Author's Note:

Some of the places and people are real(names changed for fictional reasons). Home District is a London military base that protects the essential part of Britain's military and other armed forced. The military units are real except for John's unit. I combined modern time unit names along with the make-believe regiment from the Sir Arthur Canon Doyle stories and books.

Eyes narrowed to the outside of the window as he watched pedestrian upon pedestrian passed through Baker Street. His mind was slowly reiterating; rotting bit by bit. It was agonizingly annoying and tedious. Normal deduction began to come slower or almost not at all. His Brain was almost at a point of shutting itself down. Sherlock had tried everything from cases' to that damn bloody Rubik's Cube, which he ended up throwing it at Mycroft one day from its simplicity.

"Get me into Home District." Sherlock retorted at Mycroft without glancing away from the small unit standing across the street. Red uniforms and black caps. Yes, Home District! Perfect! Screamed his deprived brain as it thirsts for stimulation.

"Pardon?" Came Mycroft's answer. Sherlock tightened his jaw in annoyance as his fist balled tightly around his other hand.

"You heard me Mycroft." He snapped remaining motionless like a statue. Sherlock narrowed his focused back onto the reflection on the glass. Mycroft was staring at him but face was completely composed. No one outside the military nor government stepped foot into London District. It coordinated military and government operations for the United Kingdom. It even had ties with the Crown.

Sherlock smirked at the glass as it twisted into a sneer. "Did you not hear me! Get me into that damn base!" He snapped around, eyes wild and dilated. Mycroft almost jumped by the suddenness of his young brother's outburst. What the hell? was all Mycroft could think.

"Yes I did, but that is not in my audition to allow." Mycroft firmly applied, unknowingly fueling Sherlock's annoyance, bring him closer to breaking. He glared at his older brother with darkening, storm grey dagger of eyes when he suddenly leaped forward. Mycroft tried to dodge the quickly calculated attack but failed miserably. Sherlock had him in a blink of a eye, slamming him into the wall face first. Sherlock's hand bite angrily into Mycroft's wrists as he positioned them behind his back. Mycroft hissed in pain. He hasn't seen his brother deranged to near madness since he was thrown into withdraws from his cocaine addictions.

Sherlock leaned forward coming inches from his brother's ear, "Damn jurisdiction Mycroft. Jurisdiction can go to hell in London. Damn. District." He hissed murderously, digging into the British Government's wrist with every word. Mycroft winced, clinging his jaw.

'What the hell is wrong with Sherlock!' Sherlock waited for an answer impatiently but one did not come. He used his body weight to crush Mycroft into the wall while pulling his arms down. A gasp of pain escaped from Mycroft's lips, earning a cold smirk on Sherlock's lips. That cupid's bow of lips twisted at the corners and his pale eyes turned into dark, wild storming orbs, appearing predatory.

Finally, Mycroft had enough of Sherlock's bullying and used his head to knock him off of him. Sherlock staggered but of course, he recovered quickly. The brother's launched at each other as they seemed to circled each other like warring wolves. Sherlock delivered a blow into Mycroft's jaw and another into his side. Mycroft retaliated with as knee into Sherlock's stomach. It did nothing but angered Sherlock like a raging bull. He pounced at Mycroft when he was about to send another blow. He tackled Mycroft without realizing that he pinned him with his legs and placed a hand over his mouth, while the other held his throat threateningly. Cold, pale eyes locked with wide, shocked blue ones. Sherlock towered over his older brother, "Boredom can burn this city down if not satisfied or-." Sherlock paused a wicked smirk creeping onto his face as he remembered a certain sergeant's comment from a few weeks ago, "It could all end in blood shed. Maybe both if you like." Mycroft's eyes widened more. Fear. He feared that it would end this way. He grown bored and cracking. Oh God! Why hadn't he seen this coming. How could he be such a fool. His attention was drawn back to a dark drawl of Sherlock laughing, " So which is it? For the sake of some entertainment." Mycroft paled, finding himself nodding. Sherlock heard a muffled version of the word London drift past his fingers. Mycroft had surrendered to his whims. Sherlock smirked down at his brother, removing his hand from his neck to pat him on the head. Sherlock made to stand, walking to fetch Mycroft's mobile phone. Mycroft sat up on the floor as his blackberry was shoved into his hands. Sherlock watched him as Mycroft glared darkly up at him, dialing a number, requesting an order for Sherlock into London District for so-called research on a case, which was made-up by quick calculated thinking.

"Oh, brother dear," Sherlock cooed dryly, received a piercing glare, " was it that hard?"

"Piss the fuck off Sherlock Holmes."

"Ah don't be like that. Oh, and don't forget. I WILL be calling upon you again. So-" A pause, "your arse is mine." Mycroft sneered and Sherlock smirked, waving him in dismissal. Mycroft mumbled under his breath before snatching up with umbrella and left.

After an hour, Sherlock laid in the sofa with a dented Rubik's cube while staring- well, glaring rather- at his skull on the mantelpiece. London District. Why did he chose London District? Sherlock only knew he blurted it out without thinking yet his brain accepted it. Military and Government Connections. He has Mycroft for that. But. London reaches just beyond local. This made Sherlock smile as an idea crept into his mind. London was his.

Sherlock was escorted to an area that suited his supposed assignment in an international investigation-which was completely fictional. It helped that Mycroft was pulling the strings, allowing Sherlock to break into Home District. The major-general led the way into a chemistry lab where they met two soldiers. One was Captain John Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Special Operations and the other was Major James Moriarty of the Royal Corps of Signal.

