. Khan had been gentle but demanding when he’d taken John’s body. John hadn’t been able to lie back and think of England as it were.

John didn’t think that Khan was going to let him go, not if the arm wrapped possessively around his waist and the love bite on his neck were anything to go by.

John had a persistent cough and a fever, as well as a augmented human hovering anxiously around him.
“Really Khan I’ll be fine its just the flu.” John stated in between coughing fits.

Khan smoothed John’s hair back from his clammy forehead; this level of weakness was unacceptable.


The experiments had been successful. He’d found away to make John into a superior being. Just in time as John had developed pneumonia.


Khan injected John with the serum he had created. The results were almost instantaneous; John’s breathing became less laborious and color returned to his face.


John was less than happy when he woke up and found himself in possession of a superior constitution. He’d thrown Khan from the room and slammed the door yelling ‘How dare you!’ all the while.

On the other side of the door Khan laughed excited to see that the serum had worked.


Khan had suggested to his people that it would be advisable to find a partner from the human population, now that the serum could be used to augment them.


20 years went by and John was perplexed with the lack of aging on his part and that of the others.

There were stirrings in the human population as they saw their overlords were not aging, it seemed that the dictatorship could stretch out forever.


It all came crashing down around them. The human rose up and took back control with a great cost to both sides.

John had helped with the evacuation, gotten as many of Khan’s people out of the compound as he could. The last one he’d been able to get out was a young boy. Khan had managed to find them, and like always he had a plan.

Cryostasis and escape to the stars. Four ships took to the skies in different directions each with a hundred pods

The last thing John saw before sleep were Khan’s blue eyes.


Khan woke disorientated with the droning beep of medical machines in his ears.

“Welcome to that land of the living, you’ve been asleep for a long time.”


They’d let him pick his new first name; he chosen John to remind himself what was at stake if he failed to free his people. For all this Admiral Marcus claimed not to be savage he could certainly be cruel.


He’d managed to escape with only one cryo-pod. It took him sometime to find a doctor with enough talent to wake his John from cryostasis.


Khan had gotten John a ship and sent him into space with the newly augmented Dr. M’ Benga; to find the rest of their people.

John would be far enough into space that his soft heart would not stop Khan’s plan.


By the time John had recovered two ships worth of Khan’s and he supposed he’s people 8 months had passed. Something was up, he hadn’t received a comm from Khan in the last two weeks.


It had taken 5 months to get back to Earth; but they’d gotten the newscasts way before that. John was feeling rather exasperated at Khan. Regardless John and the others had quietly and quickly commandeered the Vengeance that was in the process of being repaired and retrofitted.

John beamed up the cryo-pods and replaced them with the empty ones. Seconds later they were traveling away from Earth at maximum warp in the direction of the remaining cryo-transport ship.


John was there when Khan woke from stasis.
“You great git! Really Khan, we’ve talked about you keeping a level head.”
“John…Am I dreaming?”
“You don’t dream in cryostasis Khan.”
With that John kissed Khan within an inch of his life.

Khan may not be Sherlock, but Khan for all his despotic tendencies was just what John wanted.