The Great Game, part 1.

Amelia was curled up on one of the chairs in Sherlock and John's living room, sitting in a chair that John usually occupied...or at least he did when he wasn't out on a date with Sarah, which he happened to be that night, leaving her to sit at home with Sherlock. Hmm, maybe going on a date with someone was starting to look a little more appealing.

"Bored," Sherlock let out a long suffering sigh from where he was lying with his face buried in the sofa's cushions, muffling his voice.

"I gathered from how you have been moaning about being bored for the past week," Amelia remarked, not bothering to look up from the book she was reading. Agatha Christie, she adored all of her books, and she had probably been one of the reasons why she had first wanted to become a detective, "If you're really so bored, Sherlock, then why don't you do something about it?"

"Such as?"

The brunette sighed, glancing up from her page and over to him to see that he had rolled on to his side and was looking at her, "What about reading a book?" she suggested.

He scoffed at her, "Like one of Agatha Christie's?"

"There's other book's in the world to read, Sherlock," she told him, only just managing to stop herself from glaring at him, "Take your pick," she gestured over towards the shelves on either side of the fireplace with books stacked not very neatly inside before going back to her own book.

"I've read all of those already".

"Fine, how about watching something on TV?"

"Boring!"

Amelia shut her book just a tad to sharply in her frustration, putting it down on the armrest before she marched over to the table were John's laptop was sitting, still turned on from earlier that day when Sherlock had been snooping around on it, and typed something in, "You need a case, Sherlock," she muttered, still appearing to be quite frustrated, "Something that will hopefully distract you and stop you from driving me to the point that I end up suffocating you in your sleep!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes at her, knowing that the chances that she could possibly suffocate him in his sleep, aside from her not having enough body strength to be able to make it conceivable, he knew that he would easily be able to hear her approaching him with the way she clomped around, even without heels.

"Okay, here we are," Amelia said after a moment, frowning slightly as she looked at the screen before shaking her head and unplugging the laptop, practically shoving the computer into Sherlock's hands as he rolled onto his back, ignoring the look he sent her before he turned his attention to the screen.

'Barry Berwick-I need ur help. Been arrested for murder in Belarus. People reckon u get people off. Family got money. They'll pay anything'.

"Absolutely shocking speller," Sherlock remarked, narrowing his eyes at the screen.

"Yes, well, some people do struggle when it comes to spelling," Amelia sent him a small frown as she settled back down in the chair she had perversely occupied, "But at least it's a case".

"Hmm, I've never been to Belarus," he commented, typing something, looking vaguely thoughtful.

"Neither have I, but I've heard that it's quite cold around this time of year".

"I'll have to contact the British Ambassador to get his details…"

Amelia raised her eyebrows, smiling slightly, "So that means…"

Sherlock stood suddenly from the sofa, his dressing gown billowing behind him as he marched out of the room, off towards his room, "Pack your bags!" he called back to her before she could finish, "We leave for Belarus tomorrow morning".

"Hey, I may have shown you the case, but that doesn't mean I want to go to!" she called back, frowning slightly. Sadly, she was ignored. Typical.

…..

"Just tell us what happened from the beginning," Sherlock told Barry Berwick, not appearing to be overly interested to hear what the man had to say in the first place from where he and Amelia were sitting across the table from Barry, steam from there breath rising in the cold air of the slightly damp room that they were sitting in, surrounded by empty seats and tables with only the light from the small windows to light the room.

It was three days after Amelia had first shown Sherlock the message that he had been sent to his website asking for his help, and after seeing if John would join them, they got the earliest plane that they could to Minsk, Belarus and left London.

"We'd been to a bar…" Barry began explaining to them as Amelia snuggled closer into her thick, black coat, struggling to keep herself warm, "A nice place…and, er, I got chatting with one of the waitress. And Karen weren't happy with that, so when we got back to the hotel, we end up having a bit of a ding-dong. Don't we?" Sherlock heaved a loud sigh, glancing at Amelia and back again to the man as he continued, "She's always getting at me, saying I weren't a real man…"

"Wasn't a real man," Sherlock corrected him.

"What?" he frowned at him, looking confused.

"What you said before," Amelia clarified for him, seeing his confusion, "It's not 'weren't,' it's 'wasn't'".

