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.

"You are forgiven," Sherlock said. "Now...shall we get back to the game?"

"It's your move first," the figure replied. Sherlock wasn't so sure this was the case, but he went along with it anyways.

"I don't believe you ever told me what you were playing for - I am aware that if I win, I will recieve the facade on Leinster Gardens, but I do not know what you will claim if you were to win. In a game of betting, I would like to know precisely what my wager is."

"I believe you might be better off ignorant of that fact, Mr. Holmes."

"There is very little that I'd be better off ignorant about," Sherlock growled, moving immediately into a mode to be offensive. "This is not one of those exceptions."

"Then let me tell it to you as it is: I win, I take your kidneys," the figure said, as matter of factly as they could manage with a voice changer covering up the majority of their voice's inflection.

"My kidneys?" Sherlock said, his voice filled with mock surprise.

"Is this amusing to you, Mr. Holmes?"

"No, but it just confirmed my suspicions that you are a cannibal," Sherlock replied. "Thank you for letting me know."

"Then you're not alarmed by the possibility of you losing your kidneys," the figure said. Even though the voice changer masked much of the emotion put into the words, it was impossible to miss the confusion laced within the voice.

"We are playing a game of poker," Sherlock responded, raising his brow. "Emoting whatever I feel inside is a waste of time in a normal situation, and a true weakness in a game such as this."

"Fine," the figure replied. "Explain to me how you figured it out. That requires no 'emoting,' as you say."

"The Clarence House Cannibal," Sherlock explained, those four words holding masses of meaning. "It was a case I worked on several years ago and was never able to figure out. We could not determine a thing about the culprit of the crimes besides the fact that they were a cannibal."

"That holds no connections to me," the figure said. "I asked you to explain, and you did not do such a thing."

"I was getting to that," Sherlock said, gritting his teeth in slight frustration. "You see, the murderer left behind no traces of who they were or what their motivation was. This is alarmingly similar to you at the moment."

A sigh came through the voice changer before the figure replied, "I don't think this is a good reason to be so sure of yourself."

"Of course not," Sherlock replied. "There is more evidence than that. There is always multiple points of evidence for anything and everything I figure out."

"You wouldn't mind sharing it with me? You haven't gone over that much so far..."

"The kidneys, then," Sherlock pushed. "You'd want my kidneys in order to consume them."

"Who's to say that I don't want the kidneys for some other reason? Perhaps I want them for some sort of a kidney donation."

Sherlock let out another sigh before he said, "Fascinating that you're fixating yourself on kidneys. Cannibalism causes reduced kidney functioning. Perhaps you do want a kidney so that you may fix your own."

"That could be a possibility," the figure replied. They were enjoying themself, leading Sherlock around and twisting his thoughts. It wasn't the first time they had done such a thing to another human being, but it was just every bit as enjoyable.

Without warning, Sherlock reached over and pulled up the edge of the figure's glove so that a piece of their skin was bared to him. A single glimpse was all he needed to confirm his supsicions. The figure's skin was ghastly pale, as if they had never gone outside. The outlines of blue and red veins branched throughout their hand.

The figure immediately pulled their hand away, pushing the glove back down so it covered the entirety of their hand once again. They felt thoroughly uncomfortable with any part of them being revealed to Sherlock after covering up everything completely for so long.

"Pale skin," Sherlock noted. While people often associate it with fictional vampires, it's found in real life cannibals. It could be attributed to a tendency to stay inside, but this is not the case with you."

"Very clever, Mr. Holmes. Is there any other information you're going to share with me to explain how you figured out I was a cannibal?"

"There is one thing I have left, actually," Sherlock said, lifting his nose up.

"And what is that?"

"I didn't know if you were actually a cannibal or not," Sherlock admitted. "I was bluffing, and you went along with it enough to allow me to figure out what was going on. I must thank you for that."

"Then I must say you're welcome...except I'm not sure that's what I should be saying, Mr. Holmes. You did do a good job bluffing, I must admit," the figure said.

"We are playing a game of poker," Sherlock replied. "If I weren't confident in my bluffing abilities, I wouldn't be here."

"Is your way of admitting to me that you're bluffing in the game at the moment?"

"Not at all."

"I didn't think so."

"I suspected you were a previous adversary from another case as soon as I spotted you in your...clothing. There are only so many reasons for using a disguise," Sherlock said, starting to explain his thoughts. Now that he knew someone was listening to him, he couldn't help but show off.

He continued as he said, "I figured that as you were wandering about the world and were covering up everything, it must have been from a case that went unsuccessfully. That lowered the possiblities dramatically. I just went through those and figured out that you must be the Clarence House Cannibal."

