A/N: Written for Midorima Kazunari's basketball challenge at Ange and Neo's Hostile takeover.
"Why are we even here? This is ridiculous."
John Watson sighed. This is ridiculous had become Sherlock's mantra since we landed in Miami three days earlier.
"Like I've told you numerous times in the last three days, Mrs. Hudson asked us for a favour."
"That case was simple, barely a three, however, I do know I promised Mrs. Hudson. What I meant was, why we are here, at this, this place?!" Sherlock gestured to the building around them.
"Mrs. Hudson's nephew is a very rich man, and has offered to bring us to a basketball game." John explained for what seemed like the millionth time that day.
"Basketball? That's what this is? I thought this was a very odd play about sweaty gargantuan men." John watched as Sherlock's face twisted into an appalled expression. "Do people actually spend money to watch this? Also, why are we so close? I can actually smell their sweat, it's absolutely appalling."
"We're sitting so close because Mr. Hudson owns season tickets, and because he is very wealthy, he has some of the best seats in the house." John chose to ignore comment about the sweat. Secretly he agreed with Sherlock on that one, the smell was terrible.
"That's ridiculous, why would anyone pay good money to sit on the side of a… thing… to increase the chance of being hit in the face with that orange ball they keep passing around." Sherlock's voice was starting to rise, and John looked around to his seat mates to give an apologetic look.
"It's called a basketball court you idiot, now shut up and at least pretend you're having a good time." With that, John stubbornly turned in his seat to watch the game.
"Do you think they have the word 'heat' on their shirts because they all seem so warm?" Sherlock ignored John's attempt at shutting him up.
"It's the name of the team, Sherlock. Please, I'm begging you, just watch the game." John stared Sherlock down with pleading eyes, until Sherlock finally nodded in agreement, and turned himself straight in his seat, eyes on the court.
It was about ten minutes by John's count, that Sherlock was on his feet yelling at the referee.
"Have you always been a moron? Or is today a special case of it?!" John tried desperately to yank him back down to sitting position to no avail. "That was clearly a foul! How could you possibly miss that?"
"Sherlock. Sit. Down. Now." John got out through gritted teeth and one final yank on Sherlock's Belstaff.
"John, the referee clearly has reasons to let that go. Perhaps he has money on the other team to win. Actually the more I think about it, the more that seems likely. The way he keeps sniffling would imply that he is addicted to some kind of narcotic, most likely cocaine. Obviously he would need the money to keep that addiction afloat. Oh it's so obvious now! He's doing this on purpose!" Sherlock's voice started to gain volume again as he continued his deduction.
"Sherlock…" John warned but it was too late, Sherlock was already standing up and striding across the players whizzing by him to stand in front of the referee in question.
John began gathering their belongings.
"Excuse me; can you explain to these extremely tall men, why you have rigged their game so that you can fulfill your cocaine addiction?" Sherlock was nose to nose with the slightly smaller man now.
There was a small moment of silence while everyone in the arena caught up with Sherlock's accusation. John noticed during that time the very large men in suits and earpieces approaching.
"Sherlock, come on now, leave him be."
"John, this man clearly is plotting against the team, more specifically that Wade man over there. He blatantly looked the other way when the other team knocked him over."
The referee didn't have a chance to respond, as the two security guards lifted Sherlock by each arm, and carried him off the court and out the door; John hurrying behind them.
They very unceremoniously dropped him on his behind outside the parking lot, and requested 'that he never show his stupid cheekbones and collar in their arena again.'
"Well, I very much doubt that this is YOUR arena." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "And cheekbones cannot be stupid, it's scientifically impossible."
"Sherlock, we're going back to the hotel, you've shown more than enough of your brilliance for the day."
"John?"
"Yes, Sherlock?"
"I like this sport, basketball. Do you think we can watch one of those other sports the Americans are constantly on about? Football, or Baseball?"
"Sure Sherlock, only if you promise to be very quiet, and not get us kicked out."
"I'm merely pointing out facts John, facts that really should be obvious to everyone in the room."
"Sherlock?"
"Yes, John?"
"Shut up."
"Yes, John."
A/N: Writing Sherlock properly is hard. I hope I did okay! First venture outside of the HP fandom, so it's a bit nerve wracking! Please, with a cherry on top, take the time to review this if you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading:)