Sherlock - The Game Is On!

The Great Game- One

Chapter One

Police Station. Assembly room. Belarus - Day

Sherlock and I found ourselves in a Soviet-era assembly room in a Belarussian prison. We sat opposite a shifty man in a Guantanamo orange jumpsuit called Bezza. Sherlock was losing patience. "Just tell us what happened. From the beginning."

"We'd been to a bar. Nice place. I got chatting to one of the waitresses and Karen weren't happy. So when we got back to the hotel we ended up having a ding-dong, didn't we? She was always getting at me. Saying I weren't a real man."

"I wasn't a real man." Sherlock corrected his grammar. "What?"

"It's not weren't, it's wasn't."

"Oh." Sherlock was getting agitated so I took over. "Go on." I slipped my hand in Sherlock's, something ether of us acquired to do for no reason at all. "Well, I dunno how but suddenly there was a knife in me hands. Me Dad was a butcher so I know how to handle knives. He learned us how to cut up a beast..."

"Taught."

"What?"

"He taught you how to cut up a beast." I elaborated. "Yea. Well. Then I done it."

"Did it."

"Did it. Stabbed her! Over and over! I looked down and I weren't..." We frowned at him. "Wasn't moving no more... Anymore." We nodded at him in appreciation. "God help me. I don't know how it happened but it was an accident. I swear it!" He starts to sob and we nod to the policeman, getting to our feet. "Look, you've gotta help me, Mr Holmes, Miss Phillips. Everyone says you're the best. Without you, I'll get hung for this."

"No, no, no Mr Bewick. Not at all." Looking up, reassured I decide to burst his bubble. "Hanged, yes." With that, we turn to the door and schedule our next flight back to Britain. "God, his grammar was atrocious." I flabbergasted. Sherlock turns my hand so it nestles in the crook of his arm. "Making purpose eye contact when you're trying to look innocent doesn't really work." He stated. With that we boarded the private jet.

At some point I fell asleep, waking up groggy whilst we were landing. "Sherlock?" I questioned rubbing my eyes. He chuckled lowly before picking me up bridal-style. "Shh go back sleep, I've got you." With that I started to fall asleep peacefully in his arms. "My darling girl..." It sounded like he murmured.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

I woke up to Sherlock's boredness. I left the bedroom and prepped some experiments for Sherlock. Door flying open, John comes through and argues with Sherlock. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"Bored."

"What?"

"Bored." BANG! "Bored." BANG! "Bored. I don't know what's got into the criminal classes. It's a good job I'm not one of them." I came through the living room with the yellow spray can and drew a smiley face on the adjourning wall. Smiling to myself I sat down on the sofa wrapped up in my dressing gown. "So you take it out on the wall?"

"Oh John, the wall had it coming in Sherlock's eyes." I muttered. "What about the Russian case?" I grabbed my cigarettes and lit one whilst scrolling through my phone. "Belarus. Open and shut domestic murder. Not worth our time."

"Shame. Anything in? I'm starving." John strolls through the kitchen whilst I shout: "There's a head in the fridge!" The fridge door opens and closes. "A head. A severed head." Sherlock chucks himself on the shared sofa lying his head in my lap. "Just a tea for me, thanks."

"There's a head in the fridge!" Sherlock tried prying the cigarette out my hands. "No, Sherlock you stated you quit." I slapped his hands away. "A bloody head!" Huffing a breath, he snuggled his head further into my lap before replying to John: "Had to put it somewhere. You don't mind, do you? Michelle doesn't. Got it from St Bart's morgue. I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death... I see you've written up the Taxi Driver case."

"Um... Yeah."

" 'A Study In Pink'. Nice." John came out of the kitchen to look at us with a humoured glint in his eyes. "What?" I questioned. Shaking his head he responded: "Well, you know. Pink lady, Pink case, Pink phone. There was a lot of pink. Did you like it?"

"I did." Smiling at him. "Er... No."

"Why not? I thought you'd be flattered."

"Flattered?" Getting up from his position Sherlock started spit-firing John's blog. " 'Sherlock sees right through everyone and everything in seconds. What's incredible, though is how spectacularly ignorant he is about some things'."

"Hang on, I didn't mean..." I responded next: "What you meant 'spectacularly ignorant' in a nice way?"

"Look, it doesn't matter to me who's Prime Minister. Or who's sleeping with who."

"Or that the earth goes round the sun?" John mumbled, sitting down. Sherlock shot up from his position pivoting on the sofa to face John. "Oh that again. It's not important."

"Not important! It's primary school stuff! How can you not know that?"

"Because he deleted it." I responded whilst messaging Anthea. "Deleted it?"

"Listen." Jabbing his finger to his temple. "THIS is my hard drive. It only makes sense to put stuff in there that's useful. Really useful. Ordinary people fill their brains with all kinds of rubbish and then it's impossible to get at the stuff that matters. You follow?"

"But it's the solar system!"

"Why the hell does that matter? So we go around the sun! If we went round the moon or round and round the garden like a teddy bear it wouldn't make any difference."

"Oh he remembers nursery rhymes? Must of played a large to your childhood." I said. "All that matters is the work. Without it, my brain rots. Put that on your blog. Or, better still, stop inflicting your opinions on the world." John glares at him then me before heading towards the door. "Where are you going?"

"Out! I need some air."

"Give Sarah my love." I said before he bumped into Mar-Mar. "You two had a little domestic." Sherlock springs up and looks out the window. "Look at that, Mrs Hudson. Quiet. Calm. Peaceful. Isn't it hateful?"

"I'm sure a nice little murder will cheer you up." She stated before retreating but not without noticing the wall. "Oi! What have you done to my bloody wall!" She mentions something of adding it to the rent before leaving. Sherlock turns to face his work, smiling brightly at it. I stood up to put my cigarette butt in the ashtray before the windows shattered and a loud un-earthy bang erupted.

Sherlock threw himself towards me and we toppled the floor together. My ears were ringing and I felt liquid treacle down my head. "Michelle!" Sitting up I felt my head. Blood. "I'm alright, are you alright?" I asked. He smiled before getting the first aid kit out and cleaning my head. "Thanks. Think I've got a concussion." I added. He smiled brightly before wrapping his arms around me, tucking his head in the crook of my neck. Inhaling deeply. "Are you okay, Sherlock?" He said nothing. I let him do what he needed whilst I held him in my arms before falling asleep.