The Most Dangerous Game | Sherlock Holmes

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"It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts."

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

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SHERLOCK HOLMES AND DR. JOHN WATSON were very accustomed to being in unsettling circumstances.

They had taken on a Chinese smuggling ring, been drugged to the point of delirium, assisted the royal princess against a naked dominatrix.

There was also the span of two years when Watson believed Holmes to be dead- the former was still a tad bit cross at that.

And, they could never forget Sherlock's self-induced downward drug spiral which eventually led to the capture of one of the most prolific serial killers in London.

There were a lot of unsettling- traumatic- circumstances that were somewhat dealt with.

So, standing outside a secure government building- flanked by two sturdy guards- and brought there with absolutely no explanation, was definitely something they would add to their list of unsettling circumstances.

"Sherlock," John whispered, trying to increase the minimal space between him and the blonde guard who reeked of aftershave. "Do you have any idea what we're doing here?"

"Hm," Sherlock muttered, not paying any mind to the man holding his elbow as he examined their surroundings. It only took him a few seconds to make his deductions. "Mycroft."

"Wha-"

"Honestly, John, the fact that you've managed to survive this long-"

"Sherlock..."

"Alright, fine," he said, noting all the different buttons in the elevator they were just led to, seeing the highest floor ring red. "The men who came to get us are secret service- that was obvious- and based on their unflinching silence, we can tell that they are highly trained and experienced. During the ride here, I noted that we were heading out of the city, the drive taking approximately two hours and through restricted sections of the countryside. When one of the men took my phone, I observed that their prints had been erased based on the smudges left when they returned it. On the outside, this building is decrepit- looking rather abandoned- but on the inside, it is pristine with high ceilings and all a ghastly bright white. Also, there is one thing you seemed to miss."

"And that is?"

The edges of Sherlock's lips quirked up, the corners of his eyes wrinkling with mischief as he looked down at his companion. "My brother is a right arsehole."

It hadn't escaped Sherlock or John that the two men were still in the elevator with them when both let out an offended cough.

Sherlock wrinkled his forehead as he turned around and John tried to suppress his laughter when his friend spoke. "Can I help you?"

Both men grunted in unison, something that bothered John but intrigued Sherlock as the elevator finally reached its destination.

The doors opened and both men extended their arms out for the two to exit, and when they did, the men did not follow.

John Watson gasped as he took in the grand hall, in the simplest words, it was immaculate.

The white walls that had decorated the ground-level continued on. The space was big enough for two floors but was only one. There were several skylights that brought in the sun and helped with the lack of windows. Surprisingly, there were several large oak trees that looked so out of place in the sterile environment.