Hello, dearies. I've decided to continue this story (previously, it was a one-shot), so I'd like to thank all who reviewed, favorited, and followed. This is a rather short chapter (more is coming soon, though). Speaking of chapter lengths, about how long do you, my audience, prefer updates? Please review or PM me about it, please.
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize probably isn't mine.
Chapter 1:
Mycroft is being silly. I don't need a babysitter, and I definitely don't need to be under house arrest.
My eyes slid slowly open and to the left, finding The Man reading the newspaper. Not one of Mycroft's lackeys, and too plain to have caught his attention through political or legal means, which suggests that Mycroft searched for him. I narrowed my eyes at The Man through the paper. Apparently, I'm going to be trapped here for at least three weeks.
"John?" Mrs. Hudson. She likes The Man (John, I suppose; not an alias- he responded too quickly). She brought biscuits for him. They're assorted, which means that he didn't specify a type. Habitually polite. Why would Mycroft choose him? "What do you like in your tea?"
He rested the paper on his knees, smiling at Mrs. Hudson. "Milk, please. Thank you." Noticing I was watching him, his smile grew tense. "Hello, Sherlock."
"Hello, John." He looked shocked for a moment, then relaxed. How dull.
He cleared his throat, glancing toward where Mrs. Hudson was whistling in the kitchen. "I suppose you know all about what's happening?"
My eyebrow raised. "My brother is being mean because I didn't go to last Christmas at Mummy's house, so he's giving me a babysitter."
His brow furrowed. "What - ? Never mind. You don't know anything else?"
I huffed a short sigh. "Fine. While my brother is punishing me, I suppose it also has something to do with the political leader I angered. He thinks I need someone to keep me in the house, which would be true, of course, if you, or anyone, were capable of doing so."
John looked ready to argue. "You think I can't keep you here?"
I smiled at him, smug. "Oh, I know you can't."
He stares at me for a few moments, then looks away, thinking. "Do you like games?"
Is he trying to trick me? "Only fun ones."
"So let's play a game. If I keep you here for, say, a week, I win, and if you get out, you win." He smiles, satisfied with his plan.
I narrow my eyes at him. "What do I get if I win?"
A hitch in his master plan. His smile fades. "Well, what do you want?"
"Hmmm . . . How about . . . a favor?"
John looks wary. Good for him. "What sort of favor?"
In truth, I wasn't sure yet. He wouldn't allow anything against his agreement with Mycroft, but he might be useful in some sort of behavioral experiment.
"Nothing like you're thinking. And you, of course, get a favor from me if you win." That caught his attention. "We have a deal?"
"We have a deal."