"Oh".

"Go on," Sherlock told him, quickly losing the little interest that he had in the first place.

"Well, then I dunno how it happened, but suddenly there's a knife in my hands. And, you know, me old man was a butcher, so I know how to handle knives…" Sherlock glanced down at the man's hands, taking note of them, "…he learned us how to cut up a beast…"

"'Taught,' Mr Berwick," Amelia corrected him, unable to stop herself from doing so.

"What?" Barry frowned, starting to get irritated by them both interrupting him and correcting what he was saying.

"Taught you how to cut up a beast," Sherlock told him, sounding bored.

"Yeah, well, then…then I done it…"

"'Did it,'" both Sherlock and Amelia corrected.

"Did it!" Barry suddenly snapped, slamming his hand down on the table over and over again, "Stabbed her. Over and over and over, and I looked down and she weren't…" Sherlock sighed, turning his head away in annoyance, "Wasn't moving no more…" he turned his head to the left, "Any more," the man corrected himself as Sherlock turned back to face him, "God help me, I don't know how it happened, but it was accident, I swear".

Sherlock pushed back his chair, causing the sound of the metal dragging across the concrete floor to echo loudly around them, slipping his hands inside his coat pockets as Amelia followed suit.

"You've gotta help me, Mr Holmes, Miss Wilson!" Barry called after them frantically, making them pause, "Everyone says you're the best. Without you two, I'll get hung for this".

"No, no, no, Mr Berwick," Sherlock replied pleasantly as he glanced back over his shoulder towards the man, a smirk slowly spreading across his face, "Hanged, yes".

And with that, he and Amelia turned and strolled out.

…..

The next day after Belarus found Sherlock just as insufferable as before the trip as he complained about being bored once more as he sat in the living room of Baker Street, dressed in his blue dressing gown as he sat in his chair by the fireplace, his head titled back as his arm dangled over the armrest, holding a gun.

Amelia stepped in the living room, stopping short as she caught sight of the gun, shaking her head, not really surprised as she walked across the room and settled down in John's chair, picking up her half-finished book and began reading, hoping that she may be able to actually finish it without any interruptions. She really should have known better.

Sherlock turned his head to look over to the wall behind the sofa, over to where he had spray-painted in yellow paint a big smiley face before looking away, raising his arm, aiming the gun at the face, shooting at it just as the sound of the front door opening and closing downstairs sounded.

"Sherlock!" Amelia shouted, dropping the book as she quickly covered her ears, wincing from the sound, "A bit of warning would be nice!"

The sound of footsteps could just be heard over the gunfire as John came running up the stairs and through the living room door, "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded loudly, uncovering his hands as Sherlock stopped shooting.

"Bored," he replied simply.

"Oh, believe me, we know," Amelia grumbled, uncovering her ears, looking annoyed.

"What?" John frowned at him, lowering his voice to normal level.

"Bored!" Sherlock jumped to his feet, Amelia and John quickly covered their ears again, knowing what was coming next.

"No…" John groaned.

Sherlock fired his gun at the wall, "Bored!" he shouted, swinging his arm around his back and twisted slightly as he fired again, "Bored! Bored!" he brought his gun back around to his front as John hurried forwards and grabbed the gun off him, quickly sliding the clip out of it as Sherlock walked over towards the sofa, "I don't know what's got into the criminal classes," he commented, sounding sulky, "Good job I'm not one of them".

"So you take it out on the wall," John shot him a look as he moved over to the table off to the side of the room, putting the pistol safely away in in the small safe, locking it away.

Sherlock ran his fingers across the smiley face, "Ah, the wall had it coming," he replied as he fell sideways onto the sofa with a dramatic flair.

"Of course it did," Amelia remarked, rolling her eyes as she picked her book up, sighing as she noticed that she had accidently crimpled the front cover from when she had dropped it to cover her ears, settling it on the armrest of her chair.

"What about the Russian case?" John asked as he slipped his jacket off.

"Belarus, open and shut domestic murder," Sherlock told him, not bothering to look over to him, "Not worth our time".

