Hello everyone! This is my first time writing a Sherlock fic so I apologise for any mistakes~ Also I am a Canadian so I will be using colour instead of color etc.
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or Hetalia. They wouldn't be nearly as amazing if I did.
"Mycroft I am not babysitting government officials for you."
John sighed as he ascended the steps to 221b Baker street. Mycroft was here, meaning Sherlock would sulk for at least four hours. And it didn't seem like the criminal classes were up to anything exciting. John had hid the firearms, but he doubt it would stop his moody flat mate from shooting poor Mrs. Hudson's walls. And since someone had finally moved into 221c, that wasn't really a good idea. He finally reached the door and pushed it open with a sigh. Sure enough there was Mycroft, facing opposite Sherlock. The two were having a staring contest by the looks of it and it seemed best to just go make tea. Trying to be polite John decided to make Mycroft a cup as well. Realising that he wasn't sure what to put in it he poked his head into the living room. "I'm making tea Mycroft what would you like in... yours... uh..." the two were still staring at each other. It might have been the longest Sherlock ever sat still. "Right then, plain it is," he muttered. As he brought the tray out to the warring brothers he decided to break the silence himself. "So, Mycroft, to what to we owe the pleasure this time?" Sherlock snorted at that and abruptly stood up. Moments later an unpleasant set of violin scales wafted through the flat. It was Mycroft's turn to sigh. "It's Moriarty. He seems to have taken a certain... interest in someone who works with me. I simply wondered if Sherlock would be willing to look out for him and investigate a bit further." John wondered for a moment why Sherlock wouldn't take the case when he realised, "It would involve him living somewhere else for a while wouldn't it?" Mycroft nodded and Sherlock snorted from across the room. "It's simple. You said he worked with you. With not for, so he is obviously of some important. His death or kidnapping would result in slight chaos and Moriarty was bored. Don't tell me his position is a secret because as it has already been demonstrated Moriarty can find out anything. Besides, I fail to see how I need to go look after him when you have the police force at your disposal," he finished, resuming his playing. If it could even be called that. Mycroft threw his hands up in surrender. "John, maybe you could talk some sense into him." and he left with Sherlock glaring after him. Once he was gone John turned to Sherlock and said, "You do realise you just turned down bothering you brother to no end right? " Sherlock looked puzzled by this. "And how is that?"
"Well," John said. "We'd most likely be going to a hotel. That he would pay for. You could ask for anything you wanted and he'd have to do it." "True..." Sherlock said uncertainly. "Actually yes, that sounds wonderful." A smile had already begun to spread on his lips. "I think I might be able to cause my dear brother some trouble." John pulled out his phone but stopped when he heard Mycroft on the other side of the door. "You might want to pack for two weeks at least. This could take a while." They heard his footsteps retreating and John wondered for the umpteenth time if Mycroft was more dangerous than Moriarty.
• • •
After lots of fighting and the threats the two were eventually packed. Sherlock had fallen into a state of sulking so John was left alone to pack their bags into the ridiculously fancy car. Honestly the Holmes family was apparently wealthy enough to own several estates, it made no sense. Sherlock shouldn't have needed to share a flat. When the aforementioned consulting detective was coaxed into the car and they were on their way John finally got the chance to actually look at the case file. "So... Some bloke named Francis Bonnefoy huh? Doesn't say his position-" "Ambassador from France. Boring. Next," Sherlock interrupted and John sighed for the hundredth time that time. "So he's currently staying in Claridge's Hotel, that's got to be expensive," Sherlock dismissively waved his hand and John continued. "Well... That's really it. What does Mycroft want you to investigate anyways?" The detective was quiet for a minute before replying, "I don't know. He's keeping something from me and I don't like it." Whatever it is, John thought, it must be fairly important.
• • •
Somewhere within the British government Mycroft was getting a headache. "Arthur I don't care of it is Francis we're talking about. A criminal mastermind tried to attack him so we need to find out why." The man seated opposite to him didn't seem to care. "But it's France," he muttered. "Surely it isn't that big of a deal." Aspirin. Aspirin would be wonderful right now. "It is and you know it. Well have to see what turns up but until then you are expected to visit him and insure he's not suffering. Understood?" Green eyes met grey and the younger man nodded. He left the room, grumbling about bloody frogs the whole way. When the door was shut and footsteps receded down the hall Mycroft buzzed his secretary. "Anthea, I need some painkillers." he barked and heard snickering on the other end. "Right away sir," she replied. Yes, this was going to be a hard two weeks.
I'm sorry for the short chapter. This was just the introduction. Also, Claridge's Hotel really is a fancy hotel somewhere in London. Anyways, please reveiw and tell me how I did!