Sherlock –MH

Fantastic. Sherlock groaned internally. Wishing Mycroft would just give up. His brother had been attempting to contact him through various means for the past hour. His agents were tiring and so was Sherlock's finely-tuned patience. With an inaudible sigh, the consulting detective reached into the pocket of his ever-present coat and removed his mobile. It didn't look like the silent treatment was working.

What do you want this time, Mycroft? – SH

John would be proud at his attempt at civility. He thought. A smile almost gracing his sharp features. Almost. He caught the quirking of his lips just in time to hear the incessant beeping of his phone, signaling a new text. Regret and Annoyance were instantaneous. Maybe he should have kept ignoring him.

To demand an explanation. Why are you refusing to answer your phone? –MH

Oh, that old drivel. Sherlock stood, placing the scalpel he had previously held in his hand gently on the covered surface of the kitchen table. He'd finish the dissection later.

I'm working on an experiment here, Mycroft; and it requires my full concentration. Now, if you don't mind I'd like to get back to it. – SH

His civil attitude was slipping. Fine eyebrows furrowed together in the centre of a slender brow. Mycroft always knew how to annoy him. Years of practice, he assumed. Although that didn't make it right. The man mused. He may have to practice patience some more himself in order to combat his sibling.

Bing!

Yes, he definitely needed to practice some more.

Ah, I see. That would explain why you're far too busy to pick up your phone. Or answer the door. –MH

Dryly, the detective stood there. Expecting more. It came surprisingly quickly, he mused as another Bing! Assaulted his ears.

And yet, funnily enough, it doesn't explain why you quite purposefully gave my agent the finger as you, rather petulantly I insist on adding, closed the curtains on their attempts to reach you –MH

Completely untrue. He'd never sink that low. Offended, Sherlock narrowed his cold blue eyes as he debated answering at all. Unwittingly his gaze swept over to the curtains in question. His brother's agents have never liked him anyway, probably due to the little 'welcome' he gave them last time they helped Mycroft break into his flat. Giving in, thin fingers began to push small buttons, with perhaps more pressure than strictly necessary.

I'm offended that you would think so lowly of me, Mycroft. I have better things to do with my time than to antagonize your employees. Perhaps you should have them receive compulsory sight checks to save yourself such embarrassing moments as this, in the future –SH

He had barely pressed send before a sharp reply came flying back at him.

Oh don't give me that Sherlock. I may not have been there but my agents report everything and they do not lie –MH

Annoying. His teeth slid sharply against each other as his lips pursed.

Everybody lies –SH

Mycroft was the one who taught him that after all, so why should his men be an exception? The damn hypocrite.

They don't lie to me –MH

Blue rolled dramatically within white. Mycroft was being uncharacteristically stubborn today. Maybe he was stressed. Oh, Sherlock definitely hoped so. He deserved it for the hours of harassment he had been suffering at the hands of his elder sibling – who just refused to take a hint. "Time to end this" the tall figure mumbled, his face settling into an expression of stone.

As I've said previously: I'm too busy to cater to your every whim and fancy. So, if you would please refrain from distracting me so we may both continue blissfully ignoring one another's existence, I would be quite grateful. – SH

Expecting that to be the end of it, he carelessly let the phone glide from his hand and plummet amongst the rubbish littering his couch. However, a mere three steps had been taken before he was called back with muttered swears.

I wouldn't have to go to such extremes if you'd only answer my calls –MH

A second later and another text flew in, no doubt to add to the pile of misery already encroaching upon his day.

What I have to say is more important than your little games, brother. –MH

Sherlock sighed, knowing Mycroft wouldn't stop before he gave in and called him. Reluctantly he dialed his brother's private number. Hoping, rather childishly, that his phone would somehow combust and spare him this indignity. The tone picked up and he wasted no time claiming the first word "What's the matter, Mycroft? Misplace the FBI?"

Mycroft stifled his grumbles as he heard the grating voice of his darling younger brother "No" he growled, although the rumbling was hard to hear underneath the quiet pace he spoke with. "Now was this so hard?" he snapped, ignoring Sherlock's sputtered attempts at a reply as he cut in. "Speaking is much quicker than texting" he explained "and much more... discreet" Mycroft let the sentence drawl, hoping to catch his siblings interest.

It worked. Although Sherlock would never care to admit his intrigue. "Care to explain further or do you enjoy wasting my time?" the dry tone to his voice scathing.

It worked, his teeth grated against one another as he forced himself to relax. It wouldn't do for Sherlock to gain an advantage. It wouldn't do at all. "This is a case of the utmost importance" he stated "The integrity of the British Government lies solely on the retrieval of a... specific object." Mycroft took a breath, allowing Sherlock the chance to speak, but he heard nothing and so continued "I'm afraid I can't tell you anymore until you've accepted the case. But believe me, Sherlock, you will want to take it"

Sherlock waited, listening to the forever-irritating sound of his brothers voice as he soaked up every ounce of information greedily. He wasn't satisfied. He wanted more. "Fine" he hissed "Tell me all that you know and I'll accept your case." No bargaining. Just facts.

"Excellent" the word sounded airy, like a release of tense breath but Mycroft covered it up with a well-time cough. "This... object was stolen from my desk at 12:13 this afternoon. I had only stepped out of my office for a moment, if you would like the specific details then I would estimate 6 minutes. The thief left no traces, so I'd say we're dealing with an expert. Perhaps they've done this before." His words were becoming quicker in their hurry to be heard; it seemed as if Mycroft was panicking. But of course, that was just ludicrous. "There is no clue as to where the criminal or the object was taken. No suspects. No camera images either as our surveillance did not detect anything, it seems the images have been removed" Okay, Mycroft was panicking.

"Sherlock..." he whispered.

The detective grew tense. This was new. Strange. Intriguing.

Worrisome.

"Sherlock… Sherlock, they took my cake" and with that Mycroft promptly burst into tears.

I was trying to be serious, really I was. I wanted to explore their relationship and see how far I could take their characters. But then it became so dull and I couldn't stop myself.

I hope you enjoy it regardless!