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Over-Lap [Sherlock + MCU]

Chapter Text

It started with a bang. That was for certain.


Sherlock Holmes had been sitting in his armchair, deep in his mind palace. He was oblivious to his flatmate John Watson stepping up the stairs with a heapful of groceries. He poked his head in the living room to find Sherlock immersed in thought.

"Never helps with the groceries," He muttered, placing the bags on the kitchen counter, moving aside a few jars of tongues to the side. John did little to question it, though. It was simply expected when you lived with Sherlock. John ran a hand through his combed back nearly white hair, sighing, when something caught his eye.

"Sherlock... What's that?" John asked, walking over to him. Sherlock snapped out of his mind palace. He glanced down at the strange metal necklace he had in his hand.

"I... don't know..." He muttered, running his fingers over the strange markings and symbols running on it. "I was searching my mind palace for anything on it, but I can't recognize anything about it, the symbols, the metal, what it means," He gripped it tighter causing his knuckles turning white, in frustration.

"It's glowing," John noticed, tilting his head, "Is it supposed to do that?"

Both men stared at the amulet as it seemed to float from Sherlock's hand and pause in the air between the two. A faint humming noise grew louder, then a flash of white, then nothing.


Stephen Strange rose from his chair to answer the knock on his door. He opened it to find a short, slender man with light blonde hair combed back and dark blue eyes.

"Everett Ross, CIA," He said, holding up that ID card that government officials always do.

"Not another government official," He sighed.

Everett rose an eyebrow at him. Stephen rolled his eyes.

"Come in," He muttered, stepping aside so that the man could enter the Sanctum Sanctorum.

"So how can I help you on this fine day, Mr. Ross?" Stephen asked, sarcasm just dripping from his voice like poison, once they had been seated in armchairs at the base of the grand staircase.

"Alright listen Strange, I know enough about you and I really don't want to be here just as much as you, so let's make this quick and I can get outta here, okay?"

"You know it's Doctor, right? People always seem to forget the fact that I have a MD, twelve years worth of study with the specialty of neurosurgery, they only seem to care about the fact I'm an all-powerful sorcerer," He sighed, supporting his head with his fist on the armchair dramatically. Stephen liked the fact that that had gotten a small ghost of a smile playing on the edges of Everett's lips.

"Mkay, Doctor. Well, I'm here, because we need to register your Eye of Aga-whatsitcalled."

Stephen tilted his head slightly. "And why is this just now a problem? Shouldn't it have been registered before?"

"Considering, previously, it wasn't on American soil, and it held no power or worth, we didn't have a reason to worry about it. And speaking of it, where did it go?"

"What are you talking abou-?" Stephen snapped, looking down at his chest, to see no Eye of Agamotto.

"Shit..." He cursed under his breath, looking back up.

Everett smirked.

"Not now, Ross," Stephen snapped, standing up, his red cloak ruffling behind him. He pulled out his sling ring, slipped it on, and sparks started forming. But before he could get any farther than a single gold line, a bang sent both Everett Ross and Stephen Strange flying straight against a wall.


After a few minutes of quiet, the two men cautiously rose from atop the rubble. They both looked around bewildered. John rushed over to a pale hand outstretched from beneath the rubble. He gripped it, and pulled the person it was connected to out. As they stood up and looked at each, they nearly recoiled. In front of John stood a nearly spitting image of himself, besides slight variations with the different eye color, lighter skin, fluffier hair, and the gray suit that his "twin" was wearing.

Sherlock simply stared at his surroundings with no emotion portrayed on his face. He briskly walked over to help a man that had been flipped over from the force of the blast. He offered his hand, hesitantly, mimicking John. The man groaned. He shakily got up by himself, leaving Sherlock's offered hand to drop limply to his side. Standing up straight, he looked Sherlock straight in the eye. They were both momentarily shocked, but that shock soon turned into glares toward each other. Staring back at Sherlock was a man with identical thin icy blue eyes, sharp cheekbones, and a slender and tall figure. He also had a cloak too, one that seemed to be alive and inching towards a corner Sherlock's coat. The man glanced down briefly at it to slap it away.

Both men walked to their respective friend, Sherlock and John side by side facing Everett and Stephen, side by side, almost like each man was about to battle his look alike. They all stood like that for several seconds, simply staring and searching each other in amazement and confusion.

"I have a feeling we're not at Baker Street anymore," Sherlock' rumbled, keeping eye contact with the man opposite him

"No shit, Sherlock," John snorted.

Chapter Text

The great grandfather clock ticking in the background was the only sound that could be heard in the empty silence.


That seemed to be the only present sound that was drilling a hole into Everett's brain.

Upon the two men's arrival out of nowhere, Everett and Stephen's recovery from the mysterious blast, the four had stared at each other atop the rubble for what seemed like forever. Then, Dr. Strange had awkwardly cleared his throat and used the Eye of Agamotto (which he had childishly snatched from his look-alike's hand the minute he saw him grasping it) to reverse time and return the Sanctum Sanctuary back to its previous state. He had then motioned for the two strangers to take a seat.

