Chapter One // By Chance's Mercy

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BEHIND THE FACADE, LEINISTER GARDENS

A table was set up in a narrow hallway, just enough room for two to sit and play a game of cards against one another. This particular game was reaching its close, but their interaction was far from over.

Sherlock Holmes peered across the table at his adversary, attempting to use his powers of deduction to reveal something about them. But his opponent had taken precautions against him finding out much of anything.

Sitting across from him was a figure wearing a cloak that covered their every feature and gloves that hid their hands. They had equipped a voice changer that laid on top of the mask they used to hide their face. Anything that could be used to identify them had been disguised.

"It must be amusing to you, wearing a mask," Sherlock said, leaning back in his chair.

"I don't understand your meaning, Mr. Holmes," the figure replied with its altered voice. There was a lack of inflection to be found within the voice, Sherlock noted.

"It's the ultimate poker face," Sherlock sighed. "I can't read a thing off of your face. One could even call it cheating, if they were to go so far."

"You see, Mr. Holmes," the figure said, "it's not truly cheating. I am only equipping a mask in order to conceal my identity. It has very little to do with the game we are currently a part of."

Sherlock simply nodded in the figure's direction, unsure of how to take this.

"I assure you, it was not an attempt to rig this game. I wish this to be as fair as possible, Mr. Holmes."

"Of course," Sherlock replied, shuffling through the cards in his hand once again. "I was only making sure."

"You like to be sure, then?" the figure asked.

"I'm a detective. Of course I like being sure," Sherlock said. "While you must infer much from the situation at hand, the more hard evidence you have the better."

"I see," the figure replied, nodding their cloaked head. "Well, in any other situation I would offer to remove the mask, but of course this doesn't work in the particular moment."

"Well, don't worry yourself too much over it," Sherlock said, glancing down at his cards once again. "I have been informed by many that I am similar to a robot. I don't display emotions, which leads many to believe I don't feel them."

"But you do," the figure said, completing his statement. "You are just as human as the rest of us."

"Precisely," Sherlock replied, nodding. "Even the most sociopathic feel emotions, it's just a matter of expressing them."

"Sociopathic?" the figure echoed. "You consider yourself to be a sociopath, then?"

"That was the point I was intending to get across, yes," Sherlock said.

"Hm," the figure replied, giving off the impression they were in deep thought even though there was little to be seen. "I'm not so sure that 'sociopath' is the best word to describe you."

"You've only just met me," Sherlock began. "Besides, I'm not just any sociopath. I am a highly functioning one. I doubt you have enough information or expertise to psychoanalyse me."

"I apologise, Mr. Holmes," the figure replied. "I was prying too far. I hope you will forgive me for going too far."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, looking across the table towards the shadowy figure. He wasn't used to anyone he was opposing being so polite. Even people who considered himself to be on the same side on didn't seem to have that many manners towards him. Not even his best friend could resist being rude to him from time to time. He didn't mind, however.

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