Sherlock the Magician

"Sherlock..." Mycroft felt the rare urge to demand.

Sherlock poked his head through the doorway into the sitting room at Baker Street. "What is it now, Mycroft?" he grumbled.

Mycroft leaned his bodyweight toward his younger brother but kept wary watch on something on the other side of the room. "Why is there a silk top hat sitting in you chair?"

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders innocently in a way that Mycroft knew to mean that he had everything to do with its presence here. "Don't actually know the answer to that one, why do you ask?"

Mycroft blinked at Sherlock, briefly wondering where the younger Holmes's talent for observation had disappeared to. "Maybe, because there's a rabbit shuffling inside it, eating what was left of your lunch's leafy vegetables."

John had just trudged down from his room just in time to hear the end of the sentence. He turned accusing eyes to his flatmate. "Sherlock..." Sherlock shrugged his shoulders with all the sheepishness of a young boy caught red-handed.

"It's for a case! I'll give the rodent back to its owner before his act starts, don't worry!" Sherlock assured him.

"Not the point." The ex-military doctor glared with all the authority of his rank. "You promised to eat your vegetables. You're running low on vitamins and minerals!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes with a grimace. "But they're... yucky!"

"'Distasteful', please, Sherlock." Mycroft sighed. "You can act like a six-year-old, but that gives you no right to talk like one."

"You sound like my mother!" Sherlock gasped in mock-horror.

"You were raised by that mother, Sherlock. Pity your observational skills developed only after you moved to bording school." Mycroft tsked at him pompously. "Adolescent influences..."

"John, why is Mycroft even here?" Sherlock moaned to his flatemate. John just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. "Well get him out!"

John sent a disapproving look at the stolen magician's hat and its unfortunate contents. "You're the magician, Sherlock." He smiled at Sherlock. "You can... mysteriously make your unwanted vegetables disappear, make him disappear."

Sherlock frowned at Mycroft, who met his gaze with a scolding look. "I'd like to see you try."

"That is," John interrupted abruptly. "after you return the rabbit."

"But it's cute, don't you think?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows and smiled at him.

John groaned and shook his head. "Whatever you say, Sherlock, we're not keeping it."

Lestrade arrived onto the scene just a moment later with a smile of amusement plastered on his face. "Oddest case I stumbled on a few minutes ago..." All eyes turned to him. "The magician who's performing at the theatre just down the road is complaining about his hat and rabbit disappearing." He raised his eyebrow reproachfully at Sherlock. "Thought it'd be right up your street."

All eyes then turned to the silk top hat sitting on Sherlock's seat and its innocent resident peacefully nibbling vegetables inside. "Now," Mycroft said in mock-wonder. "how did that get there?"

Sherlock raced over, scooped all evidence of his minor crime up and bundled it carefully into Lestrade's awaiting arms. "Ta-da! I've conjured up a rabbit, complete with a hat!" Then, taking the chuckling DI by the shoulder, guided him out of the flat, throwing Mycroft out with him. "Now out!"

He slammed the door behind them and locked it securely. With a sigh or relief, he turned, leaning back against the door only to find John still looking peeved, arms crossed. An awkward beat...

"Ta-da! Now you see them... now you don't!"

John merely narrowed his eyes, unamused.

Sherlock threw his hands up in frustration. "Alright! I'll eat the bloody vegetables!"

The End