"That is a very fascinating train of thought, Mr. Holmes," the figure replied, giving a slight nod of their head as they ran their gloved fingers over the edges of the cards. "I must admit, I am thoroughly impressed by the process of your mind."

"Then you can admit it yourself: you are the Clarence House Cannibal," Sherlock said.

"I am indeed the Clarence House Cannibal," the figure replied, not holding it back any longer. "That's all you must know at the moment. Aside from that bit of information, I'm not so sure I want to say much of anything else to you."

"I'll deduce what I can," Sherlock said. "You don't have to say a thing."

"You must be pleased to have found the culprit of those killings, then," the cannibal said. "I can only imagine as soon as our game is complete you will apprehend me, if you don't stop the game short and call the police to arrest me now, Mr. Holmes."

"That would be no fun," Sherlock said, shaking his head. It was true, the case of the Clarence House Cannibal had tormented him from the moment he had been forced to give up on it. But it had been such a challenge, such a thrill...

By letting the Clarence House Cannibal out into the world again, he was giving himself the opportunity for another case. John would have shrieked at him for doing such a thing - "You're letting people die for your entertainment!" John would say. "Poor, innocent people would be eaten just for your entertainment!"

John would be right, of course. But even if John was right, Sherlock didn't care. His blogger wasn't with him at the moment, after all. Besides, this was one of the most polite murderers he had ever met in his life. As long as he left Leinister Garden with his kidneys, he could let the culprit go for a while.

"You are a fascinating man, Mr. Holmes," the cannibal replied. "There are few I have met in my line of work as fascinating as you - but don't think I haven't met others just as fascinating as you."

"Attempting to make me feel less special, I see," Sherlock said, shuffling through the cards in his hands. "If you're trying to break me down and reveal my hand, you'll be sorely mistaken."

"I wasn't trying to do such a thing," the cannibal said. "I would never stoop so low as to mess with someone's psyche in order to win a game, even if it was one concerning a facade and kidneys."

"Well, then," Sherlock replied, unsure of how best to respond.

"Few people realise just how much skill and strategy is used within a game of poker, especially a game such as we are playing at the moment," the cannibal said.

"That is true," Sherlock agreed. "Most people would look over and see somebody like us sitting around staring at a bunch of cards and chips. But it is much more than that."

"Well, of course," the cannibal responded. "There are many things which look far shallower on the surface. But then you tread into such waters and find them to be very deep."

Sherlock lifted his eyebrow once again, calculating his options for responding to the cannibal that sat before him. "I'm reminded of my deductions, especially in this particular situation."

"Oh?"

"There are two ways that people try to avoid me making deductions about them: covering everything, and covering nothing. While I have seen both, I find that the former actually reveals much about the person concealed within," Sherlock began, his eyes flitting from his cards to the figure sitting before him.

"Fascinating, Mr. Holmes."

"Glad that you think so," Sherlock replied. Then, before the cannibal could respond, he continued. "I have already revealed that you are the Clarence House Cannibal. But there is more that you attempting to hide from me."

"Hm."

"The thing is, by showing that you are trying to hide your identity by covering up your entire body, you are allowing me to know that you must have a distinctive look. Not a single part of you has been left behind."

Now, the cannibal didn't make a sound in response. They must have been paying deep attention and attempting to think through his thought process, Sherlock decided.

"You even went so far as to use a voice changer. You wouldn't bother using a voice changer if your voice were forgettable, if it weren't something unique and memorable. This leads me to believe one of two things must be the case..."

"Which would be?" the figure prompted.

"I have no reason to tell you," Sherlock replied, deciding to play the same sort of mind game with him. If the figure would give away nothing, he would do the same in return. After all, it was only fair. He felt his lips curling up into a smile.

"I would truly appreciate it if you let me know," the cannibal requested.

"Ah, fine, fine," Sherlock replied. "Your voice must not be something that one would expect. Either your voice is of a foreign accent that would distinguish it from those around here, or it would be of a different pitch."

"A...different pitch?" the cannibal asked.

"On either extreme - very low, or very high...like a woman's voice," Sherlock explained.

"Mr. Holmes, I'm afraid that your 'deductions' have become rather invasive. If these were matters that I wished to share with others, then I already would. What you are doing...well, I'm sure you've heard it before, but it's rather rude."

"I don't mind being rude," said Sherlock, nearly rolling his eyes at the cannibal's comment. "I've heard it from many people before, but I continue to make deductions. You're not going to stop me."

"Fine then, Mr. Holmes," the cannibal sighed. "Just know that your impolite actions may come back to hurt you in the future."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a warning."

"I don't appreciate warnings in such a tone," Sherlock responded.

"What tone of voice?" the Clarence House Cannibal said. They let out a laugh as if to demonstrate the fact that they were using a voice changer.

