AU which was written with the Indian Jones trilogy, The Mummy and the amazing novels written by Elizabeth Peters in mind. (I highly recommend reading them.)

Rotating POV

This is a 1920s Egyptian Archeologist AU. I would recommend checking out google images for some pictures to get you into the mood.

If you see any glaring mistakes about grammar or history, please let me know.

"They're what?!" It had been twenty years since John Watson had had a temper tantrum but at the last words of the museum's main curator he was damn close to having one.

"Keep your voice down." Lestrade released a long sigh as his hand covered his face; it was the posture of a man who was completely over everything life had to throw him. "I don't want the others to know, at least not yet."

"Why are they coming here?" John hissed through clinched teeth. He had been working at the Holmes Antiquities for over four years; right after he had been shot in the left shoulder and discharged from the army. It was quiet work and no one ever bothered him- till now.

"They want to examine the headpiece that was discovered."

"THA-" At the distressed look in Lestrade's eyes, John lowered his tone to an angry whisper. "That is mine. I was given permission to work on it. That headpiece is mine." John's fists were clenched at his sides and he longed for something to throw.

"Well, the museum is the Holmes' property, I'm afraid. And that includes all artifacts uncovered by their employees. You realize this could be the find of the century and so do they."

"So why can't they send someone from the field? Someone who isn't accustomed to sitting on their posh arse all day? Hum?" John jaw hurt from how hard he was trying not to raise his voice again.

Lestrade decked his fingers through his gray hair. "His brother, Sherlock is his name, he's renowned for his ability to examine an artifact and tell if it's a fake or not. Mr. Holmes wants him to examine it."

John nearly lost it all over again. "What? Mr. Holmes doesn't even trust his own employees? He hired me! He should be able to trust my opinion!"

"Sheesh!" Lestrade hushed the angry man. "John, get ahold of yourself. We'll deal with it. We will act like competent polite employees. Answer all questions and then calmly escort them out when they're done. And then we will proceed as we always have. Understood?"

John rolled his eyes in reply.

John blinked his eyes heavily. He had stayed up all night trying to unravel the mystery of the headpiece but he was still no closer than where he had started. John took another sip of coffee. It was his- what? Ninth, tenth cup? John sighed when he swallowed the last of the black liquid. Even though it tasted like tar it still managed to keep him awake.

At the sound of a knock, John turned his head to Lestrade walking though the door. The curator's eyes widened in surprise. "John, what are you doing here so early? Did you even go home?"

John shook his head. "I was trying to figure out this damn thing before they showed up." He angry gestured at the headpiece on the table in front of him.

It was a Hemhem crown- that much was obvious. Other than that, John couldn't figure out where it had originated or who might have owned it. There had been a famous one that had once adorned the head of Rameses II. He just couldn't tell! There had been crafting techniques that had changed over the years and John didn't know all the specifics. It was an impossible to know them all!

"The damn library here doesn't have the books I need!" John pinched the bridge of his nose, lifting up his glasses as he rubbed his eyes. God, I need sleep!

Lestrade opened his mouth to answer, when a knock stopped him mid-breath. Both men turned to see a tall gentlemen with red hair and a tailored suit. John knew instantly who it was.

Before John could say something foolish, Lestrade crossed the small room to shake the hands with him. "Mr. Holmes, I presume?"

The red-headed man took the outstretched arm and shook it. "Yes, you would be correct."

"I'm Gregory Lestrade, the main curator here and this would be Doctor John Watson." Lestrade tilted his head back at the sitting man. John rose to shake hands with his employer. He could barely keep the frown off of his face. Posh.

"Ah, yes. Pleasure." From his tone, John couldn't tell if the man meant it or not. "So, gentlemen, how are things progressing with the headpiece?" Mycroft swept between them and over to the table.

"I regret to say it, but despite John's best efforts we still cannot verify if it was owned by Ramses II or not." Lestrade made his way to the other side of the table. "However I have full faith in his ability to-"

A gasp and then a sob erupted from the library, followed by a crash. All three men turned to the sound. Mycroft pursed his lips like he had just bit into a lemon. "Sherlock."

"What has he done to Molly?" Fearing that the man had taken sexual advantage of their liberian and secretary, John ran from the room ready to defend her honor. John entered the library to see Molly sobbing, her hands covering her face and Mike sputtering red faced at the other man in the room.

"What the hell is going on here?" John strode over to the man, grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

"What-" The words died on John's lips when he caught sight of deep gray blue eyes. Or were they green? Yellow? Colors swirled before him and John swayed; his lack of sleep finally catching up with him.

The other man put his hand on John's arm to steady him. He gave John an odd look as he raised an eyebrow.

"Well, well, Sherlock. You could have at least waited until we did formal introductions before you alienated everyone." Mycroft gave his brother a hard look.

John removed his hand from Sherlock's shoulder. He blinked, trying to remove the hazy from his vision. "What did you say to her? So help me, if you laid a finger on her!"

"Stop making a fool of yourself."

"Excuse me?" John asked incredulously.

"You heard me. I have no interest in the likes of her. I merely told her that she had the library in complete disarray." Sherlock crossed his arms and looked defiantly at John.

Mike stepped forward. "And then he started throwing books off the shelves!"

"Sherlock, you cannot just go about doing this. Remember?" Mycroft looked at Sherlock like a disappointed father.

"Fine! You want the library to be completely categorized wrong? Have it your way." Sherlock's cheeks flushed with rage.

Lestrade took a step forward. Trying to defuse the situation he said, "Um, I'm sure there was no harm intended. Molly can be a little sentimental over her books. Mr. Sherlock Holmes, right? It's a pleasure. I'm Gregory Lestrade."

