"Sherlock!" John hissed beneath his breath, "Sherlock stop!" He leapt forward to snag the edge of the detective's Belstaff coat as the man tumbled through the open window. There was a light thud as he hit the carpet of the house.
John peered around quickly, to ensure nobody was looking, before climbing through the gap after the man. He landed slightly more gratefully than Sherlock but not by much.
The house smelt clean as though it was often aired out to keep it fresh. There was a major minimalist/classic theme running through the house and that included all the furniture. John hadn't even gathered his bearings yet but Sherlock was already searching through the drawers of a dark mahogany desk over by the pale wall.
"Sherlock!" John whispered again, "What are you doing? Where are we?"
"Keep your voice down!" Sherlock scolded in hushed tones.
"What are you even doing?" The doctor pressed.
"John, will you shut up? I've got work to do." The detective's voice rose slightly higher than usual as frustration got to him. He began pushing the papers around in the drawer with more force now as he rushed to find the evidence.
Suddenly, the light flicked on, flooding the room in light. John blinked against the assault on his eyes. The consulting detective even took a step back from the open drawer so it looked less incriminating.
Before his eyes had even adjusted, a familiar voice called out, "Sherlock? John? What the-"
"Lestrade?!" Sherlock cried out in shock, "What on earth are you doing in Mycroft's house?!"
Confused, John asked, "We're in your brother's house?"
"Yes, John, don't be obvious. But the question we should be asking is, why is Lestrade in my brother's house?" Sherlock obviously knew as disgust coloured his tone. It suddenly clicked with John and he peered over at the pyjama clad police officer in confusion.
"Greg, come back to bed." Mycroft walked around the door and into the room with everyone in it casually, "John, I thought that you were going to be a good influence on my brother; I'm disappointed. Sherlock, the file you're looking for is in the third drawer down. Just please return it by Friday... And use the front door next time." Mycroft began leading Greg back upstairs when he called over his shoulder, "And lock the window back up when you leave, brother."
There was a silence between John and Sherlock as they stared at the empty spot where the men had stood. It took them both a moment to process what had just happened.
"We're robbing your own brother's house?" John didn't bother quieting his voice as they knew the homeowner was wake.
"After that?! You're asking me that question after what we just witnessed?!" Sherlock cried before huffing under his breath, "Unbelievable."
The detective slipped open the drawer and pulled out the file he required. Sometimes it shocked John how much their sibling rivalry made everything significantly more difficult than necessary. Sherlock could have merely asked for the file.
Before they leapt back out of the window, Sherlock sprinted around the room, grabbing ornaments and swapping their places. For a person like Mycroft, that'd be the ultimate nightmare.
At least now they had both John and Greg as Holmes peacekeepers!