Sherlock chose the left bottle, the bottle the cabbie did not offer him.
"So that's the pill without the poison?" questioned the cabbie.
"Well of course it is. You offered me the pill with the poison. Why would you give me the one without?" Sherlock stated matter of factly.
"Are you sure? Maybe I wanted you to think that," the cabbie egged on, "Maybe I knew you would say those exact words and that's why I pushed the right bottle towards you. One last chance to change your mind!"
Sherlock studied him. He looked sad and scared. Sherlock could read right through him. The corners of his mouth were slightly turned down, his brows were slightly raised, his left eye twitched one too many times. He liked playing these games. He didn't have a doubt in his mind that he chose the correct pill, he was a genius and he knew it. What he didn't understand was how the cabbie had won this game four times in a row. He must have been a genius, just like Sherlock. The cabbie did seem fairly calm and that worried Sherlock. He was a psychopath, not caring if he dies.
"It's time to take our medicine, Mr. Holmes," the cabbie stated.
Sherlock knew then that he chose the correct bottle. The cabbie was too eager.
"Bottoms up!" said Sherlock as he tilted the bottle upwards.
He watched as the cabbie did the same and then he felt the pill slide down his throat.
BANG!
A gunshot was fired and the glass behind Sherlock shattered. The cabbie was shot right through the head killing him instantly. Sherlock immediately started to panic. What if he chose wrong? How will he know when the cabbie is already dead? Will he have to just wait and see if he dies too? The next five minutes would surely be the longest minutes of his life.
Had he made the biggest mistake of his life? Sherlock began to regret everything. Why had he treated life like a game? Life is precious, and he was starting to think he took it for granted.
"Maybe I'm not invincible after all. Maybe I should treat life more seriously from now on, that is, if I live. I won't have time to say goodbye to my friends and family. Mrs. Hudson, John, my brother! I really should treat them all as equals instead of acting like I am smarter than them. Ok let's be serious, I am smarter than them."
Sherlock began to panic. Panicking was unlike Sherlock. He had to remain calm and believe in himself. Of course he chose the right pill. He just knew it. Why was he ever doubting himself?
"Alright there, Sherlock?" Watson asked worriedly.
"Yes, John, I am completely fine. Why ask such a silly question? Don't I look fine to you? You need to work on your skills of observation, clearly," Sherlock fired back.
Watson knew instantly that Sherlock was not alright. He had been working on his observation skills and almost knew Sherlock like the back of his hand. But only almost. Sherlock looked panicked, like someone had just told him a secret but didn't tell him the whole secret. He needed to know more, but what could he be wondering about? Why had Sherlock gotten in the car with the cabbie in the first place after all? And what in the world was he "drinking" right before Watson fired his gun?
"What did you do this time, Sherlock?" Watson knew something was wrong.
Sherlock got nervous, "I may or may not have taken the pill the cabbie offered me…"
"YOU DID WHAT!?"
"Well you see, he challenged me to a game, one pill was good and one was bad and he let me decide so I—"
"WHAT IF BOTH OF THE PILLS WERE BAD? Sherlock you could die any second!" Watson was furious. How could he be this stupid? "Try to make yourself throw it up right now!"
"Now now John, of course I chose the good pill. I am a genius after all you know!"
"You are an idiot that's what you are!" Watson exclaimed.
Sherlock gave Watson a calming stare, "It's not nice to call people names, John. Clearly all we have to do is just wait and see what happens to me. If I die, tell Mrs. Hudson that I am forever grateful for her company and for allowing me to live with her even though she hated me at times. John, you can have anything you want of mine. I should write a farewell letter to the world that could be read at my funeral. That would be funny I think. If I live, well, I guess we can just keep on living our normal lives and celebrate the fact that I knew which pill was good."
Sherlock knew that he would die in a unique way. He had come close to dying on multiple occasions. If this was it for him, he wouldn't mind. But deep down, Sherlock did not want to die. No one really ever wants to.
"Does it feel like you have been poisoned?" Watson asked.
"Not one bit. How long has it been since you shot the cabbie?"
"About 5 minutes."
It seemed as if Sherlock was going to live after all. He was ready to take on even more challenging games if he had too (ok if he wanted too). He looked over at Watson and gave him a sly smile.
"I think it is time to celebrate, John. Drinks are on me this time and we shall toast to life and to me winning yet again. I need a real challenge next time," Sherlock was now elated and cocky. He liked treating life like a game. He had gotten lucky this far in his life, why not continue to have some fun?
Watson followed him out, rolling his eyes.