A/N: This is my first published fanfic, so constructive criticism is welcome. It is also a oneshot. This is because I haven't yet finished reading the Artemis Fowl series and don't trust myself with trying to get all the details correct. I promise I'll get more up when I finally get around to finishing the series – eventually. Please review and all that jazz :)
Disclaimer: I do not own either the Sherlock or Artemis Fowl series, but boy do I wish I do.
Proper Geniuses
"So you're a proper genius, too." The tall, dark-haired man said this in an amused tone. It was a statement rather than a question.
The other person's expression could not be seen for a shadow fell across his face, but the teen's voice sound more than a little smug when he spoke, "people don't think so, do they? Not about the cabby – we're just the back of a head." The Irish accent hung heavy in the air and Sherlock couldn't help but silently praise the boy's observation. No one ever pays the taxi driver any mind.
Sherlock smirked before he turned his back on the window he'd been staring out of so that he could get a better look at the individual who had taken him there, to that isolated building, for slaughter. He chuckled drily but otherwise did or said nothing in response.
He took two large, slow strides to the long wooden table that was positioned in the centre of the room. Sinking into the chair opposite him he first noticed the pale, icy blue of the eyes that gave him that cold and unfaltering gaze.
He wouldn't dare admit it out loud, but that look unsettled him.
The boy's mouth quirked into a small smile and he said smoothly, "I don't know why more of us don't branch out."
At this, Sherlock almost rolled his eyes but instead they settled on the bottled pills that sat before him and he sighed quietly.
Where was John?