Competition between brothers

Sherlock had always been competing with his brother since childhood. Although he was much better physically having mastered boxing, fencing, and swordsmanship; when comparing their mental abilities Mycroft always had the upper hand.

While most would consider this a sort of draw between the two brothers, Sherlock didn't think so. Because he knew, his brother was physically gifted as well with his tall figure, strong bones, and a strong body. It was just Mycroft's laziness that wasted his own potential.

So when it came to competing between the brothers there was only one game that mattered. And that was the game of observation and deduction. While both the brothers used these skills in different places, they had honed them competing with each other.

The rules for the game were simple, they would pick a random person anywhere and each of them had to observe and deduce facts about that person. The one with the greater number of correct deductions would win.

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Diogenes Club

While walking through the lobby, Sherlock was reminiscing about all the times he played the same game with Mycroft in his previous world. Although he hated to admit it, not being able to win even once did affect him a little.

This competition would undoubtedly be unfair with his superhuman abilities against a normal Mycroft, but he didn't care too much. It was just a childish game that the brothers had never grown out of. He was more interested in what face Mycroft would make when he loses for the first time.

Passing through the opulent doors he walked into a room that smelled strongly of cigars and whiskey. It took a bit to find his brother amongst a bunch of English noblemen spending their ancestor's ill-gotten gains.

"Mycroft. It seems you're already prepared." He greeted Mycroft as he sat down opposite his brother by the window. Mycroft just glanced at him and gave him a nod before looking out the large open window. There was a busy square opposite the window with a lot of foot traffic.

"It's calming to just take in the sights of people living their lives. You can see and learn so much." Mycroft spoke while still gazing at the square.

"I'd rather believe you're keeping an eye out for recruits to add to your merry band of spies. Agents, you call them right?" Sherlock retorted not believing for a second that his brother would spend time on something tedious like philosophy.

"The particularly good pickpockets do make for good agents if groomed well. But that's beside the point, pick one." Mycroft replied while pointing at the square with his chin.

"Female. Blue scarf, white dress. Around 23-24 years of age. Partially blind. Austrian. Works in a traveling circus. Fortune teller." Holmes started to speak after looking outside for a few minutes. Mycroft followed his brother's line of sight and started observing the girl as well.

After Sherlock stopped speaking he looked at Mycroft with a smile. "Interesting… how did you deduce about her being a fortune-teller?" Mycroft asked with an interesting look on his face. Honestly, he was shocked. More than Sherlock being able to deduce so much, he was surprised that the girl seemed to be actively trying to hide, giving him as little information for deduction as possible.

"The bag she is carrying has a bump on the side that is consistent with the spherical crystal balls they use in the divination. Also, her forehead has a barely visible tan line that is consistent with the bandana the 'fortune tellers' like to wear. There are also the tan lines on her fingers with missing rings. To wear that many rings you'd either have to be a pretentious noblewoman or a pretend fortune-teller." Sherlock spoke with a smile.

"Although, she seems to have some secrets to keep. You might be interested in her." Sherlock added after some thought.

All the while Mycroft was silently listening to his brother while observing the girl.

'Sherlock's eyesight seems to have gotten much better, it seems to be even better than the marksmen we train. His breathing is much deeper and slower as well. His body seems to have gotten to be in top shape in just a few weeks of me not seeing him. He's also asking questions about the secrets.'

Mycroft spoke while still thinking, "I've already signaled one of my men to follow her. Now about what you wanted, I admit you've won. Not by a better observation or deduction skill but I'll concede this one. I'll give you the secrets you want. But don't you have something to tell me?"

Sherlock smiled wide and looked at his brother in amusement. "I'd have to doubt if you were even Mycroft if you didn't figure it out. It's nothing big really now I can just do things like this!" As he was speaking the spoon in front of him moved on its own and started pouring two scoops of sugar into his cup and then it started stirring the tea.

Mycroft almost jumped out of his chair at the sight of the spoon moving on its own, causing the people around them to look at him strangely. But he quickly calmed down and reorganized his thoughts.

"You've become one of the mutants? Or is that magic?" "What else can you do? And does it have any dangers?"

Looking at his brother firing a barrage of questions filled with a mixture of concern, excitement, and curiosity Sherlock could almost see the overlapped image of his brother's younger self with his current image.

"I think it's a mutation, don't remember learning magic. Just telekinesis with some increased mental prowess and a better physical constitution though. Nothing too grand. And no, I don't think there is any danger, at least not yet." Sherlock tried not to give too many details but still answered truthfully.

Mycroft knew Sherlock wouldn't tell him everything but he was relieved anyway. Now his troublemaking brother could save himself better. If only the rascal could stop making trouble that he had to clean up later. Mycroft sighed in his heart.

"You probably already know but try not to show your powers in front of others. I've been getting reports that Essex has been collecting people with deformities and weird abilities all over the lower parts of London." Mycroft warned his brother.

"I know. I won't end up in some crazy scientists' experiment table." Sherlock picked up the envelope Mycroft had set aside and put it in his pocket, preparing to leave as he continued, "There are things we need to discuss in private. I'll contact you again when I'm prepared. For now, I need to get ready to meet your magic bald monk. Something tells me they're expecting me."