Chapter Text
Objective: Prove yourself a worthy Watson.
Attempt #1: Answer to name with according response.
“Who do you think you are, man? Sherlock Holmes?” the former soccer player teased.
“One and the same,” Holmes replied with a little bow. He was surprised to see how well known his name was, even in this strange future. If he were an arrogant man, he’d let it get to his head. But he wasn’t, of course. Self-aggrandizing was just as bad as self-admonishment, something Watson was an expert at. The REAL Watson. Not the machine trying to take his place.
“And I suppose he’s Watson,” the boy added.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance!” Watson chirped, bowing.
“Pay no heed. The robot’s delusional,” Holmes growled. “It believes it’s Watson just because it’s downloaded a few old books.”
He wouldn’t let this imposter sully his memories of the real John Watson. Watson was human, the epitome of human! No machine could replicate that.
Attempt #1: Failure. Bugger!
Attempt #2: Use era-appropriate standards of polite behavior.
Beth took down the attackers without much trouble. She had her ancestor’s excitability, alright. Holmes was honestly impressed. He never thought a woman would be able to best him in a boxing match, but these were strange days.
“Really, Holmes, as gentlemen, don’t you think we—” the machine began.
“Clearly the ‘lady’ can take care of herself,” Holmes cut in. “And please. You’re not a gentle man, you’re a robot.” Even if it insisted otherwise.
A woman Beth had knocked back smacked into the robot’s metal frame, leaving a a small dent in its foot with some smoke coming out.
“Dear me. I’m quite rusty at this.”
Holmes turned away to face Wiggins. He couldn’t look at that thing. Even if, just for a moment, it reminded him of an old friend.
Attempt #2: Failure. There’s always next time.
Attempt #3: Perform helpful act.
Error. Wires exposed. Integrity compromised. Systems shutting down…
Wires repaired. Reactivating Compudroid, Designation: “Watson…”
Systems online.
Visual systems online.
Location: London Underground.
Two organic life forms detected.
Identifying…
Identification complete. Why, it’s Holmes and Inspector Lestrade! What are they doing in restraints?
“Dear me. Let me get those handcuffs,” Watson said.
He opened his chest compartment, removing the device designed to remove the shackles. First he removed Beth’s, then Holmes’.
“Thanks. Good to have you back,” Beth told him.
Behavior indicates forgiveness for previous blunder regarding memo. That’s awfully kind of her.
Holmes seemed less hostile when he spoke to Watson next, but he still regarded him coldly. It was better than nothing.
Attempt #3: Failure. Stiff upper lip, Watson. You’ll get there.
Attempt #4: Protect Sherlock Holmes from harm.
Holmes swiftly dodged the lasers being shot at him. In their own way, they were less harmful than bullets. Easier to avoid. That is, until he slipped and fell. The laser gun was trained on him. He wouldn’t have enough time to get out of the way. To be brought back to life only to die a day or so later. Sad, wasn’t it.
He heard a cry from somewhere. Wasn’t that…?
“Watson?” Holmes grunted.
The machine jumped in the way of the blast. Holmes was safe, but Watson was hit in the leg. Just like another Watson he once knew. As the attacker came upon them, Holmes could not stand idly by.
“No!” Holmes shouted, using his cane to redirect the man’s aim. “Behind you! Stun him!” Watson did as he was asked, stunning the brute. The man was down, as was Watson.
“Holmes! Are you alright?” asked the robot.
“Me?! It’s you who are injured!” Holmes admonished. Taking another bullet for him. What was he thinking! “Does it hurt?”
“I’m made of metal, remember?” Watson reassured him.
Of course he was. This wasn’t Watson, it was a facsimile. A fake. He knew that. He hadn’t thought that this thing was…
“Let’s go. These boilers will blow any minute.”
Attempt #4: Inconclusive.
Attempt #5: Return to Holmes’ side at all cost.
The irony of Holmes shouting Watson’s name at a body of water was not lost on him. The roles at Reichenbach had been reversed.
“We’ll get you a new compudroid,” Beth told him.
“I don’t want any com-pu-droid,” Holmes insisted, still not familiar with the pronunciation of the word. “I want Watson!”
This machine was not John Watson. Nothing could ever perfectly replicate such a singular man. But it was Watson, in its own way. The same old Watson, recklessly putting himself in harm’s way to keep him safe. Wanting to help at every opportunity. Holmes had woken up in a strange new world, lost and confused. All he’d wanted was someone familiar to hold on to. A familiar hand to hold. And now that he’d finally gotten one, it was gone.
“Holmes? Is that you?”
“Watson?”
Watson stepped out of the Thames, drenched in its polluted water. He fell to his knees, apparently winded. Could robots feel exhaustion? It didn’t matter. Holmes went to his side.
“Oh, honestly, Watson. We’ve got to get you waterproofed if you’re going to continue with this tomfoolery,” Holmes said.
Replaying last spoken words.
Could it be?
“You called me Watson,” the robot realized.
“It is your name, isn’t it?” Holmes said back. “Look, old boy. I suppose I didn’t realize until I thought I’d lost you how much I had come to depend on you.”
They both knew he wasn’t just talking about the Watson sitting in front of him.
“One mustn’t judge the mettle of a person by his outside, which in your case is metal, but by what’s inside,” the detective asserted. He knocked on Watson’s metal casing. “Which is most decidedly Watson. Through and through.”
Attempt #5: Success. We did it, old man.
Warning: Unknown object in chest cavity.
Watson removed a fish from the inside of his chest cavity and threw it back into the river.
“Um, not completely,” he admitted.
Holmes laughed. Genuinely, truly laughed, for the first time since he’d awoken here. Watson did always have that effect on him.