A/N: Happy New Year! Well, Happy New Season of Sherlock! I hope you all enjoyed "The Empty Hearse." I sure did; it was hilarious and so very clever. I was on the edge of my chair the entire time...in fact, I think this one is the best episode so far. Anyways, here's a final warning: there are spoilers in this story! (However, they aren't major compared to the other things in the plot of the episode.) This is your last chance to turn back and watch the new episode before coming back to read this!

1. Mummy and Daddy

"Mummy, Daddy! Mycroft won't play with me! He says that he's too busy with schoolwork and that games are too childish for him!" Sherlock pouted as he ran towards his parents, holding a tell-tale yellow box. They sighed but smiled indulgently, for their youngest son loved playing Operation. Because he had very good hand-eye coordination and focus, he was extremely good at it.

"Sherlock, you know that Mummy and Daddy aren't even close to being as good as you are," said Mummy Holmes. "Are you sure you still want to play with us?"

Sherlock nodded, dark curls bouncing up and down. Daddy Holmes ruffled his son's hair. The three of them proceeded to spend the afternoon bent over the yellow box, giggling cheerfully at attempts to pick out little plastic body parts from the poor man's body, even though Sherlock's parents were the ones that kept making the buzzer sound.

Sherlock didn't mind at all.

2. Greg Lestrade

Sherlock Holmes had just been released from rehab for his cocaine addiction. Although he didn't have any relation to that brilliant young man, Greg couldn't help but feel worried about him, so the policeman decided to drop by Sherlock's flat.

When Greg was let in by Mrs. Hudson, he saw Sherlock sprawled in a chair at the table near the windows, in his pajamas, fiddling with tweezers and a few small bits of plastic.

"Hi Sherlock, I just wanted to check up on you and see if you were—wait, is that Operation?"

Sherlock nodded. "Astute observation, Lestrade. Do you have a case for me? It's been two hours since my last case, and it is absolutely boring right now."

Greg walked over to the table and sat down across from the young man. "I loved Operation as a child! I got it on my sixth birthday, and played it a lot with my family. I was the best among my friends and family!"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Then would you care for a match?"

"Oh, you're on."

That afternoon, Greg Lestrade, Detective Inspector of the New Scotland Yard, was beaten soundly by Sherlock Holmes.

3. Mrs. Hudson

It was a boring day; there was no pressing case to solve, no one was in the mood for committing a nice and juicy crime, and there was absolutelynothing to do.

"Yoohoo, Sherlock, I bought some groceries for you. Oh, the mess in this kitchen! Why don't you do something about it?" Mrs. Hudson tottered into the flat, Tesco bags hanging from both arms.

"Bored."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"BORED!" Sherlock exclaimed. "Bored, bored, bored! No murders, blackmails, anything! What is wrong with people right now? Why are they being such obedient, law-abiding citizens!?"

Mrs. Hudson just smiled indulgently at her dear tenant's behavior. "Don't worry, Sherlock. I'm sure something will come up soon. Just give it a bit more time. Why don't you do something fun in the meantime?"

Sherlock scanned the room, his eyes landing on the half-buried yellow box on the table. "Mrs. Hudson, would you care for a game of Operation?"

Mrs. Hudson thought for a minute, then shook her head. "Sorry Sherlock, I would love to play with you! But my hands tend to tremble a bit—my age, you know—so I wouldn't be very good of a distraction from your boredom."

"Just one game?" Sherlock schooled his face into an adorable pout; surely Mrs. Hudson would immediately be swayed by it.

Mrs. Hudson sighed and reluctantly agreed. While they were playing (her hand, of course, trembled slightly), the elderly lady wondered how it was possible for someone as old as Sherlock to look so…disarmingly cute.

4. James Moriarty

When Jim Moriarty visited 221B Baker Street, he followed a carefully planned-out act, wanting to make sure that Sherlock would do what he wanted the consulting detective to do—like a puppeteer controlling a strung-up doll. Sherlock could be more brilliant than the lowly humans around him, but he would always be ordinary compared to James Moriarty. However, there was one thing the consulting criminal was not able to predict about the meeting.

