I may expand this at some point, because I have bunnies, but for now:

More than Adequate

Sherlock stepped back to admire his work, and thought it was more than adequate. Not perfect, but it would do.

Trevelyan's face had returned to its normal colour now that he was done being hysterical. Sherlock didn't understand why he was so upset--he'd had to make his own patch, Trevelyan had a whole box of them just there for him to use every day. Why wouldn't he want to wear one?

Granted, it was the wrong colour, but Sherlock had fixed that with a marker pen. It was a non-permenant one, and smelled of liquorice, which he didn't think was very piratey, but there was nothing that said that pirates didn't smell of liquorice, so he decided it was fine.

"If you want to join my crew, I'm the captain, and you have to do what I say," Sherlock informed him.

"I always do that when we play, Sher," Trevelyan said.

"That's because I'm older," Sherlock explained.

"When do I get to be older?" Trevelyan asked.

"Never. Come on, I'll show you my map."