"You ought to know better than that."
He did not bother to lift his gaze from the newspaper. "Than what? While you have certainly gotten better over the years, we both know you have very little talent for acting."
I rolled my eyes, still trying to decide whether he truly believed that or if he was simply in the mood to argue.
"You ought to know better than to think you can always see through one of my disguises," I shot back. "Need I remind you of the first time I used your disguise materials?"
The newspaper rustled loudly. "That was once," he grumbled, "and you only succeeded because I did not expect you to be able to do it."
A few months after his return, I had disguised myself as a working-class immigrant well enough to completely fool Mrs. Hudson and make Holmes pause. While something about it had bothered him at the time—probably that he had not seen through it immediately—he had not hesitated to use my newfound ability to his advantage. I had donned a disguise to join him on a case many times over the years.
"What about when you walked right by me in that bar?" He did not lift the paper quickly enough to hide his scowl, and I leaned back in my chair with a grin. "I had to approach you before you recognized me."
"That does not mean you are capable of doing it on command." He turned another page, but his disinterested tone could not completely cover his amusement, which answered my question. He was bored, and this had become a game.
If it would keep him busy, I could oblige.
"A contest, then. Three tries to fool the other; anything goes."
He finally lowered the paper. "Time limit?"
I thought quickly, deciding on the terms.
"No expiration, but it pauses if you get a case." I could hardly have him trying to fool me if we were chasing a criminal, and that also meant that he could not accidently put either of us in danger if he went a malingering route. "The aim is to trick, not scare, each attempt must stay between us, and the trick succeeds five minutes past contact."
A genuine scowl suddenly warred with interest. "They are our cases, not mine," he corrected. "Loser buys supper twice."
I debated, then shook my head. I had not eaten out in over a week for very good reason. "Loser runs the other's errands for three days," I countered, ignoring the correction.
He frowned at me but nodded, probably deducing why I had changed the wager, and I pulled myself out of my chair. He raised an eyebrow in silent question.
"It is cheating for you to see through my disguise," I informed him, "solely because you know what materials you are missing."
A laugh nearly escaped as he waved permission, and I moved a little of everything in his chest of disguises to the half-empty chest in my room. This would be interesting.
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