BRILLIANT MINDS Chapter 1: Disclaimer & Summary, a Star Trek: 2009 + Sherlock Crossover fanfic

Disclaimer

I do not own "BBC Sherlock", Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss do. I do not own the movie "Star Trek" (2009), Gene Roddenberry (creator) and J.J. Abrams and Damon Lindelof (producers) do.

All characters belong to Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, Gene Roddenberry, J.J. Abrams and Damon Lindelof; except the few I have created for this Fan-Fiction. The plot-twists also belong to me.

No part of this Fan-Fiction publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without written permission from me.

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Summary

[SLASH] Before him stood a man quite unlike any other he has ever had the misfortune of meeting. Heterogeneous in nature, he painfully stood out amongst the daily drivel of gold-fish. He was dressed in a cotton, black waistcoat pocket business casual suit vest and dark grey dress slacks obviously worn but cared for. The only piece of jewelry he wore was a black touch-screen wrist watch on his left wrist. Mocha colored eyes took in the room, studiously yet quickly; before settling his eyes on aqua blue ones. Observing the man's profile, Sherlock listed off all of his attributes. Loose-spiked tendrils of raven hair fell almost carelessly away from his face. Mocha eyes held a striking silver gleam of knowledge between their irises, three-day stubble adorned his handsome jaw, beyond that his face was perfectly expressionless.

To outsider's it would appear both peculiar men where sizing each other up in terms of intellect, in reality though, a fascinating communication was being held within those few moments. It was a contest between them, who could 'read' each other first. Sherlock prides himself on being able to look 'through' anyone, picking up on the little things and visualizing their life story. In this instance, he found himself on the opposite end of intense observation. The man before him was brilliantly fascinating! He stared as if nothing else in the room mattered, as if nothing but Sherlock, held all of his answers. It was unnerving (Sherlock would adamantly deny ever feeling such a thing) yet he was intensely exhilarated by it. (If the tightening of his pants and accelerated heart rate was anything to go by).

'The Game is On…' he muses. 'Absolutely Brilliant!'