Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock and make no money from this.
The Boredom of Mycroft Holmes
John sighed. Once again Sherlock was being irritating and withholding evidence so of course Lestrade ordered another drugs bust to attempt to 'bully' Sherlock into behaving or, failing that, to attempt to find the missing evidence himself. This was quite a tall order as the DI had no idea what he was looking for and finding anything in 221B Baker Street was practically impossible unless you happened to be one Sherlock Holmes. Unfortunately said detective was being decidedly unhelpful at the moment.
John sighed again but the irritated huff was ignored, drowned out by the cacophony of sound permeating the flat. He was feeling quite justifiably annoyed by the proceedings what with Lestrade's FAKE drugs-bust team messing up his home so it looked less like an ordered mess but more like a warzone- and believe me he knew what a battlefield looked like- not to mention Sherlock's furious insulting of Anderson's IQ and the INFURIATING and CONSTANT racket Sherlock tortured out of his violin. Dr Watson had had a long day at the surgery so, quite understandably, he snapped.
"WILL YOU ALL SHUT UP!?"
There was a shocked silence.
"Thank you" John said in a much more reasonable tone "Now Anderson, put that down…no it is not Sherlock's…"
"Use your eyes, you blithering cretin, are my initials JW? Good boy, now sit quiet and stop thinking; you know that you lower the IQ of the whole city just by existing so let's not allow this disease to spread any further."
"…Thank you Sherlock. I am sure there was no need for that rather cruel comparison of Anderson to a pathogen but it is the thought that counts…I think?"
Over the top of Sherlock's mutterings that it was an insult to pathogens everywhere, John politely enquired what the police were doing in his flat, messing up his things and the rather hysterical undercurrent to his tone made the police give pause.
A wail like a dying cat tore through the strained silence and they all jumped violently before glaring at the skinny player. It sparked another round of shouting and it was due to this uproar that nobody heard the door opening or the swift, rather heavy footsteps on the stairs. Thus they were all rather surprised when a tall, plump man in a grey three piece suit and with a dark black umbrella stormed into the room and threw himself on the sofa beside the shocked violinist.
"I. Am. SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO BORED!"
Mycroft Holmes was not his usual unruffled self; in fact he looked rather dishevelled; as if he had not eaten in days nor slept in even longer, however there was a rather disturbing and manic glint in his eyes. John recognised that look, his Holmes wore it often and it meant: entertain me or I shall start blowing holes in the wall! The problem was, if he was bored, that Mycroft could probably start WWIII or something equally drastic. And that would be a bit Not Good.
A/N, sorry it's a bit short but I totally lost inspiration and finally decied to post it.
Yours
Queen Farli