Lestrade held out his hand. After a long moment, Sherlock shook it once and quickly released it. "Charmed." Like his brother, Sherlock sounded like anything but that. The Holmes brothers lacked the ability to sound sincere at all.

"And this is Doctor John Watson." Lestrade gestured at John.

Despite his desire not to, John's hand shot out for a handshake out of habit. When Sherlock took it, John squeezed a little harder than necessary. Sherlock didn't flinch at the extra pressure and instead answered with his own. Oh, that's the way its going to be, is it?

At the feel of his hand, John knew that Sherlock had never worked a hard day of labour in his life. The posh brat's hands were as smooth a woman's lace glove. Not a single scar or blemish could be found on his porcelain skin. John held in a snort. He probably can't even brew tea for himself. He's suppose to be the great artifact's expert? Please! He hardly looks older than nineteen. John refused to be beaten by a teenager.

"John, I believe that you are the one examining the headpiece in question. Although you are doing it rather poorly." It was spoken with a complete disregard for respect and John wanted to punch the brat in the face.

"Holmes, while I do understand that I am an employee of your family, I will be addressed with the proper title. Either Captain or Doctor Watson will do." John bore his eyes into the younger man.

"Stop being so common." With that Sherlock made his way to the examination room. A trail of people following after him.

"It's a fake. Obviously." Sherlock had barely passed a glance at the headpiece before declaring it a fake.

John grit his teeth. "And how in the world would you know that?" He was tempted to add, Have you ever even seen a real Egyptian headpiece?

Sherlock grabbed a pencil and used to point at the Hemhem crown. "If you look here. At that chisel mark, it's obviously been made with a modern lettering stroke. Completely worthless."

John stared down at the mark Sherlock had indicated. It was a chisel mark, as plain as the nose on his face. John wanted to swear and stomp out of the room. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment and the room grew uncomfortably hot.

John turned to Sherlock, who had a self-satisfied smirk on his face. John wanted to wring his neck. Still, a small voice at the back of John's mind admired how he had seen the mark so easily.

"Extraordinary." The word was out before he could stop it. John swallowed hard.

It was almost comical, the look of shock on everyone's faces; it had obviously been the last comment they had expected to hear from John. He was sure that the same shocked expression was reflected on his own face. That had certainly not been the word he had been looking for.

"Really?" Sherlock's voice was barely above a whisper. His eyes were wide and there was a look of anticipation on his face.

"Yes, that was quite extraordinary."

Sherlock's face cracked into a wide toothed smile. He looked as if the teacher had just called him his prize pupil. John had no idea what to make of the situation and hoped someone else would speak up before he could make an even bigger fool of himself.

"Now I've heard everything."

The bubble of bliss was popped and Sherlock's expression soured at the words of distain from his brother. Mycroft poked the headpiece with his umbrella. "Well, now that that's settled. I would like to go over your files, Mr. Lestrade."

Mycroft offered them all a curt nod as he and Lestrade left the room. Lestrade shot John an apologetic look as he followed his boss out of the room.

John turned his head to Molly. She was still sniffling and John's rage came back to the surface. "You still haven't apologized to Molly for what you did earlier."

Molly flirted her head from side to side. "Oh, no, he doesn't need to apologize. He just shocked me that was all. I'm sure the ancient history of Jordan section was all out of order. I haven't rechecked it in at least a month."

Mike stared at Sherlock but didn't open his mouth. However John was sure if looks could kill then Sherlock would be an ash pile on the floor. Whether it was in his best interests or not, John wasn't satisfied with just giving the boy the evil eye.

"No, listen here. You are to treat your elders with the respect that they deserve." John's voice was hard.

"I see no one here worthy of my respect." Sherlock cocked his head up and glowered down at them. "I turned twenty this year and I am no longer a child."

John couldn't contain a harsh laugh. "Twenty, really? You're so scrawny you hardly look over eighteen." It was a lie, but John wanted to knock him down a peg or two.

"This coming from the man who barely reaches my shoulder." Sherlock's lips twisted up into a sarcastic smile.

Before John could tackle him, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He didn't have to turn around to know it was Mike.

"Come now. How about I make some tea and we can put this all behind us?" Mike spoke with a forced cheerfulness.

John took a few steadying breaths. This wasn't how the day was suppose to go! Maybe it would have been better if he had gotten that good night sleep after all. At the mention of tea, John knew that was exactly what he needed in lieu of a ten hour nap.

"I have no time for that." Without a further word or even a good-bye Sherlock walked pass them, exiting the room.

John didn't know if tea could be drunk 'violently' but that was exactly how he was drinking the tea that Mike had offered him. The liquid burned his throat and John welcomed the stinging sensation as tears pooled in his eyes.

"I'm sure he didn't mean to be rude." Molly said. She blushed a pretty pink before she continued. "He had such a strict face-"

"Don't." John held up a hand. "He was an arse. A complete and total spoiled brat. Don't even try and deny it." Even if his knowledge of ancient Egyptian is more than I would have expected.

As Mike and Molly had brewed the tea, John had made his way over to the pile of books on the library floor. His curiosity had gotten the best of him and John had checked to see if Sherlock had been right or not.

He had.

Molly had accidentally placed two books on the same shelf when they should have been a shelf apart. It was such a small mistake, how had the Holmes boy noticed it so quickly? John sighed. He wasn't sure if it was in disgust or resignation.

"John?"

John blinked as Mike called his name again. "Hm?"

"Think we lost you there, chap. I said, now that the Holmeses are gone, do you plan on hitting the hay? You look like you could do with some sleep." Mike took off his glasses and polished one of the lenses with a handkerchief.

"Yeah, you're right. Tell Lestrade will you?" John drained the last of his tea.

He said his good-byes to the others. John grabbed his jacket and put on his hat as he made his way out into Cairo and back to his apartment.