This is for Dunstable on tumblr for the 'johnlockchallenge' gift exchange.

Twenty-three chessboards set out each on their individual tables, two chairs at either side, and a clock beside each board. Every single one of them laid out with such faultless precision, but if you looked closer you could see the cracks within the perfect façade... some of the pieces were chipped or broken, some of the boards were scored across the tiles; every single one of them had a flaw or an inconsistency... and Sherlock Holmes could recount perfectly every single flaw with each one of them, for he handled them every week- setting them out with a more tender expertise than he attended to in practically everything else in his life. He could hardly expect anything better from the high school chess club- it's not as though anyone had any respect for school property. Sherlock had chosen his seat at one of the tables and was observing the rest of the students as they filled in through the door, coming from their last class. He could see that Richard Anderson had had art in the last period because of the way that his shirt cuffs were pulled up to his elbows, but he had still managed to get dark blue paint on the edges of the shirt; and he saw that Seamus and Dean had come from the gym so they must have had a free period last. He could give an explanation for every student purely by glancing at them as they entered the room; and this might probably be half the reason why nobody was sitting across the table from him. Sherlock's parents had sent him to this school because they hoped that he might begin to settle and adjust with other people his own age- but at fifteen Sherlock had too many things going against him for him to even have a chance... Sherlock wasn't bothered about 'friends', he didn't see the point- all he truly wanted was someone to engage in his games. The ability to read people's personalities and activities in seconds, coupled with the high natural intelligence that Sherlock was equipped with meant that no one talked to him; they were either too freaked out by him, or too pissed off that he had already sat four A levels whilst they were still preparing for their GCSEs.

So Sherlock sat at the small table, alone, while the others filled up around him- friends sitting with friends, but no one willing to venture near the freak. Not until Miss Vector marched in anyway; she was one of the physics teachers and had been responsible for setting up and running the chess club like a mini tournament every week. But today she had not arrived alone, behind her- following only a pace or so behind- was a tall, thin boy with shoulder length straggled black hair that Sherlock had never seen before. He must be a new start, Sherlock contemplated with slight interest, he was certain that he had never seen the boy before- and Sherlock was sure that he would remember if he had.

"Good afternoon everyone," Miss Vector greeted them with her stern form of cheeriness that was her usual manner. "You all know the score. Speed games, five minutes for each one and then you move on to a new opponent. If your game isn't finished at the end of the time then you concede either a draw, or decide who is at a further place in the game before you move on." Sherlock hadn't been paying any attention to what Miss Vector had been saying, he had been coming to the chess club since its beginnings and he knew the format to which they worked. He had been too busy staring at the boy who had accompanied her, but to his surprise he was unable to draw any major conclusions apart from the fact that he was new and possibly aged around fifteen or sixteen- even that was rather difficult to place.

Those who hadn't already been at a table with someone slotted themselves into seats across from someone, generally chatting and putting forth their usual aimless conversation. The seat across from Sherlock was still empty- perhaps it was his reputation that prevented anyone purposely choosing him as their first opponent. He had won the last twenty-seven of their mini tournaments, and the twenty-eighth he had not been present. Miss Vector had been speaking lowly to the new boy, then she led him across the room and stopped before the empty seat at the other side of Sherlock's table.

"I've got a partner for you Holmes," she addressed Sherlock, gesturing for the thin boy to take a seat at the table which he accepted with a kind of sullen demeanour. "Don't be too harsh, it's his first day at the school and you should remember what that's like." She left the table and Sherlock was instantly aware of two black piercing eyes staring across at him from the boy. He was not a startlingly extraordinary looking boy, his skin was slightly sallow and his nose rather larger than that of his other features, but his eyes shone intensely- Sherlock recognised the intelligence that was present in the gaze, but he also percepted the tinge of loneliness or self-inclusion that he knew his own eyes gave the impression of.

"You've played before?" Sherlock asked curtly not introducing himself to the boy, but reaching out to press the start of his clock.

"At my old school." He responded, his voice was lower and more drawling than Sherlock had expected.

"Good, I hate playing with novices." Sherlock slammed his hand upon the clock and moving his first piece.

"Everyone has to learn some time." The boy moved one of his pawns with long fingers and hit the clock in a response; Sherlock observed the fingers as he knew the fingers of a person could give away an unlimited amount.

