The Game is On

“The game is on,” said Mycroft Holmes.

 

“I hate this game,” Sherlock said harshly.

 

“You move first, Sherly.”

 

“Sod off. There. I moved.”

 

“Think more carefully, Sherlock,” Mycroft moved one of his knights.

 

“This game is stupid.”

 

“Sherlock, please …”

 

“This game sucks.”

 

“Only because you know you’ll lose.”

 

“Yes Mycroft, everyone knows I’ll lose,” Sherlock retaliated bitterly.

 

“Well if you just thought like me and stopped protecting him —” he was cut off.

 

“But he’s mine.” A pair of bright green eyes glared darkly beneath hair that really needs to be cut.

 

“Why this one, though? Why him?”

 

“Because he’s my friend, unlike you.”

 

“But why out of all the —”

 

“Not that I want to be friends with you anyway.”

 

“I’m just suggesting that perhaps —”

 

“No.”

 

“He’s just a soldier, though.” Mycroft looked up and knew he said something wrong. Sherlock kicked the table aggressively and leapt out of his chair, snatching up the soldier.

 

He wasn’t just a solider. He was the soldier.

 

“MYCROFT!” Sherlock shouted from the other end of the house.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Your status has been upgraded!”

 

“To what?”

 

“My arch arch arch arch ARCH enemy!”

 

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