First 15 chapters are now corrected thanks to Zarathustra46. I will reupload the rest when I get through the evil 16th one (ok, it's not evil, I am just exaggerating) and make slight changes, so it can finally be correct. Have a nice reading everyone :)
CHAPTER 1
"You really shouldn't say things like that," said John on their way back home. "One day Anderson will snap and who knows what he will do then."
Sherlock scoffed, "He is so incompetent that I wouldn't be surprised if in his attempt to actually do something, he would just kill himself accidentally. Not that it would be necessarily a bad thing." He sounded almost happy saying that.
John rolled his eyes. "I'm not saying you're not right," he paused, "... well except for the part where you want him to kill himself..."
Sherlock scoffed again. "Please, this was at most a five. It just gives a new meaning to the idiocy of Scotland Yard. Even you caught up with what was going on!"
John raised his eyebrows and shot Sherlock the 'I-am-not-amused' look.
"Oh, you know what I mean!" replied the taller man.
John sighed and decided to change the subject, "Anyway, what do you think I should call my blog entry? I am struggling with the title."
"I am sure you will think of something poetic and absolutely ridiculous in no time, John. I doubt you need my help with that."
"Oh shut up," grumbled John. "I shall call it 'The Consulting Detective's Guide to Dealing with Gratitude' then... oh, it was just precious when you proved she couldn't have anything to do with the murder... and her daughter... I mean, awww, Sherlock!"
"You wouldn't dare!" glared the consulting detective.
"Watch me!" replied John. "And I will describe every single detail!"
They reached Baker Street in the midst of their squabbling, which was stopped short when they needed to pay the cabbie (and really, did he need to look so happy to have them out of his car?).
"Oh for God's sake!" groaned Sherlock. "What now?!"
John turned around, prepared to ask what it was this time, when his eyes fell on a sleek black car parking next to their house. Well, at least that answered it.
"What do you think he wants?" he asked instead.
"What else but to annoy me?" retorted Sherlock and opened the door. "MRS HUD-" he tried to shout but John was quicker, he clamped his hand over his friend's mouth and hissed, "It's almost midnight, Sherlock! Shut up!"
The taller man glared, but complied, assuming that waking up their landlady at this hour was 'a bit not good'.
John waited anxiously for a few moments to see if the ruckus woke Mrs. Hudson up. Thankfully nothing stirred and he finally let go of Sherlock.
"What the hell were you thinking?" he asked as they were climbing up the stairs to their domain.
"I wanted to ask why she thought letting Mycroft in was a good idea," he said, "Oh, I hope that at least he waited for long and was bored out of his mind!" Suddenly he stopped in a mid-step. "John! He was there unsupervised for God knows how long! We must find out what he has done to the flat!" And he took the rest of the stairs running.
"I sincerely doubt it can be worse than whatever you might do," said John and trotted behind his friend.
"Not that!" growled Sherlock. "The bugs! We will never get rid of them!"
"Ooh... right," nodded John. It was not impossible for Mycroft to use the time he spent in the flat to increase his surveillance – actually it was more than probable.
Sherlock banged the door open, probably hoping to catch his brother doing something that would give him the grounds to complain (which, let's admit, it was almost everything his brother ever did) – but Mycroft was just sitting on the chair waiting for them patiently. At the noise he quirked his eyebrow and said dryly, "Brother, have you ever heard of the term 'disturbing the peace'? - It surprisingly can get one in trouble."
"Not even bothering with 'hello', you just skipped to threatening me... Want to set a record?" answered Sherlock and plopped himself into a chair.
John just closed the door and rolled his eyes at their antics. "And he is not even playing the violin yet," he quipped, feeling the need to point out Sherlock's habit to play (read screech) during the night. "Hello, Mycroft."
"John," the older Holmes inclined his head in greeting but didn't take his eyes off Sherlock.
"This is boring. Did you only come to lecture me, Mycroft? I just finished a case, so off you go if you please," said Sherlock in falsely nice voice.
"Ah, yes, the case," nodded Mycroft and to Sherlock's dismay did not move an inch. "It took you a surprisingly long time, brother. I expected you home earlier. Was it so difficult to solve, or were you just... distracted after the actual problem was solved?"
John snickered.
"Shut up," growled Sherlock. "Both of you!" However, neither of them listened.
"You should have been there, Mycroft," said John. "He actually looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him."
Mycroft sighed, "I will forever regret not witnessing it firsthand, but as it is, I shall do with surveillance photos. I hope you don't mind, brother, but I am going to send one of those to Mummy."
"I happen to know a very good Pathologist," threatened Sherlock glaring daggers at his elder brother. "Between the two of us, they will never find your body."
Mycroft just rolled eyes at the childish behaviour.
"So," said John suddenly, "What brought you here? I am guessing it's not only the opportunity to tease your brother."
"An astute deduction, John," replied Mycroft. "That must definitely be Sherlock's influence showing... I have a case for you." He watched his brother carefully for any reaction.
Sherlock stayed impassive. Of course Mycroft would bring some inane matter of the government that needed far more legwork that he was willing to invest... again. Why did John have the need to ask stupid questions like that? "No," he finally answered. "I appreciate your offer Mycroft, but I have enough interesting cases. You may go now." He made a shooing gesture with his hand.
"I think you might want to reconsider that, brother dear," said Mycroft, standing up. "You may find out that the person I will bring here can, let's just say... broaden your horizons. I guarantee that you won't find this case boring at all. I will be back tomorrow. That's when he is supposed to return from his assignment. Goodnight, John... Sherlock. It was a pleasure visiting, as always."
And with those last cryptic sentences he was out of the Baker Street flat.
"Okay..." said John slowly, "what was that?"
Sherlock blinked. Mycroft trying to be enigmatic about a case he is bringing was something new. "I haven't the faintest," he admitted, "but I am intrigued."
"Oh well," shrugged John, "we will see tomorrow. I am going to bed. It was a long day. Night, Sherlock."
Sherlock nodded absentmindedly, already going over the brief meeting with Mycroft in his head, dissecting it to pieces in an attempt to figure out just whom might his brother bring tomorrow.
