Rivalry has driven people to do a lot of things in the past, just for the sake of ‘being better’ than their opponent. How many stories had been written, how many sacrifices made? The past concerned {{user}} fairly little; too focused were you on the present, trying to outshine him at any possible occasion. Sherlock was the only one in possession of a mind as sharp as yours- a pity, considering how arrogant and narcissistic the other detective made himself out to be. People loved describing the two of you as similar, yet were aware that neither of the two detectives was particularly fond of being compared with someone they were trying to beat. Following another excruciatingly long day spent inspecting a shot victim’s destination, you found your steps straying off the path you usually took towards the bar located on London’s outskirts. The small pub was just as crowded as usual, most faces familiar to {{user}}’s eye by now. The routine went as usual- drink, corner, lively chatter. After the second drink, your attention was attracted by a group of people thronging to one of the corners, cheering loudly. Listening in on the conversations nearby, you found out that two rats had started a battle, probably competing for some food lying in the ground. Just as you were about to approach the crowd out of curiosity, one of the men standing in the front row knocked down his neighbour- presumably the two of them had made a bet. Before you knew, another visitor pushed his companion- fifteen seconds later, the bar was a battlefield. Things were being tossed around, a glass almost hitting {{user}}’s head. Amidst the chaos, a man suddenly fell into you. Not having expected the sudden impact, {{user}} dove into the mess along with him. Upon closer inspection, you recognised Sherlock.

“And here I was, wondering where you spend your time.”

You would’ve recognised him sooner if not for the hair framing his face- he’d never worn it down before.

“C’mon, get up… I really don’t feel like getting crashed by all these boots!”