"Ah, shame," John said sarcastically, walking into the kitchen only to stop short as he caught sight of the mess of Sherlock's home lab equipment littering the surface of the kitchen table, only just managing not to say something as he moved passed the mess and towards the fridge, "Anything in?" he called back to the living room, "I'm starving…" he opens the fridge door, quickly closing it again, "Oh, f…" he leant against the fridge, breathing heavily before opening it again to make sure that he really had just seen what he thought he had staring back at him, "It's a head," he breathed, closing the door and turning back to the living room, calling, "A severed head!"

"Just tea for me, thanks," Sherlock replied calmly.

"No, there's a head in the fridge," John said as he stepped back into the room, looking slightly pale.

"What do you mean?" Amelia blinked, frowning as she looked between Sherlock and John, "Are you seriously telling me that there's a severed head in the fridge?"

"Yes," Sherlock said to them both as Amelia turned away, looking slightly sick before she composed herself, taking a deep breath as she tried not to think too deeply about it and made a mental note not to go anywhere near the fridge until she was sure it was clear of any severed heads. Murders she could handle, those were a part of her job, but when it was a severed head that wasn't a part of an investigation, that was just a step to far.

"A bloody head!" John exclaimed.

"Well, where else was I supposed to put it?" he glanced around at him, "You don't mind, do you?" he asked, not seeming to see what all the fuss was about as John glanced back over towards the fridge, shaking his head hopelessly, "I got it from Bart's morgue. I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death," he waved tiredly over towards John's laptop, "I see you've written up the taxi driver case".

"Uh, yes," he nodded, dropping down in Sherlock's chair as he cast one last glance towards the fridge.

"'A Study in Pink,'" Sherlock quoted the title, "Nice".

"Well, you know, pink lady, pink case, pink phone, there was a lot of pink," he glanced over at him and then at Amelia as Sherlock picked up a magazine from the coffee table while he's speaking, "Did you like it?"

"Um…no," Sherlock told him, opening the magazine.

"I thought It was very good, John," Amelia smiled at him, shooting Sherlock a small glare, "Very nicely written".

"Ah, thanks," John smiled at her before frowning over at Sherlock, "Why not?" he asked him, "I thought you'd be…flattered…"

"Flattered?" Sherlock lowered the magazine and glared at him, "'Sherlock sees through everything and everyone in seconds. What's incredible, though, is how spectacularly ignorant he is about some things…'"

"Sherlock," Amelia sighed, running a hand down her face, knowing that John was quite proud of his blog.

"Now, hang on a minute, I didn't mean that…"

"Oh, you meant 'spectacularly ignorant' in a nice way," Sherlock interrupted him, rolling his eyes, "Look, it doesn't matter to me who's Prime Minister…"

"I know…" John muttered, looking away as Amelia coughed, covering up her laugh.

"Or who's sleeping with who…"

"Whether or not the Earth goes around the sun," Amelia coughed loudly, giving him a pointed look.

"Not that again," Sherlock sighed, pressing his hands to his eyes, "It's not important".

"Not impor…" John straightened in his chair and turned himself so that he was facing Sherlock, "It's primary school stuff. How can you not know that?" he shook his head at him.

"Well, if I ever did, I've deleted it," he replied, still pressing his hands to his eyes.

"'Deleted it?'"

"Listen," Sherlock sat up from the sofa, turning around to face them as he pointed to his head, "This is my hard drive, and it only makes sense to put things in there that are useful…really useful," he shook his head, grimacing slightly, "Ordinary people fill their heads with all kinds of rubbish. That makes it hard to get at the stuff that matters. Do you see?" he looked at them.

John bit his bottom lip, glancing over at Amelia, struggling to contain himself before he gave in, "But it's the solar system!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, hell!" he groaned loudly, burying his head in his hands, looking as if he was only just stopping himself from pulling out his hair, "What does it matter?" he demanded, looking back up, clearly very frustrated, "So we go around the sun! If we went round the Moon, or round and round the garden like a teddy bear, it wouldn't make any difference," Amelia raised her eyebrows, wondering why he would remember a children's nursery rhyme of all things rather than an actual, general fact, "All that matters to me is the work. Without that, my brain rots," he ruffed his hair before glaring up at John, "Put that in your blog. Or better still, stop inflicting your opinions on the world".