Sherlock put his teacup down onto the tea tray. "Would you care to discuss this over a game of Operation?"

Jim was utterly surprised; he had no idea that was going to happen. To hide his astonishment, he quickly closed his mouth, giggled, and crooned, "Oh Sherlock, don't be childish. Operation, really? Sorry for you, dear Sherly, but I have better things to do, including putting the finishing touches on my own operation. Now, where were we? Oh yes…" Moriarty picked up his apple and knife once more.

Maybe Sherlock Holmes wasn't as ordinary as he thought. But only time would tell.

Back to work.

5. Mycroft Holmes

At this moment, Mycroft Holmes, a 'minor position-holder' in the British government, and Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective, were discussing a serious matter: a highly probable terrorist attack on London. They were both bent slightly forward, talking about the pressing issue over…a game of Operation.

"I'm on the case. We're both on the case. Look at this right now," Sherlock said as Mycroft made his move, trying to extract the anatomically incorrect heart out of the hole.

Bzz-bzzt.

"Oh, bugger," Mycroft groaned.

Sherlock leaned back in his armchair. "Oopsie. Can't have a broken heart, how very telling."

Mycroft glared at him, the angle of his face making him look like a ferocious hawk. "Don't be smart."

"That takes me back." In a high-pitched voice, the consulting detective mocked, "Don't be smart, Sherlock. I'm the smart one."

"I am the smart one."

"I used to think I was an idiot."

The elder Holmes brother shifted to make himself more comfortable. He fell back into his usual, disgustingly smug demeanor. "Both of us thought you were an idiot, Sherlock. We had nothing else to go on till we met other children."

"Oh yes, that was a mistake."

"Ghastly."

However brilliant and sassy the two, ahem, mature men were, playing Operation with Mycroft was always stupid and predictable; Sherlock would win every time, and they both knew it.

+1 John

Sherlock and John were on the sofa, eating Chinese takeout and watching crap telly. That day had been a very exciting one; they had solved two fairly invigorating cases and were now relaxing. However, there was only so much horrendous and inane "entertainment" Sherlock could stomach. The consulting detective snatched up the remote and jammed the power button.

"Hey, Sherlock! We were about to see who the stalker was!"

Sherlock huffed. "Obvious, it was the baker from the pastry shop around the corner from that woman's apartment! Don't ask how, I don't feel like explaining. Tonight's telly is even crappier than usual. Instead, why don't we play a game?"

John sighed and put down his carton of food. "We all know how Cluedo went last time. What else do you have?"

Sherlock's gaze dropped down to his flat mate's hands. Steady as ever…a crooked grin appeared on the consulting detective's face and widened as he asked, "How about Operation?"

John laughed as Sherlock bounded away to fetch the worn-out but beloved yellow box from the bookshelf, where it was hidden. "You've got to be joking. Operation? I didn't even know you had that game…Ha…Is this how you got into collecting body parts?"

"Very funny, John. Now, a competition to see who has the steadiest hands!" Sherlock called over his shoulder. He leapt back to place the box onto the table and beckoned John to join him. John smiled indulgently (it was one of his best smiles, in Sherlock's opinion) and joined his flat mate.

"I haven't played this in such a long time; I think the last time was at a party in uni where we all tried to play while drunk. But I accept your challenge. Let's play Operation."

Sherlock and John played late into the night. Sherlock was perfect as ever, but John was also quite the formidable opponent with his steady surgeon hands. In three hours, the buzzer had gone off not even once. Finally, Sherlock Holmes had met his match. Such a seemingly ordinary—yet extraordinary in his own right—man could be the equivalent of the great consulting detective.

Sherlock would never admit it, but that amazing fact caused a warm and buzzing feeling to arise inside of him, centering around his heart.

When Mrs. Hudson opened the door to her boys' flat, she was about to announce her arrival and that she had brought pastries she had baked that afternoon when she saw the two men, who were completely focused over a familiar yellow box. The landlady smiled at the adorable sight. She placed the container of goodies on the armchair near the doorway and slipped out as quietly as she could, closing the door behind her.