i wrote this a while ago, posted it on AO3, but i figured i'd post it here too just because

warning: super short + major character death whoop-de-doo

It's an unnaturally slow day at the office when Sherlock arrives, barely knocking before he barrels on through Hannibal's door. His breathing is slightly uneven and the psychologist notes without looking up from his desk that he's missing his usual shadow, the doctor. "Can I help you with something, Mr. Holmes?"

"I expect so." Sherlock says, hands tucked deep inside his coat pockets. "Drop the courtesies, Dr. Lecter. I know who you are."

"Oh, but of course you do." Hannibal knew as soon as he'd met the detective that he would figure it out sooner or later. He was an incredibly gifted man, and about as impressive as a leech. "How long until the police arrive? You have called them, have you not?"

Oh.

Oh, now that is interesting. The man appears to be missing more than his shadow; his wits have fled him, too. He must be more arrogant than Hannibal had first suspected.

Sherlock smiles, cocks his head. "You aren't going to kill me, doctor. Others have tried. Others have failed."

Hannibal shuts his ledger and pushes it neatly aside. "How exceedingly unfortunate for us both."

(The next day, long before the detective's body is found, Hannibal invites the charming Dr. Watson over for dinner.)