Sophia Holmes and the Duplicate Man (Sherlock's Daughter Fanfic) *Completed*

Chapter Twelve - The Duplicate Man Part III

The man standing in front of me is identical to dad in everything from his dark hair and heavy brows to his sharp cheekbones. Only his American accent distinguishes him. 

My first reaction is to think this is all some kind of prank being played on me by dad and that with a cheap accent and a surgical mask he's trying to pass himself off as a doctor. But why would he?

And once you've discounted that, there is only one possible answer: dad really does have a duplicate.

Strange frowns as he watches me think things through and introduces himself again. "I'm the doctor who treated you for your cranial nerve injury last month. You called me to treat Mr Rhodes."

"Yes, sorry, I know who you are," I say, shaking my head and giving him a smile. "Thank you for coming."

"How has your sight recovered? Are you still dependent on those glasses?"

"Mm? Oh yeah, I am." Strange, obviously reaching the conclusion that I'm some kind of idiot, gives me a look before walking away. I bite my lip and call after him. "Sorry it's just ... have you ever heard of my father, Sherlock Holmes?"

"He's a detective in England," Strange says, his brow furrowed as he fails to see the point to this. "I've heard his name in news reports."

"But you've never seen a picture of him?"

"Should I have?"

My cheeks go red. "Sorry, it's just you are his spitting image. It's quite eerie, actually." 

"Right... okay." He goes to turn, but I quickly bring up a picture on Google of him wearing the hat.

"Here, look."

"Actually, I have a patient..." He trails off as he turns back, catching a glimpse of the photo on the screen. He paces back towards me, snatching the phone from my hands and scrolling through the pictures. "That's not possible," he says at last, in a low voice.

"It's more than just the face too," I say, getting back into myself as I regain his attention. "You're both exactly the same height, weight and build. You have the same pattern of moles on your forearms. You even have his attention-span and intelligence. You're alike in almost every way."

Strange studies me carefully. "How?"

"No idea," I reply, shaking my head with a broad smile.  "But I know someone who might."