"Good point," Sherlock admitted, closing his eyes. "Now...shall we get back to the game?"

"Not quite yet," the cannibal replied. "I wish to talk to you about your other cases."

"My cases?" Sherlock asked. "Well, you could very well check John's blog. It's not very accurate, but it's popular among the masses."

"Ah, that reminds me...what a pair the two of you are," the cannibal said. "Sherlock Holmes and John Hamish Watson."

Sherlock immediately gave a start as soon as he heard John's middle name.

"How did you know that?"

"You mean Hamish?" the cannibal asked in response.

"What else could I possibly mean?" Sherlock said, gritting his teeth.

The garbled noise that Sherlock chose to interpret as a chuckle made its way through the voice changer. "You must be wondering where I got such information from, yes?"

"I'm absolutely fascinated to know how you got ahold of it. John hates his middle name, he'd never just give it out."

"Let me just say, Mr. Holmes, I have excellent sources. Perhaps they aren't as direct as others, but I still get accurate information."

Sherlock found his thoughts churning around as this new revelation caused him to start thinking deeper about the identity of the cannibal in front of him. The cards in front of him which had been so important before now faded away.

"Now, Mr. Holmes, we may head back to the game," the cannibal said, straightening out their cards on the table. "Your turn. You've had plenty of time to think over what you want to do."

"I've had time, but I haven't been using it to think about the game. I'd prefer not to leave it up to chance."

"Mr. Holmes, poker is a game based on the principles of chance," the cannibal said. "Chance is merciless."

"Ah, but chance is also probability. Everything can be quantified within probability, and therefore I can calculate the possibilities of what might occur. It's facts. Facts are merciless as well, but you can still exploit them."

"You have a point there," said the cannibal, deciding to reveal his hand. "Four of a kind."

Sherlock bit his lip, his eyes flitting over the cards sitting in his hands. Then he turned them around and spread them out in front of him.

"Straight flush," Sherlock announced. "I win."

The Clarence House Cannibal leaned over the table to examine the cards more clearly, allowing Sherlock to scan over more of their body then he had been able to before. But just moments later, they sat back down in their seat and gave a slight nod.

"Indeed, you win. Two, three, four, five, six, all spades. Your talk of probability has rung in your favor."

"Perhaps I only won by chance's mercy," Sherlock said, a smug smile making its way on his face. "It wouldn't the first time such a thing has occurred."

"No matter how much skill is involved in any game, there is always an aspect of chance involved," the cannibal replied, scooping up his cards into his hand and straightening them out into a neat pile. "There's no way to escape that."

"You seem to be diverting your loss from our attention by exentuating the chance involved in the game. Is there a reason for this?"

"No, no reason. It was just something on my mind. I hope you have found me a worthy adversary, even with my loss," the cannibal said.

"Of course," Sherlock said, as if it were the most obvious fact in the world. "You see, it wasn't just about the card game. What makes a true adversary for me is the mind behind it."

"I'm shocked," he replied. "Mr. Holmes, you are now complimenting me when before you felt more compelled to pry me apart."

"Well, I was just getting to that," said Sherlock. "Although you attempted to throw me off your trail with your coverings and your voice changer, you ended up allowing me to deduce quite a bit about you."

"I felt it was the only proper way of disguising my identity. As you said, the only way to attempt to avoid your deductions were to cover up everything or nothing, and I feel the latter would have allowed you to figure out far too much."

"Oh?"

"You're not getting anything more out of me, Mr. Holmes," the cannibal said, another sigh coming over the voice changer.

"Shame," Sherlock sighed. "I was just hoping to extend our game just a bit longer...not with th cards, but the other part of the game."

"I can see why you would be so desperate for such an outcame," they replied. "It has been a good game, Mr. Holmes,"

"I must agree, mister..." Sherlock trailed off at the end of his sentence, allowing the Clarence House Cannibal to fill in the blank for him.

"You won't trick me into revealing my identity so easily," the cannibal replied, a warbled laugh making its way through the voice changer.

"I just simply wish to know your name," Sherlock replied, folding his hands in front of his chest.. "For personal reasons."

"Personal reasons, of course."

"Yes, for personal reasons," Sherlock urged. "Now, tell me, mister..."

"Not mister," the Clarence House Cannibal corrected. "Doctor."

"Doctor?" Sherlock echoed. His mind began to spin as he started to think up possible explanations, how this could all make sense. He already started to decide on several of his ideas as more likely than others, but the cannibal wasn't complete yet.

"Yes, doctor. Doctor Magnussen."

A/N Well, isn't this just exciting! Ah, yes, I have finally gotten around to posting the first chapter. I am ecstatic about the ideas I have for this story and can't wait to share them all with you. I hope that you enjoyed this beginning chapter...there's more coming in a week!