Recent conversation on tumblr regarding a nudie purported to be Benedict Cumberbatch (torso only):

Person to remain unnamed for the sake of no reason at all: Not that I have spent a ridiculous amount of time staring at the original source material or anything, but that ain't Ben.

Me: ssshhhhhhhh Let us have our fantasies…

Person: Keep your fantasies, girl. This dude just don't do it for me the way the Cumberbod does. The ovaries *know*.

Me: *Chortles* The ovaries…the ovaries know…the ovaries know….hmmmm…

The story itself is much less cracky except in bits, than the origin and title might imply. But it is a Star Trek: Into Darkness/Sherlock for-realsies crossover ficlet that includes The Other Holmes Brother...well, just read it. You'll see. Oh, and I don't own the line "no touchy touchy my pathologist" but I can't recall where it came from, sorry! If you come forward and claim ownership, I will glady heap credit upon you!

"How did you know it wasn't me?" Sherlock demanded as he helped Molly place the specially reinforced manacles on the prisoner's wrists. The Augment was unconscious and would be for at least five minutes - far less time than if he was a normal human, but long enough for the two of them to get him into the holding cell of the speciallly constructed shuttlecraft Sherlock had used to race - he mistakenly believed - to his wife's rescue after she'd been kidnapped by the madman that had once been his brother Connor.

"My ovaries," Molly replied, her expression entirely serious.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "Explain," he said as he finished locking the manacles into place.

Molly shrugged and moved to stand by the controls to the cell, raising an eyebrow as she waited for Sherlock to drag his unfortunate twin from where he currently lay unconscious. "They didn't explode. When he kissed me," she clarified. Or rather, didn't clarify, only further muddied the waters.

Sherlock scowled, certain she was chuffing him, then did as Molly was clearly waiting for him to do and dragged Connor - now known as Khan, although Sherlock could never bring himself to use that arrogant apellation - to his cell. Being awoken in the 24th century had been quite the experience, but at least he and Molly hadn't fallen into Admiral Marcus' less-than-gentle hands. No, the Section 31 agents who had covertly stolen them from Connor's group and replaced them with volunteers who'd been surgically altered to resemble them had done so knowing how Marcus was using Connor to design weapons of war. A war - with an alien race known as the Klingsons - those other Section agents were not keen on starting, thank God.

Then Sherlock's mind caught up with what Molly had just said, and he gaped at her before scowling down at his brother's still-unconscious form. He considered - very briefly - kicking the shit out of him for touching Molly (no touchy touchy my pathologist! some primal part of his mind bellowed, sounding rather drunken) but instead elected to step out of the cell and allow Molly to activate the force field that would keep Connor inside.

"He kissed you?" he demanded as he strode to Molly's side, cheek twitching as he once again considered kicking the shit out of his brother. Who wouldn't feel a thing, damn him and his enhanced biology.

A dimple appeared in Molly's cheek and her lips twitched, but she otherwise managed to control her obvious humour at his possessive reaction. "Well, Sherlock," she said reasonably, "he was trying to pretend he was you. You meeting up with me after a rather long separation, so of course he kissed me. But it didn't feel right," she added, her humour vanishing and her warm brown eyes meeting his blue-green orbs with absolute seriousness. She reached up and caressed her husband's cheeks with both hands, stepping closer and tilting her head. "Now, I've been a very good girl, letting myself be kidnapped and managing to knock Connor out so you could tie him up and take him prisoner again. Don't I deserve a reward?"

Sherlock's lips on hers, his arms encircling her and hauling her close to his body, were more than answer enough. She even managed to ignore the smirk she felt against her mouth when the kiss ended, just as she ignored Connor's scowl as he glowered at the two of them once he regained consciousness.

She knew she'd chosen the right brother, and always would. Connor and Sherlock might look alike, but like the old song said… "It's in his kiss," she murmured as she pulled Sherlock down for a very satisfying second snog.