Now, here the group was, in four leather armchairs around a coffee table positioned to the left of the base of the grand staircase staring at one another. Stephen has summoned Everett a Starbucks coffee, which the CIA agent now mindlessly fingered the cardboard sleeve around the cup. He had, in turn, summoned a cup of tea for Everett's twin, and the man seemed pleasantly surprised at it. He now stared awkwardly into its murky water.

Both Stephen and the man sitting opposite didn't have any drinks, though. Instead, it seemed they were content on simply having a stare-off, seeing whose cold, icy blue eyes would break eye contact first, which would proclaim them weaker than the other, it seemed to Everett.

Going crazy from the only sound being the ticking of the clock in the background, Everett finally decided to break the silence.

"Uh- How about we start with the formalities, hm boys?" He asked. "Everett Ross, CIA," He explained, sticking out his hand to the gray-haired man sitting across from him.

"Doctor John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers," He replied pleasantly as he softly smiled, grasping Everett's hand in a firm handshake. Everett found it slightly strange upon noticing his British accent.

"Right," Everett trailed, shifting his gaze over to Stephen still staring down the other man.

Everett cleared his throat, trying to break the two men out of whatever the hell they were doing.

Stephen, at last, broke his gaze away and carefully straightened himself. "Doctor Stephen Strange, Protector of the Mystic Arts," He stated, his voice the epitome of monotone.

The man across from him slightly tilted his head at his introduction, but besides that, showed no other emotion.

"Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective," His deep baritone voice rumbled. Neither offered a hand to the other. They just looked one other up and down, as if sizing them up.

Everett couldn't help but think of it as one animal encountering another in his way, each equally opposing, and on the verge of fighting. Everett and John were like the tourists watching in eagerness and amusement.


Sherlock was so petty sometimes, John couldn't stand it.

He rolled his eyes, casting a look towards Everett. Everett chuckled softly, noticing John's exasperated look.

"What is that?" Sherlock said abruptly.

"What's what, Sherlock?" John asked, confused.

"That... necklace.." Sherlock responded, his gaze fixed on the metal necklace with a slightly glowing green stone in the middle of the amulet hanging around Stephen Strange's neck.

"It's called the Eye of Agamotto," Stephen replied briskly.

"And how does it work?"


Sherlock stared at Stephen, raising an eyebrow.

"How does it work?" He repeated, leaning forward.

Stephen crosses his legs and rested his arms on the armrests on either side of him. "Magic," He also repeated.

Sherlock looked to John for help, but narrowed his eyes when he saw John and Everett with equally wide grins on their face.

"Yea, but actually," John interrupted.

"How many times do I have to repeat it in order for it to get through your heads? It. Works. By. Magic."

John's smile slowly slid from his face, but Everett continued to watch with satisfaction.

They had obviously been smiling for different reasons, John realized that now.

"Can I see it?" Sherlock asked, holding out a slender, nimble hand.


"Please," Sherlock muttered, the word pronounced as if it were the plague itself.

"Well, now that you used some manners, of course- Not."

Sherlock pulled back his hand and glared at him.

John knew that now that Sherlock had learned politeness would get him nowhere, he would opt for his usual method of getting what he wanted. And John bit his lip, trying to prepare himself for what was about to happen next.

"Let's see here. Neurosurgeon, highly successful at that, over-confident and greedy, no doubt that you resorted to this lifestyle after killing your career in a way, early 40's, unmarried yet interested in a certain someone, most likely a nurse or some kind of assistant at your hospital, and- oh, suffered from a car crash around a year ago."

Sherlock leaned back in the armchair, seemingly satisfied with his observations.

"Now. You," Sherlock announced, jabbing a finger at Everett. "Ex-fighter pilot, now fulfills a prominent government role, unmarried, also have meddled with "magic" of African origin, I can tell from the symbols on that strange beaded bracelet you're wearing, and, you own a cat."

John pinched the bridge of his nose. It could have been worse.

But it was about to get worse.

Chapter Text

And before they knew it, their time with Stephen Strange and Everett Ross was over.



Sherlock rose from his seat, seemingly fine with complying with Steven's request. John, on the other hand, didn't seem to handle it so well.


"You heard me. Get out, both of you." Stephen repeated, gripping the armrests and narrowing his already thinning eyes.

John looked as if he wanted to say something, but he kept his mouth shut. The two scurried out towards the double doors at the entrance of the building.

"Now, that wasn't exactly being a good host, was it?" Everett asked, sipping his coffee and glancing at Stephen. The sorcerer's gaze was still on the two men leaving.

"Shut up, Ross," Stephen growled, at last breaking his gaze away as the doors closed behind them.

Everett simply stared into his coffee with a sassy look on his face. "I'm just saying."