"Sherlock!" Amelia glared at him angrily as he shoved the magazine away from him, across the coffee table before curling up on his side, facing away from them, "I know that you're frustrated but there's no reason to take that out on either John or I!"

John stood from his chair and walked back over to where he left his jacket, "Where are you going?" Sherlock frowned, glancing over his shoulder as he heard him stand up and walk around.

"Out," John told him firmly, pulling his jacket on as he made his way towards the living room door and out towards the stairs, "I need some air".

"Oh, sorry, love!" Mrs Hudson laughed slightly as she made her way up the stairs just as John was going down them, stepping onto the landing as she tapped lightly on the open living room door, "Ooh-ooh!" she smiled warmly at Amelia, who returned the smile, "Hello, Amelia, dear".

"Mrs Hudson," Amelia greeted her warmly, standing up and taking the green shopping bag she was carrying, "Here, let me take that for you," she cast a look over at Sherlock, frowning at him as he kept his back towards them, "Sherlock's having one of his moods, again".

"Thank you, dear," the older woman smiled at her again, letting her take the bag as she wondered off into the kitchen before glancing at Sherlock, "Have you had a little domestic?" she asked him as he struggled to pull himself upright before he stood, standing on top of the coffee table and walking over it, and walking over to the left-hand window, peeking out down to the street below around the edge of the lace curtain, "Ooh, it's a bit nippy out there," she commented as she moved into the kitchen, helping Amelia to put some of the shopping away, "He should have wrapped himself up a bit more".

"I'm sure he'll be fine, Mrs Hudson," Amelia reassured her as she finished putting away a couple of items and stepped back into the living room, sitting back in John's chair.

"Look at that, Mrs Hudson," Sherlock remarked from the window, staring down at the street as he watched John walk off down the street and away from his view, "Quite, calm, peaceful," he grimaced as if it was something horrible, taking a deep breath, "Isn't it hateful?"

"Hmm, simply horrific," Amelia nodded sarcastically as she rested her chin on the palm of her hand, her elbow on the armrest, "I have no idea why we're still living around here".

"Oh, I'm sure something'll turn up, Sherlock," Mrs Hudson told him, pulling the shopping receipt out of her pocket and waving it at him from the kitchen before putting it down on the kitchen table, "A nice murder. That'll cheer you up," she walked back into the living room, heading towards the door with her shopping bag in hand.

"Can't come soon enough," he muttered, sounding almost wistful.

"Hey!" she stopped as she caught sight of the painted smiley face on the wall and the bullet holes, "What have you done to my bloody wall?" she gasped as Sherlock smirked to himself, spinning around to admire his work, Amelia simply shook her head, "I'm putting this on your rent, young man!" she told him angrily before turning and storming back downstairs.

"Well done, Sherlock," Amelia sighed as she stood, stepping over to the coffee table as she picked up the magazine he had cast aside earlier and flickered through it, still standing, "You've managed to drive John out of the flat, earn yourself an extra bit of rent to pay, and make me rethink ever going near your fridge again if you plan to keep anymore severed heads in there. You've truly out done yourself, Holmes".

"Don't you have your own flat to be in, Amelia?" Sherlock shot her a look.

"Yes, but as you so clearly just love being in my company, I thought I would stick around. Besides, whoever would you have here to run off next?"

Sherlock didn't say anything, merely choosing to look at his smiley face, grinning in an almost scary clown like fashion at it before sighing and turning away from it when a massive explosion went off suddenly from somewhere outside, knocking him and Amelia to the floor, making him groan loudly.

…..

Amelia winced as she stood in front of her bathroom mirror as she took in the cut just above her left eyebrow, ending just before it reached her hairline going on a diagonal line. She had received it when the explosion had caused her to hit the floor and she had hit her forehead on the corner of the coffee table. Luckily, it wasn't very deep and she had been checked over by one of the ambulance offices that had attended the scene of the explosion, had it cleaned up, and a badged over it, but it still hurt.

She shook her head and quickly looked herself over. She was dressed in a black fitted dress that had a thick belt around the waist, dark red leather, heeled boots that came to just below her knees, and she had left her hair out, red lipstick and nail polish. In her ears, she had a pair of stud, diamond earrings, and around her neck was a pear drop crystal and diamond necklace. All very professional looking…aside from the Band-Aid that she had attempted to cover with her hair before giving up.

