Sherlock - The Game Is On!

The Sign Of Three- Five

Chapter Five

Third POV

The interior of a grand building and a room with a large old painting on the wall and a suit of armour stand nearby. A steady regular thumping sound can be heard. Around the corner of a room reveals a running machine. Mycroft, dressed in gym clothes, is jogging on the machine. After a while he switches it off and jumps off, breathing heavily. He walks a few paces away, then stops and lifts his top to examine his stomach, patting it reflectively and looking quite pleased with himself. On a nearby table, his phone rings. He picks it up and answers. "Yes, what, Sherlock?"

"Why are you out of breath?"

"Filing."

"Either I've caught you in a compromising position or you've been working out again. I favour the latter."

"What do you want?"

"I need your answer, Mycroft, as a matter of urgency."

"'Answer'?"

"Even at the eleventh hour it's not too late, you know."

"Oh, Lord." Mycroft sighs to himself. "Cars can be ordered, private jets commandeered."

"Today. It's today, isn't it? No, Sherlock, I will not be coming to the 'night do,' as you so poetically put it."

"What a shame. Mary and John will be extremely d..."

"Delighted not to have me hanging around." Mycroft finished. "Oh, I don't know. There should always be a spectre at the feast." Mycroft picks up a glass of juice from nearby. "So, this is it, then. The big day. I suppose I'll be seeing a lot more of you from now on."

"What do you mean?"

"Just like old times."

"No, I don't understand. I've still got Michelle." He mutters. "Well, it's the end of an era, isn't it? John and Mary, domestic bliss." Whether he heard Sherlock's last sentence was either unnoticed or he chose to take no notice of it. "No, no, no, I prefer to think of it as the beginning of a new chapter." Mycroft simply smiles. "What?"

"Nothing!"

"I know that silence. What?" Sherlock pesters on, furthermore. "Well, I'd better let you get back to it. You have a big speech, or something, don't you?"

"What?" Sherlock was still demanding an answer. "Cake, karaoke... Mingling."

"Mycroft!"

"This is what people do, Sherlock, they get married. I warned you: don't get involved."

"Involved? I'm not involved."

"No. So what's Michelle?"

"John asked me to be his best man. How could I say no?" Sherlock overlooked the question about Michelle. "Absolutely!"

"I'm not involved!"

"I believe you! Really, I do! Have a lovely day, and do give the happy couple my best."

"I will." Sherlock lowers the phone, about to switch it off when Mycroft speaks again. Sherlock lifts the phone to his ear once more. "Oh, by the way, Sherlock, do you remember Redbeard? Pinkpatch, even?" Sherlock's jaw tightens. "I'm not a child any more, Mycroft."

"No, of course you're not. Enjoy not getting involved, Sherlock." Sherlock hangs up. He looks down for a moment, thinking.

Redbeard was his best friend, a dog. Pinkpatch, from what he remembers was the neighbours dog, however he wasn't certain. Sherlock, since he was home from a two year mission, got fragments of flashbacks about Pinkpatch. For some reason, he remembers it being a little girl. A little girl who loved to play pirates.

Shaking his head he then walks across the room towards the top table.