The Captain had blond hair and appeared around thirty. He had the Union Jack on the right shoulder and under that was the sigil of medical service. He was an army doctor. Sherlock then glanced over at Major James Moriarty and saw nothing of extraordinary propertions. He had black hair and black eyes, and held himself in a military stance. Sherlock also noticed that he seemed to stand just a few inches from John Watson-.

The consulting detective caught a quick glance from Moriarty over at Watson's back, however, it only lasted only a second. It gave Sherlock enough time to catch the meaning behind it. It was all sentimental; emotions where for the losing side. Sherlock had a small smile that was barely visible; just a small turn up at the corner of his mouth. It allowed Sherlock to work with the strings that where set around Moriarty and Watson. He was going to have some fun with it. Even as he looked at the Captain, Moriarty had gone unnoticed by his commanding officer.

After the introduction of the Captain and Major, Watson stepped forward, extending his hand, " It'll be a pleasure working with you Mr. Holmes. They had assigned us to the over site and development of your investigation." Sherlock shook the hand firmly. His eyes never left John's as he sized the captain up more.

"Just as a warning Captain, it would be horribly difficult to work with me." John glanced at James then back at Sherlock with a raised eyebrow and a look in his eyes. It almost seemed as if he was amused.

" I've worked with several people of whom were difficult." A smirk played on his lips, just a twist of his mouth upwards. "So consider this challenge accepted, Mr. Holmes." Sherlock stared at John as the Captain turned to the major and gave some orders that needed to finished before anything could begin. Watson didn't seem very or rather overly military but his body language told him that Watson was very serious about his job.

"Sherlock please."

"Pardon?" John said, turning to him as Moriarty left to make care of his orders. Sherlock glanced at John, 'this is going to be fun', he thought. Sherlock turned to walk away before turning slightly to return here at 0800. Then he greeted them goodbye and left to work on more plans and- require new additions.

Sherlock hung in the shadows of a residential building, watching Donovan and Anderson. His target tonight; Sargent Sally Donovan of New Scotland Yard. His eyes narrowed impatiently as Anderson gave a quick goodbye kiss. Sally smiled at him then started to walk down the sidewalk. Sherlock sank deeper into the shadows, stalking after the Sargent. She crossed the street and that was when Sherlock pounced. He grabbed her from behind, snatching her into the darkness of a nearby alleyway. Sally gave Sherlock a good fight but he quickly pinned her arms and head, making her immobile. He pinned her against the brick wall to farther trap her, "Enough!" he quietly sneered, making Sally freeze when she heard the sociopath's voice. Her breathing became heavy and gradually started to become shaky. "All I want is to talk. I need you and Anderson for an important job." Sherlock snarled into her ear. " I'm going to let you go and you better not do anything against me. I would know long before you could even think it." He warned, voice cold and dangerous. Sherlock had already calculated the many choices that were available to Sally. She had no taser nor her gun. She must have left it at her flat, or Anderson's.

"Okay fine." Sally answered bitterly, a bit of anger etched in her tone. She muttered something under her breath, causing Sherlock to tighten his grip on his wrists. She grunted in pain, "okay, please Sherlock." Sherlock sneered, baring his teeth as Donovan pleaded. His eyes were dark in the shadows but he wretched his hands away, dodging as Sally aimed a punch at him. He grabbed his in swift attack. Her hands were pinned over her head beneath his own. His face came inches from hers, glaring evilly. She stared at Sherlock, suddenly afraid of the man. She kept thinking of how he would eventually get bored and the next crime scene would have been committed by him. Donovan thought that she was going to be his first victim.

"You, Sally Donovan." His rich voice drawn into a murderous threat, "You and Anderson now work for me. You have no choice and nor does anyone else I pull into my web. My brother has your boss Lestrade under his spell now as we speak, meaning there is no where you can hide from me or my brother." He smirked as he watched Sally take of it in. He moved a little bit closer to her face with malice. Sally turned her face away, "You are trapped Donovan. Don't worry. It clear that you are not the only one." She glanced at him suddenly, an eyebrow raised as if to ask, 'Who?' Sherlock clinged his jaw, annoyed by the silent question. Nosy much? But he mused himself with the thought of a certain Captain and Major being caught in his grasp. "As you would know, the others' under my control are not for you to know. Your job is to lure Anderson under your spell. I'll take it from there. But of course, you two are already intimiate. Just get him to take the bait and bring him to me. Say, at noon tomorrow. Scotland Yard." He ordered and Sally nodded her head reluctantly. He made to leave, only to turn to her frozen state, "Oh, one more thing Sargent Donovan. If you think to reveal any of my plans, you wouldn't see the daylight again. You're freedom would be snatched out from under you. Remember Big Brother is watching." Sherlock smirked, giving a sarcastic wink. Donovan winced as he left, vanishing deeper into the shadows.

Sherlock was talking to the Major-General when John and James walked in. "Ah, you two are coming with me. There is an important meeting over the case. I thought to bring you since you'll be helping me." Sherlock stated before the Major-General could say anything. He glared at Sherlock, snapping a silent retort, 'This is my base you arse.' But Sherlock had orders from a higher level than the general. John and Moriarty glanced at each other, but both nodded respectively. "Good." Sherlock simply replied, smug. He had them now. Soon, he's going to assess out his plan; starting with John Watson.