She turned away from the mirror and stepped back into her adjoining bedroom, grabbing her dark red handbag and black coat that had a thick, furry collar off her bed before walking out of the room, down the hall, and into the kitchen/living room, sighing slightly as she took in all the glass and bits of brick, thick dust covering the entire room on every surface from the explosion that had blown out both windows. The entire place looked terrible and there was going to be quite a clean-up later on.

Casting one last look at the mess, she turned and headed through the door connecting her and Sherlock and John's flat with each other, just as John's voice echoed up through the staircase as he came running up, "Sherlock, Amelia!" he called, sounding slightly worried, "Sherlock, Amelia…" he trailed off as he spotted Amelia standing on the landing, just about to step into the living room, "Oh, good," he said in relief before frowning in mild concern, "What happened to your head?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Amelia waved his concern away, lightly reaching up to touch the band aid, "I just hit it against the corner of the coffee table, I didn't even need stitchers".

"You've had it checked and cleaned?" he asked, going into doctor mode.

"Yes, and yes," she nodded, smiling assuredly at him, "I'm fine, John. Really".

She turned and stepped into the living room, John following to see Sherlock sitting in his armchair, looking perfectly fine and completely unharmed, fully dressed in his usual black dress trousers, plum coloured shirt, and black dress jacket as he glared at John's normal armchair were Mycroft was sitting, absently plucking the strings of his violin, "John, Amelia," he said, glancing up at them.

"I saw it on the telly," John told him, "Are you alright?" he asked him, still appearing to be in doctor mode.

"Hmm? What?" he glanced back over to the mess of broken glass and scattered paper work, seeming to have forgotten about it, "Oh, yeah. Fine. Gas leak, apparently," he turned back to his brother, still fiddling with his violin, "I can't".

"'Can't?'" Mycroft repeated, raising his eyebrows at him as Amelia draped her handbag and coat over the armrest of the sofa before sitting down on it, having given up trying to find somewhere that was covered in dust.

"Stuff I've got on is just too big. I can't spear the time".

John and Amelia looked over at him, raising their eyebrows at his complete and utter lie as John unzipped his jacket and pulled it off.

"Never mind your usual trivia," Mycroft told him, "This is of national importance".

Sherlock strummed the strings loudly, "How's the diet?" he asked him, almost in a mocking tone.

"Fine," he gave him a firm look before glancing over to John and Amelia, "Perhaps you can get through to him, John, Amelia?"

"I do believe that that's wishful thinking on your part, Mycroft," Amelia commented, smiling slightly as she glanced at Sherlock.

"What?" John frowned, sounding confused as he looked away from where he had been examining the damage the blast had caused to one of the windows, eyeing how they had been bordered over.

"I'm afraid my brother can be very intransigent," Mycroft smiled slightly.

"If you're so keen," Sherlock raised his eyebrows at him, "Why don't you investigate it?"

"No, no, no, no, no," he quickly said, shaking his head, "I can't possibly be away from the office for any length of time. Not with the Korean elections so…" he trailed off quickly as Sherlock, Amelia, and John all turned to him, "Well…you don't need to know that, do you?" he smiled at them, clearly trying to cover up his near slip, "Besides, a case like this," he grimaced in clear distaste, "It requires…legwork".

Sherlock seemed to let his finger slip as he plucked another string, looking irritated by his brother's remark as he glanced over to John, watching him as he absently rubbed the back of his neck, "How's Sarah, John?" he asked him, "How was the lilo?"

"Sofa, Sherlock," Mycroft corrected him, not even looking up as he checked his pocket watch, "It was the sofa".

Sherlock glanced over at John again, looking him up and down, "Oh, yes, of course".

"How…" John stared at Mycroft, quickly trailing off as he shook his head, knowing better then to ask, "Oh, never mind".

"Sherlock's business seems to be booming since you, Amelia, and he became…pales," he smirked at them as Sherlock shot him a dark look, "What's he like to live with? Hellish, I imagine".

"I'm never bored".