"You'd never pair the novice with the master." Sherlock protested, counteracting one of his own pieces with the boy's move and hitting the clock.

"Yet the master once undertook that of the previous." Came his answer, moving another piece.

"You are a pianist." Sherlock stated at his turn to move; the boy didn't even react to the statement that Sherlock had made.

"Yes, and you a violinist." Now that was something Sherlock had not expected- the boy seemed just as observant as Sherlock credited himself with. "No doubt you could tell from my fingers."

"Of course... in the same way that I can tell that you are a chemist." Sherlock quipped; moving one step further to what he appeared would be his end game.

"A man of science can always distinguish when a fellow brother is present." The response sounded as though it had been taken straight out of the pages of a badly written textbook, but to Sherlock's astonishment the boy blocked the path of his intended next movement.

"So you're new." Sherlock spoke in a slightly resentful manner.

"Yes." The boy didn't look up at Sherlock; his eyes were focussed upon the chess board.

"What year?"

"11." The two were carrying out the stunted clipped conversation as their turn changed in the game. "You?"

"The same." This solidified the boy's age at about fifteen. "What subjects are you studying?"

"This year, English language, Mathematics, Physics and Biology." The boy replied.

"That's not enough for GCSE." Sherlock said bluntly.

"No, they're A levels. I've already done A levels in chemistry, music, English literature and art." This was a turn up for the books, the boy was on par with Sherlock academically- but still Sherlock scoffed slightly.

"A level art? Isn't that just splashing colours at a page?" It was meant to be demeaning, but the boy responded differently.

"Not an artist then? Sometimes the splashings of colour on a page show the most interesting facets of a person."

The next few moves passed in a strained silence, Sherlock did not like being put down or ridiculed and he glared in annoyance at the boy.

"I would have thought you would have attended to the sciences first if they are your main interest." He sniped eventually.

"Is that what you have done?"

"Yes. I did biology, chemistry, physics and mathematics A level two years ago."

"And what are you doing now?"

"Music, English language, English literature, Latin and history."

"I thought Latin was a dead language, what use is there in learning it." Sherlock clenched his jaw as he made his move; the more this boy spoke the less he liked him, and he was almost relieved when the voice of Miss Vector called over the chatter in the room to proclaim: "time! Move on to the next person."

Neither Sherlock nor the new boy had won, they were locked in a battle and had each taken a number of the others pieces. They would have to concede as a draw- and Sherlock hated that. The boy stood up from the chair, giving a rather towering impression.

"Good game... Holmes, was it?" The boy outstretched his hand to shake Sherlock's in sporting fashion.

"Yes," Sherlock considered this offer and reluctantly gave the boy's hand a short shake. "And your name?"

"Snape." He responded, before moving on to the next table and a new opponent.

Sherlock's next opponent was a cocky, but not unintelligent year 10 girl called Sally Donovan and Sherlock knew that it was her greatest desire to beat him in a game- yet she had never succeeded in this aim so far. Even throughout this game, with his mind rather distracted by the conversation that had gone between himself and the boy Snape, it was still easy to predict the move of every single one of her pieces so that within two and a half minutes Sherlock had declared checkmate and was having to deal with the girl sighing huffily in a put off manner from across the table. He spent the remainder of the time observing from this distance the game that was occurring between Snape and one of the older boys in the club, Gregory. Gregory was never the most interesting of opponents- and Snape was showing this, by steam rolling him and calling checkmate in under three minutes. He was good... Sherlock thought, nearly as good as he was himself. This new boy was more than just a little interesting...

Each five minutes were called in succession and Sherlock hardly even had to look at his opponents to recognise their opening strategy from their first move and generally beat them in under eleven moves- thirteen at a stretch. The boy, Snape, was equally good though- Sherlock frowned as he observed him beat his opponent using his own favourite tactic. Eight games had gone by now, and Sherlock knew that there was normally no more than nine games played in one session, as most people's concentration began to wane in the game. He wanted to play Snape again; such an interesting mind presented perplexities to him- and they could either be a benevolent force, or the biggest threat that Sherlock could ever face. When Miss Vector called time on that game, a good three minutes after Sherlock's current opponent (a dark haired older girl called Katie) had admitted defeat against him, he stood up without a word and proceeded across to the table where the boy Snape had been playing against a year 10 girl, Ginny, whose temper and ferocity during the games matched the colour of her vivid red hair. He cleared his throat rather pointedly;

"Weasley." He addressed the girl, "Bell needs an opponent if you're willing to take my place." Ginny cocked her head to one side with one of her eyebrows raised in a little confusion at this blunt statement, but she moved without arguing and Sherlock took her place across from Snape once more.

