A/N: Definitely had 2009 movie vibes for this one, lol. Gotta love the characters' quick banter.

Prompt 02: From cjnwriter – Lestrade beats Holmes at something.

'You know, in another life, you'd have made an excellent criminal.'

'Yes, and you, sir, an excellent policeman.'

Battle of Wills

Holmes and Watson are in Baker Street.

Watson is stood by Holmes's bedroom door, holding up a waistcoat that has been massacred with chemicals and bullets, beyond saving. Holmes is eyeing both the garment and Watson from his armchair, chin resting in his palm and one brow twitching upwards in the tell-tale way that Watson knows is Holmes debating whether to opt for truth or lie.

They stare out this silent battle, a brief argument flitting between their gazes ('I know it was you.' - 'Moi?, your Honour.'), and then a temporary truce is called when there is a knock on the door and Lestrade bursts into the room.

The Inspector's eyes are bright, his smile threatening to split his face in two.

"I've found Buckingham!"

"Well done, Inspector," says Holmes, uninterested. "I'm sure the Queen will be delighted."

Watson scowls at him, firing off another silent message ('don't be an ass.'). Holmes's lip curves ('don't be a bore.')

Inspector ignores the barb, waves an impatient hand. "Archie Buckingham."

Holmes shifts in his chair, failing to hide his surprise.

"Where?"

"Does it matter?" Lestrade asks, near rocking on his heels in his delight. "You owe me a bottle of whisky."

/-/-/

At Holmes's insistence, Lestrade does take them to Buckingham.

The man is sprawled on the front steps of Scotland Yard, his expression as rigid as the concrete beneath him. Both of his arms are raised and tied to the railings by rope that has been looped and knotted multiple times. Nine, Holmes sees. Clarkey is stood next to Buckingham, meticulously untying each one, his fingers tinged with cold. Watson bends to help him, watching Buckingham cautiously as he does so.

Holmes studies the man whom had evaded two pursuits and the persistent watch of his Irregulars for over a week. The man who burnt down old Maison's pawn shop and left the owner for dead. The man whom Lestrade claimed he and his officers could find before Holmes and his 'tiny army of pickpocket nuisances.'

He turns to Lestrade. "Someone has brought him here."

"Well, yes," Lestrade says. "He hardly tied himself to the railing."

Holmes's mouth thins. "Someone has brought him here," he repeats slowly, "which makes our wager obsolete."

"As I recall, Mr. Holmes, your words were 'the first person to procure Buckingham gets the whisky.' Here he is." Lestrade gestures to the man, and then to himself. "Here I am. I'd say that makes it my victory, wouldn't you?" He doesn't wait for an answer, calls to Clarkey, "Wouldn't you agree, Clarkey?"

"Of course, sir," Clarkey says by rote, his fingers so numb he'd happily accept a whisky off Buckingham at this point, were the man carrying any.

Holmes huffs his displeasure. His gaze falls on Watson, though he does not need to see Watson's eyes to know that laughter lies beneath.

Penance for that damn waistcoat, Holmes thinks.

End