In which her and Sherlock's trip to the office wasn't what she expected, but what Mycroft Holmes had always wanted.
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Sherlock, although the plot and ofc are both my original ideas.
"So are you going to give me his files or will I have to remove them from the archives myself," Sherlock asked frowning deeply at his brother from across the room. You saw now what Sherlock had meant when he said that the information that you needed wasn't 'easily obtainable'. The detective was sure that your presence would make this easier. You weren't exactly sharing the same sense of optimism. Perhaps Sherlock knew something you didn't. You doubted it.
"You know those are top security files, Sherlock," Mycroft quipped. "Certainly not something we hand out to amateurs." He smiled unpleasantly. Sherlock glared. Sensing danger, you decided to speak up before Mycroft called security to have Sherlock forcibly removed from the building…again. "I assure you," you stated, staring into Mycroft's unfaltering gaze, "I am quite experienced." To your surprise, Mycroft blushed deeply. Realization slowly set in. Oh…OH.
You smirked. "Something the matter, Mycroft?" you inquired playfully. "No, no. Not at all," Mycroft replied, nervously adjusting his tie. Sherlock chuckled, clearly amused at his brother's predicament. "Are you sure, Mycroft? You look rather red in the face," Sherlock asked, smiling maliciously. "Y/n's a doctor. I'm sure she could…check you over." Well, you thought to yourself, this was getting rather interesting indeed.
Mycroft spluttered. "I told you, brother dear, there is absolutely nothing the matter with me." "Your incredibly increased heart rate and your inability to speak say otherwise," Sherlock stated matter-of-factly. Mycroft glared at his younger brother. "Sherlock," he hissed angrily, "change the subject. NOW." "Of course," Sherlock replied. "Medicine…interesting but never my favorite subject. Not nearly as much as…chemistry." Mycroft, looking defeated, slumped further down into his chair. "Sherlock, please!" he begged. "Just leave me be!" "Sherlock," you whispered, beginning to feel guilty about teasing Mycroft. "That's enough."
You turned to address a now miserable looking Mycroft. "We came here to request information…so I'd like to ask you one final question. Just one, and then we'll leave if you like." Mycroft nodded sadly, clearly too tired to protest. "How does dinner this Friday sound?" Mycroft's eyes snapped up to meet your gaze. "What?" he asked, clearly confused at your words." "Dinner," you repeated. "This Friday…With me." Mycroft was speechless.
You smiled broadly…then Sherlock opened his mouth. "God above, we finally found someone that can shut him up." You slapped the detective roughly on the shoulder. He smirked. "Does that mean you want me to cancel your reservation?" "What reservation," you asked, for once not understanding what your friend was up to. "The dinner reservation that I made at Alain Ducasse's this Friday night…would you like me to cancel?" Your jaw dropped. "Sherlock!" you gasped. "That's the most expensive restaurant in London. How did you pay for it?!" The detective's smile widened. "I didn't," he stated gleefully. "Mycroft did." "Sherlock…" Mycroft growled. The younger Holmes continued to grin wildly despite his brother's disapproval.
"What?" he asked innocently. The playful look then disappeared, replaced with one of complete seriousness. "Is she not worth it?" At this, you looked curiously at Mycroft, waiting for his response. "Of course she is," he said, barely hesitating. Sherlock folded his hands in his lap. "Then I suppose she is also worth the limousine ride and evening opera tickets that I also purchased," Sherlock said pompously. You burst out laughing as Mycroft rolled his eyes. Although you couldn't wait until Friday, your love life was not the reason you had come here, you remembered suddenly. "Sherlock," you inquired, "what about the files?" Sherlock turned to look at you, mischief in his eyes… "What files?"