Brilliance

Chapter 1

"You're retiring?" Sherlock asked, confused, "do people actually do that?"

"Yes, dear," Mrs. Hudson replied gently, she knew Sherlock was very dependant on her as an assistant.

"But why?" He asked, obviously still stunned, even though he would never admit it.

"Old age gets to us all, doesn't it, Sherlock?" She smiled delicately.

"But Mrs. Hudson, I need an assistant." He said, pacing back and forth through his study and running his fingers through the dark brown curls on his head.

"Then you'll need to find somebody else, love, I'm afraid I can't keep up with you anymore."

They stood in silence for a while, Sherlock in his mind palace --it was a way to help him think, although he normally only used it when he had very severe writer's block-- and Mrs. Hudson trying to figure out a way to tell the famous author that she was finally taking her retirement time and wouldn't take no for an answer.

"I'll keep working for you until you find somebody else," Mrs. Hudson sighed, "but I'm posting an ad on that website of yours." She said, shaking a finger at him and grabbing her coat, exiting his house.

Sherlock didn't give her the slightest bit of acknowledgement or agreement, but he had heard her, her voice was echoing throughout the rooms in his mind palace, ricocheting off of every wall. How could she be leaving his side? She had been there to support him throughout his entire career. He finally opened his eyes and became aware of everything around him; his laptop was gently centred in the middle of his mahogany desk, there were several different possible covers for his new book scattered around it and Mrs. Hudson had spilled some of his tea from this morning on the cream coloured carpet, maybe it was best she was leaving him. He mentally scolded himself for thinking that and continued observing his study. The walls, white with brown hexagonal patterns, were starting to fade under the influence of the large window that occupied most of the wall behind his desk, overlooking his beautifully kept lawn and gardens, a single grey statue of an angel with its face buried almost shamefully in its hands stood in the middle of it all. It seemed like somebody was always looking at that angel, and once, a man named John Smith had even offered to buy it, Sherlock had immediately refused.

"You're very slow today, brother mine." A deep voice echoed throughout the room, Sherlock spun around and saw a tall, bulky ginger leaning against the doorframe, "You didn't even notice my arrival, I'm offended." He mimicked a look of hurt and pressed a hand to the hole in his chest where his heart should've been.

"What do you want, Mycroft?" Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes at the idiocy of his brother.

"Well, I came here to check on you for mummy, you know how she worries, Sherlock, but I met Mrs. Hudson on the way upstairs and she told me all about her retirement plans; vacationing, going to the beach, having free time." He spat out each of these words as if they were poison in his mouth.

"She can do what she likes." Sherlock replied coolly, "I was planning on hiring a new assistant anyways, I can't be seen wandering around with an old lady."

"Don't lie, it doesn't suit you." Mycroft retaliated with a smirk, twirling his black umbrella casually.

"That's enough chat for one day, don't you think, My?" The younger brother asked, trying to hold back a grin when he saw the unamused expression on the elder's face caused by the nickname.

"Yes, right, but before I go," Mycroft insisted, "I should advise you to check your blog; there are some interesting candidates for the position of your personal assistant and I think you should consider your options wisely." He said smoothly, trying to avoid another petty nickname.

At this point, Sherlock had started walking out of his study. Mycroft at his heels, the pair of them descended the spiralling staircase to the lower level and Sherlock opened the gigantic front doors to the mansion. Staring intently at Mycroft, his eyebrows raised, Sherlock ushered his brother to the shiny black SUV he knew all too well. Memories of being forced into that same car and being driven to remote locations just to meet his brother flooded Sherlock's head, no matter how many times he tried to delete them, they kept coming back. He hated his brother, he hated that car, but most of all, he hated-

"Sherlock? Sherlock!" He was driven back to reality by Mycroft's cold, uncomfortable voice. "Dear god, you really are slow today." He shook his head in a disproving manner and shut the door to the car, but rolled the window down.

The purr of the V8 engine sent vibrations through Sherlock's legs as he stared intently at his brother, waiting for him to speak, but to his surprise, Mycroft said nothing and the form that had once been a sleek, black SUV, turned into a mere speck of black as it sped out of Sherlock's smooth paved driveway and through the gates. He turned on his heels and looked back at the huge stone building that he was proud to call his home. Large windows occupied most of the front, accompanied by two huge black doors with golden door knockers that Sherlock was very fond of, in fact, the main doors were his favourite part of the entire house. His moment of admiration was interrupted, however, when his mobile started buzzing frantically. He dug it out of his pocket; 5 missed texts from 'Idiot' illuminated the screen. They read;

Lovely chat, wish I could have stayed longer. -MH

You really ought to look at your blog. -MH

Ignoring me won't do you any good, Sherlock. -MH

Just promise me you'll hire somebody suitable. -MH

And change my bloody name in your phone. -MH

Sherlock smiled at the last text, and obeyed his brother's orders; Contacts-'Idiot'-Change Name-'Stupid Git'-Save. His phone buzzed again;

You're so immature. -MH

Pushing his phone back out of site, Sherlock walked into his home and headed straight back to his study. He sat in the leather chair behind the large desk and opened his laptop, logging on to his blog. Sure enough, Mrs. Hudson had already posted an ad and there were quite a few comments for the position. Sherlock scrolled lazily through them, occasionally clicking on the blogs of the commenters, but none really stood out, none except a particularly literate bloke who caught his attention. Sherlock clicked on the commenter's blog and started reading some of his entries, which were surprisingly okay, some were actually moderately interesting. There was also a phone number added to the blog. He decided then, that tomorrow morning, he would call the guy and arrange an interview.

That night when Sherlock went to bed, there was no denying that he was excited to phone the commenter, John H. Watson, in the morning.

A/N

So hi, this is my first actual fanfiction on here and I just want to say thanks to anybody who actually reads this!

Feel free to correct me at any time.

Also, I'll try to update this as much as I can.

But I don't really know where I'm going with this story so we'll be riding this roller coaster together.

My chapters are probably going to be fairly short.

Just a heads up.

And I'll try not to post too many author's notes like this one.

Thanks, byee! :)