Brilliant {A BBC Sherlock Fanfic}

Chapter Eighteen: Check Mate

Dedicated to @Shememmy

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: CHECK MATE

"No, no, no!" Sherlock shouted at the television screen, arms folded across his chest. "Of course he's not the boy's father-look at the turn-ups on his jeans!" He muttered profanities under his breath, irritated that Amelia wasn't here to agree with him.

She had texted him earlier, apologising that she was unable to get the milk Sherlock had asked for as Mycroft had suddenly asked her to complete paperwork for the Bruce-Partington case, and was unable to come home anytime soon. To which Sherlock had promptly responded with slight irritation, but let her be. He knew better than anyone what Mycroft was like if he didn't have his way.

"Knew it was dangerous." said John, barely looking up from the screen of his laptop.

"Hm?"

"Getting you into crap telly."

Sherlock hummed in agreement. He blew out a breath, "Not a patch on Connie Prince."

"Have you given Mycroft the memory stick yet?" John asked, hasty to change the subject before Sherlock went on one of his infamous rambles about the injustice in society, and how he didn't get the credit he deserved.

"Yep." Sherlock said. "He was over the moon. Threatened me with a knighthood again."

John chuckled under his breath. "You know, I'm still waiting."

"Hm?"

"For you to admit that a little knowledge of the solar system and you'd have cleared up the fake painting a lot quicker."

"Didn't do you any good, did it?" Sherlock said, contemptuous.

"No, but I'm not the world's only consulting detective." John shot back.

Sherlock smiled at that. "True."

John closed his laptop, rising to his feet. "I won't be in for tea." He said, eyeing Sherlock. "I'm going to Sarah's. There's still some of that risotto left in the fridge. Make sure to leaves Ames some, or she'll bite your head off."

"Mm; don't become between Amy and her food, yes, I've heard this rule before." Sherlock said, nodding.

"Uh, milk." John said, hovering in the doorway. "We need milk."

"Amy was going to get it. I'll get some."

John was in shock, unable to believe the words coming from his friend's mouth. "Really?"

"Really."

"And some beans, then?"

"Mm."

John hesitated for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed. Then, he nodded sharply, then walked away. Sherlock remained seated in his chair, staring at the TV until he was completely sure that John had left. He heard the door being pulled open, then the entire flat shuddered as it was slammed shut. Sherlock picked up his laptop, opening it to his website.

Found. The Bruce-Partington plans. Please collect.

He paused, smiling before adding on:

The Pool. Midnight.

Sherlock pressed enter, then shut his laptop, staring off into the distance. He hadn't realised exactly how quiet the flat got when he was alone, not until Amelia had come into his life. Nor had he realised how much he'd grown to enjoy Amelia's company.

You're getting weak, Sherlock. Sherlock could practically hear Mycroft's condescending voice sing. You're letting sentiment get the better of you.