"You just had to, didn't you?" John asked miserably, closing the door behind him.

Sherlock didn't respond, much less pay attention to what John was saying. He was too busy scanning the busy crowd of New York around them from the steps in front of the Sanctum Sanctorum.

He felt no regret over what he did. The man was cocky and self-centered. Sherlock was glad to put him in his place by exposing the personal aspects of his life. He really didn't understand what the big deal was, but John seemed to see it as such, so Sherlock supposed he might as well have second thoughts on it.

"Did you ever stop to think that maybe pissing them off wasn't such a good idea, considering they're the only two people who seem to have any connection to us being transported halfway across the world-"

"In an alternate universe."

John stared at him. Sherlock turned his head to look over John. He wore that confused expression that he so often did. Sherlock sighed, knowing he would have to explain it.

"Look at the advertisements, John. From what I know of American brands, their names are all slightly off, with small tweaks to the spelling of names to the color and shape of their logos. It seems that we have somehow been warped into another dimension, not unlike our own."

Suddenly, what seemed like a gold and red human robot flew over them above the buildings. The people around them cheered and waved.

"Don't tell me that was Iron Man," John said miserably.

Sherlock couldn't help but smile at his blogger's remark.

Chapter Text

Just your average NYC scene plus one sorcerer, detective, government agent, ex-army doctor, and oh, now one genius billionaire playboy philanthropist.


Stephen and Everett sat there in silence for a bit. Stephen had now decided that he liked Everett. He studied the man's face, knowing now was the time to keep quiet because Everett was silently fuming.

"Yea, I'm going after them." Everett abruptly stood up.

"Why, we were getting on just fine without them," Stephen replied.

Everett must have taken that as sarcasm, which Stephen had not meant, and so he was generally hurt by the man's reaction.

Everett snorted, "Yea, sure. But c'mon, you aren't the littlest bit intrigued?"

Stephen grunted. "Fine."


Sherlock and John sat on a park bench. Sherlock was once again immersed in his mind palace, while John glumly watched some pigeons.

In the back of his consciousness, Sherlock took note of a man walking towards them, looking very out of place amongst the joggers, children, and dog walkers because of the formal suit he was wearing. It turned out to be Everett once he had come to a stop in front of them.

"Uh, listen-" He started, trying to regain his composure, "I just wanted to apologize on behalf of Stephen. He can be a jerk, I get it, and I've barely known him longer than you have, actually."

John gave a slight smile and nudged Sherlock, who left grudgingly left his mind palace and came to attention.

"But anyway, I just wanted to ask- what the hell is going on? Why do you look like me? Why does he look like him? Where'd you guys even come from anyway?"

"Alternate universe," Sherlock responded as if it was obvious the most obvious thing in the world.

"Because that's not the weirdest thing that's happened to me.." Everett muttered, rubbing his eyes.

Sherlock was unamused by the man's attempt at a joke but John chuckled.

"To go more in detail, it appears that Strange's 'Eye of Agamotto' fell through a hole in between universes and went from his possession to an alternate persona in another universe, and that persona would be me. When the object was being pulled back into its original dimension, somehow, John and I got sucked in for the ride along with it."

"Huh. Well, I guess that would make us your only hope when it comes to getting you guys back where you came from."

"It appears so."

"Well then," Everett clapped and rubbed his hands. "Let's give this another try, shall we?"


"You're back," Stephen said, almost as if it was a question.

Everett closed the door behind them and gave Stephen a look as if telling him not to screw up this time.

"Yes, well, it seems you and Everett here are our only hope when it comes to us returning to whence we came. Unfortunately..."

Stephen chose to ignore both Everett and John looking like they were about to kill someone. "You know, just because you share my devilishly handsome features doesn't mean-"

"Okay! Anyway," John interrupted nervously, "Would the two of you be willing to help us?"

"If you're friend could not be so keen on pissing me off, maybe."

"Well maybe it would not be as big of a problem as you are making it if you weren't so sensitive to a blow towards your overinflated ego, you narcissistic-"

"Neither of you are helping the current situation, you know that right?" Everett announced.



"Is helping the situation. The word you is being used as a singular-"

Everett pinched the bridge of his nose "Just- you know what I mean."

"Mhm," Stephen mumbled, already bored with the conversation. He rose from the armchair he was still seated in. "Well, let's get started, shall we? We're gonna have to do a collective search of the Sanctum library if I'm to perform a spell able to send the two of you back to your respective universe since I have never encountered anything remotely similar to this situation."

Before anything else could happen, a crash going the roof and into the floor between the men nearly killed them all. Again. They all stared in shock at the sparking pile of metal and rubble that lay in front of them.

Tony Stark struggled to his feet. He tapped his neck, his helmet disappearing as he did. He took a moment to scan his surroundings, his eyes finally landing on Stephen. "Just thought I'd drop in." He smirked.