"That's one way to describe it, John," Amelia remarked, looking slightly amused as she glanced over at him.

"Good," Mycroft smiled again, "That's good, isn't it?" he stood and held out a file towards Sherlock, waiting for him to take it as he held up his violin bow in front of him, giving him a stubborn look, making his brother grimace at him before turning and walking over to John and Amelia, holding out the file to them, "Andrew West, known as Westie to his friends," he began explaining as John shot Sherlock an almost startled look as he took the file, "A civil servant, found dead on the tracks of Battersea Station this morning with his head smashed in".

Amelia glanced at the file, taking it, opening it and quickly scanning the pages, "Jumped in front of a train?" John guessed.

"Seems the logical assumption".

John smiled slightly, "But…?"

"'But?"

"Well, you wouldn't be here if it was an accident".

Sherlock smirked, laughing slightly as he looked up from where he was running a piece of cloth over his bow.

"How very true, John," Amelia smiled, looking amused by his remark before she went back to scanning the file.

"The MoD is working on a new missile defence system," Mycroft continued, pointedly ignoring their remarks, "The Bruce-Partington Program it's called. The plans for it were on a memory stick".

"That wasn't very clever," John commented, laughing slightly as he looked up at him. Sherlock and Amelia smiling slightly in agreement.

"It's not the only copy," he told John.

"Oh".

"But it is secret. And missing".

"Top secret?"

"Very," Mycroft nodded in confirmation, "We think West must have taken the memory stick. We can't possibly risk it falling into the wrong hands," he cast Sherlock a stern look before glancing at Amelia, "You've got to find those plans, Sherlock, Amelia," he focused on Sherlock, "Don't make me order you".

Sherlock took a deep breath, raising his violin to his shoulder and preparing to play, looking up at his brother calmly, "I'd like to see you try," he told him, a challenging tone in his voice.

Mycroft leaned closer towards him, "Think it over," he told him, smiling at him as Sherlock merely raised his eyebrows as he turned away from him and offered his hand to John, "Goodbye, John," John quickly stood and shook his hand, giving him a strange smile, "See you very soon," he then turned to Amelia, holding out his hand again as she took it and shook it, "And, you to, Amelia".

Amelia raised her eyebrows at him as he walked back over to his chair to grab his coat, just as Sherlock began playing a series of very loud, screeching notes on his violin until Mycroft walked out of the room and downstairs, the front door opening and closing behind him before he finally stopped.

"Why did you lie?" John asked him as he sat back down on the coffee table, making sure Mycroft really had left before speaking, "You've got nothing on…not a single case. That's why the wall took a pounding," he gestured over to the wall behind him, "Why did you tell your brother you were busy?"

Sherlock shrugged at him, "Why shouldn't I?" he asked, using the bow of his violin to scratch the back of his head.

"Oh!" he nodded slowly, realising something, "Nice," Sherlock glanced at him, narrowing his eyes slightly as Amelia looked at John curiously, wondering what he had realised, "Sibling rivalry. Now we're getting somewhere".

Amelia coughed, struggling to stop herself from laughing, "Oh, yeah, you're right," she nodded at John, smiling slowly, "I can just picture them, the Holmes boys bickering with each other as little kids, can't you? Well, I actually find it hard to picture Mycroft as a kid…"

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something when he was cut off by the sound of his phone ringing. He frowned, looking vaguely annoyed as he reached inside his pocket and pulled his phone out, answering it, "Sherlock Holmes," he spoke into it, listening for a moment, "Of course. How could I refuse?" he clicked the phone off, slipping it back inside his pocket as he stood and put his violin on his seat, heading towards the door, "Lestrade," he told the other two, "We've been summoned. Coming?" he glanced at John.

"If you want me to," John sighed as he stood, Amelia following suit as she slipped on her coat, grabbing her handbag.

"Of course," Sherlock replied, grabbing his coat as he turned back to look at them, smirking, "I'd be lost without my blogger and privet detective".

And with that, they turned and walked down stairs.

And we've finally reached The Great Game! Ooh, I've been waiting for this episode for so long now. I'm sorry about the lateness, but again, school work has been cutting into my time. The outfit Amelia's wearing is on my profile. I hope you liked it, tell me what you thought, please review :)