N/A: What if Sherlock had gotten the passcode wrong? Just a random crack idea I had, lol. I don't own Sherlock and its characters, and the idea's just there if anybody cared to think it. Read & Review, please and thank you~
Sherlock tapped at the phone triumphantly, feeling like the night had finally turned up for him.
After typing in the passcode, he flipped the phone around and smirked, ready to deliver his victory speech, when that notorious woman began laughing!
He flipped back the phone in confusion and stared at the phone in horror, as it started beeping. The screen now read: "Deleting data…"
Mycroft seemed stunned, unable to even twitch. Sherlock wasn't even sure he was breathing.
"No- no!" Sherlock shouted, furiously punching buttons on the phone, but it continued beeping serenely, as though mocking his failure. "It can't be- I took your pulse! You're obsessed with me!"
"Stop- stop…" Irene gasped between barks of laughter. It was eerily creepy.
The stupid passcode was supposed to let him regain his lost dignity and pride, not lose whatever of it remained! He groaned in frustration, and Mycroft seemed to snap out of his horrified daze.
"You idiot! We needed that information!" he screamed, and Sherlock winced, his ears screaming for help.
"Give me that!" he screamed again, grabbing at the phone and having his turn at punching in buttons desperately.
Sherlock despaired. This would not do at all for his reputation.
"You!" he barked at Irene, who was still rolling on the floor laughing creepily. "Cancel this!" he said desperately, but she just continued rolling on the floor. Sherlock wrinkled his nose at the thought of her contaminating his carpet.
Suddenly, someone tapped on the door and Mrs Hudson entered, holding a tray of cups. "Anyone want tea?" she asked cheerily.
The three of them stared at her (Irene even stopped cackling!), and she coughed awkwardly. "Well, if you're going to be like that," she muttered before backing out of the door and going back to her kitchen.
Sherlock seized the silence and thought hard, when an idea hit his head. Figuratively, of course, or he would've received a concussion. He gasped in horror, and almost wished he hadn't thought of it.
"No- you didn't! Irene Adler, tell me you didn't," he demanded, eerily alike a horrified schoolboy.
"I didn't what?" she cackled, looking up at him with an evil grin.
"It's not- it's not 1234, is it?" he asked, praying silently it wasn't. How did he not think of that?
"Finally got it, huh?" she screamed with laughter. Seriously, this was just adding insult to injury.
Mrs Hudson stopped halfway through her tea downstairs, wondering if she should call the psychiatric hospital for that woman.
She finally decided that if she was going to call the psychiatric hospital, she should've done it months ago when Sherlock moved in, and continued sipping her tea serenely.
Upstairs, Sherlock was hitting his head against the wall while miraculously not having a concussion, Irene was laughing at her spot on the floor, and Mycroft was groaning at the thought of calling Buckingham Palace with this news.
Sherlock abruptly ceased self-inflicting head injury and sat crossed-legged on the floor, taking a deep breath.
He was going to need to rethink this situation.
Hey, it's listed under parody and humor for a reason. P: