Sherlock - The Game Is On!

The Six Thatchers- One

Chapter One

"What you're about to see is classified beyond top secret." A video footage was on show, the scene was of the patio at Appledore shortly before Sherlock shot Charles Magnussen.

Mycroft stands with his back to a table behind which sat Lady Elizabeth Smallwood herself and Sir Edwin. Near them sits a woman in her early seventies with a notebook and pen on her lap. Sherlock and I sit on chair near my brother in-law, facing the table. "Is that quite clear? Don't minute any of this." Mycroft last sentence aimed to the elder lady. The woman, who was just about to put on her glasses, lowers them again and folds her hands in her lap.

"Once beyond these walls, you must never speak of it. A D-notice has been slapped on the entire incident. Only those within this room, code names: Antarctica, Langdale, Porlock, Love and... Lady Holmes." I break out into a pearly tooth grin. I'm not married yet but I love the ring of my future name. From my left side of peripheral view, I could see Sherlock smiling and from my right I could see Mycroft grin, only very briefly though. I wanted my code name to be PinkPatch but he needed something more encrypted. Mycroft is such a spoil sport. "Will ever know the whole truth."

Sherlock has his head down, rapidly texting, quietly. "As far as everyone else is concerned, going to the Prime Minister and way beyond, Charles Augustus... Are you tweeting?!" He glares across to Sherlock, who looks up guiltily and covers his phone even as the sound of a tweet being sent is heard. "No." He deadpanned. "Well, that's what it looks like."

"Of course I'm not tweeting. Why would I be tweeting?"

"Give me that." Quickly walking across, he reaches for the phone. "What? No. Get off. What are you doing?" Sherlock tries to hang on to the phone with both hands while Mycroft struggles to get hold of it. "Get off!"

"Give it here." Mycroft demands, finally pulling the phone from Sherlock's hands and looking at the screen. "'Back on terra firman'."

"Don't read them out."

"'Free as a bird'."

"God, you're such a spoilsport. Michelle, tell him."

"Don't bring me into this, it's your problem." I gesture. "Wow, thank you." He scoffs like an unhappy child. "Will you take this matter seriously, Sherlock?"

"I am taking it seriously. What makes you think I'm not taking it seriously?"

"'Hashtag OhWhatABeautifulMorning'." Mycroft reads, shaking his side to side. I chuckled quietly to myself. "Look, not so long ago I was on a mission that meant certain death. My death and now I'm back, in a nice warm office with my big brother and my fiancée and... Are those ginger nuts?" He looks excitedly at a plate on the table and springs to his feet to walk.

"لعنت په خاطر" (.Fucks sake)

"Oh, God."

I cuss in Pashto whilst Mycroft spoke. "Love ginger nuts." He grabs a handful of the biscuits from the plate. "Our doctor said you were clean." Lady Smallwood stated unsurely. "He is, utterly." I muttered. "No need for stimulants now, remember? I have work to do." He crunches into one of the biscuits. "You're high as a kite!" Sir Eustace accused. "Natural high, I assure you. Totally natural. I'm just..." He begins to sing dramatically while holding his hands out: "Glad to be aliiiiiive!"

Laughing to himself, he lowers his hands, still chomping on his mouthful of biscuit. "What shall we do next? What's your name?" He points to the woman. "Vi-Vivian." She stutters. "What would you do, Vivian?"

"Pardon?"

"Well, it's a lovely day. Go for a stroll?" Lady Smallwood frowns at him and shakes her head in disbelief. Sir Edwin puts his hand over his face. I sigh out heavily. "Make a paper aeroplane? Have an ice lolly?" He takes another bite of a biscuit. "Ice lolly, I suppose."

"Ice lolly it is! What's your favourite?"

"Well, really, I shouldn't..."

"Go on." Sherlock encourages. "Do they still do Mivvis?"

"Mr Holmes." Lady Smallwood presses firmly. "Yes?" They chime. Mycroft looks across to Sherlock, then lowers his head in exasperation. "We do need to get on."

"Yes, of course." Using the remote control, he rewinds the footage. There are two screens facing the table which those behind it can watch and the sound of the helicopter hovering in front of the Appledore patio can be heard. Sherlock swipes his phone from Mycroft and gestures dramatically with it at his brother before sitting down in the chair again while tucking the phone into the inside pocket of his jacket.

- - Do your research. - -

The footage shows a distant shot of Sherlock walking towards Magnussen.

- - I'm not a hero. I'm a high functioning sociopath. - -

The footage moves to the headcam of an operative nearer to the patio. As someone runs across the camera, very briefly blocking out the view, Sherlock is seen with his hand still lowered, and a gunshot rings out. Magnussen falls backwards and Sherlock can be seen dropping John's pistol and instantly raising his hands. Behind him, John stares at Magnussen and, for a moment, starts to move towards him. The footage jumps back a second or two.

- - Sociopath. - -

Footage from the telescopic sight of a rifle shows two red dots on Magnussen's face as he stands upright on the patio. A gunshot rings out and Magnussen falls to the ground.

- - Sociopath. - -

The footage again shows Magnussen being shot without Sherlock raising his own gun. In the parliamentary room, the footage continues to repeat. "I see. Who is supposed to have shot him, then?"

"Some over eager squaddie with an itchy trigger finger, that's who." Sir Eustace gestured on. "That's not what happened at all." He mumbles taking another bite of the biscuit. "It is now."

"Remarkable. How did you do it?"

"We have some very talented people working here. If James Moriarty can hack every TV screen in the land, rest assured we have the tech to, er... Doctor a bit of security footage." Sherlock stares at me and slowly after, everyone else does too. "What?" I question. Sherlock gives a cheeky grin. "Impressive, do pray tell, what else can you do?" Lady Smallwood asks. "Currently, I'm working on MI figures and The Prime Ministers security. But in general, I can do anything because I am better." I dismiss.

Sherlock tosses a piece of biscuit towards his open mouth. It misses and falls down the side of his lap. He scrabbles to recover it. Standing up, I take the control from Mycroft and pivot around the room. "That is now the official version; The version anyone we want to, will see." I determine.

"No need to go to the trouble of getting some sort of official pardon. You're off the hook, Mr Holmes. You're home and dry." Mycroft folds his arms and looks sternly down at his brother. "Okay, cheers." Putting the last bit of biscuit in his mouth and holding it between his lips, he jumps up and starts to button his jacket, then reaches for his greatcoat and my jacket. "Obviously there's unfinished business. Moriarty."

"I told you. Moriarty's dead." Sherlock muffles out. "You say he filmed that video message before he died." Sherlock pauses for a moment. "Yes."

"You also say you know what he's going to do next. What does that mean?"

"Perhaps that's all there is to it. Perhaps he was just trying to frighten you."

"No, no. He would never be that disappointing. He's planned something; something long-term; Something that would take effect if he never made it off that rooftop alive. Posthumous revenge. No, better than that. Posthumous game."

"We brought you back to deal with this. What are you going to do?"

"Wait." Sherlock states, holding the jacket open for me. "'Wait'?!"

"Of course wait. He is, after all the target. Targets wait. Whatever's coming, whatever he's lined up, we'll know when it begins." I answered. "I always know when the game is on. D'you know why?"

"Why?" Lady Smallwood exasperates. "Because I love it." Nodding to his brother and the rest in the room, he threads my arm through his own and we walk out.