"Back to play again?" Snape asked, a rather obvious sneer in his voice as Sherlock took the seat across from him.

"Neither of us won our last game." Sherlock stated, "I hate leaving a game unfinished."

"It's unwise to return to familiar territory without a revelation of change." Snape started the clock, white moved first.

"But I have had a revelation- I've been watching you play." Sherlock stated.

"And?" He posed it as a question, but his eyes were fixed on Sherlock's hands. The game was of more interest than the conversation.

"You're good." Sherlock answered after a moment, if anyone else had been listening at that point they would have probably thought they were going mad- Sherlock never admitted that someone might be equal to him in capabilities. "Almost too good."

"Do you mean by that that I'm a threat?" He sounded amused now.

"No, not a threat..." Sherlock answered. "Not yet anyway..." He added under his breath, taking a third piece from the board.

"You're clever." Snape started.

"I know." Sherlock broke across him.

"But you should never let your intelligence get in the way of a new opponent; you don't know what they will bring to the table and how they will perceive the game in front of them." Snape finished, turning the start of his sentence not into a compliment - but a warning.

"There's two of us at this table, and both of us are new to each other- technically you could have refused to play me again." Sherlock spoke more snappily than he had first intended to.

"I'm not the one who sought out a second game." Snape was staring at the board in the same way that Sherlock was; both of them had brought themselves to a jam in which no matter who made the move they would open themselves up to being checkmated. So they metaphorically circled - both hands hovering over their own kings and glaring at the other player.

Time was called, but neither Sherlock or Snape moved to clear up.

"And now it seems we are out of time, the only thing left is for us to end the game." Sherlock stated, "And it is your move." Some of the other members had paused to linger, noticing that the two boys were not moving and seemed to still be engaged in their game. Miss Vector had approached the table now, evidently to tell them that it was time to pack up- but she had stopped when she saw how intensely they were both glaring at each other.

"Neither of us can win and I am not willing to fold the game." Snape answered viciously, removing his hand from anywhere near the board.

"There is one thing we can do- we both forfeit and leave the game unfinished." Sherlock suggested, taking his hand away also; those who had gathered themselves around the table rustled in surprise at this suggestion from the boy they knew hated to be defeated.

"I don't do defeat."

"Neither do I." Sherlock replied curtly, "So we either chose to play or both forfeit- and in that manner, neither of us is defeating the other, just remaining undefeated." Snape seemed to consider this for a good few silent moments. It felt like an incredibly long time before he finally moved, pushing his chair back and standing up- Sherlock mirrored the movement.

"What's your name?" Snape asked, stretching his hand out for Sherlock to shake again, reminiscent of the way he had done at the end of his first game.

"Sherlock." Sherlock obliged to shake Snape's hand, a grin flitted across his face.

"It seems your parents chose just as ridiculous a name for you as mine did for me." He commented, still standing across from Sherlock.

"Yours being?"

"Severus." He replied, Sherlock smirked also. They were then broken in upon by Miss Vector;

"Boys, are you finished?" She asked, not in annoyance- but as though observing a spectacle that one only saw once during their lifetime.

"Yes." Severus answered, nodding. He began to gather up those pieces that both opponents had taken from the other, and packed them away in a box. Sherlock dithered in a small second of indecision before he made up his mind.

"Do you know where the library is yet?" Sherlock asked, Severus paused and shook his head. "If you are willing, I will show you where it is."

Those still present had gone silent again; this display of kindness seemed to be absolutely absurd in terms of Sherlock and they were shocked to see his sudden warmth to this new boy.

"That would be satisfactory." Severus agreed, it seemed that he was just as individually aware as Sherlock was himself.

As the two boys left, the rest of the members of the chess club remained in sheer amazement at this incident- of Sherlock Holmes making a friend...