*Storm in a Teacup*

by: WhiteGloves

A/N: Hello! Hello!

Months have passed since the last one :D I'm passing by as well xD

As ever, in love with the Holmes brothers! This won't take many chapters!

Mycroft is in all sorts of trouble xD

Thanks for reading :)

His room was dark with only his silhouette seen flat on the bed and on his stomach, his curly hair buried deep on his pillow with eyes tightly shut with the slight movement of his chest as he breathed evenly. His blanket was left unused at the end of this feet for he didn't feel like using it. Such was his position till the break of dawn.

But his even breathing made a full stop as something occurred to him out in the dark. Much more than his keen awareness of his surrounding, it was his nose that forewarned him. Sherlock realized it even before his eyes could flutter open from his slumber: someone uninvited was in the house. His eyes opened then, alert and angry—alert because it was natural for his instinct to make him jump out of bed in speed of light and put on his robes at a short warning and angry because he knew exactly who it was that invaded his privacy.

He shot open his bedroom door, fully aware that it was only half past five in the morning, and the full blast of the aroma that awakened him tickled his nose. It was not gas or any poison at all but for the love of London, Sherlock would rather have any of those any day if it meant not having that person there on his living room now. He strode shortly on the corridor leading there in all intent with his arms swinging violently around him, and then stopping on his tracks as his eyes feasted on the small table in the middle of the room where a set of tea cups was already prepared and a man with thinning hair, properly fixed collar, tie, buttons, handkerchiefs and too shiny shoes that appeared to be out of place sat on his favorite chair.

Brother Mycroft was in the house.

Sherlock's expression automatically crunched up in a contemptuous look as his big brother eyed him with glinting eyes as he drank on his tea cup with a tiny little finger up.

"Tea?" he offered with smile not reaching his eyes but he seemed genuine enough. Genuinely polite.

"That's my tea set." Sherlock replied drily as he slumped on John's empty chair with the end of his robes whipping the air. He pointed at the set fully aware of its markings and trademark. Mycroft barely made an expression.

"I brought my own tea set. I hardly expect you to keep some proper ones. You'll have to catch me dead before I drink in any of your cups. God knows what organ has been swimming in it—"

"It's mine."

"Meissen porcelain you know. One of the finest collection."

"Still mine." Sherlock raised both his legs on the armchair and gave his brother a penetrating look. "So why come bearing gifts?"

"I'm not giving you anything—" Mycroft began to protest.

Sherlock's eyes flickered from his brother down to the tea set in front of him and blasted away—

"Meissen porcelain one of your best collections out of all those rare and expensive ones—you are a collector, a collector of many classic things—but this is not the best. I know for a fact that you have Half Figure Service set—the most valuable out of all of Meissen porcelains and that you keep it at the best place of your home. Don't bother I know where it is." He rolled his eyes and went on, "To carry tea set in my home—not uncommon—but to bring it out early in this morning and to find you perfectly seated on my chair drinking one of the most awarded tea in the world? That could only mean trouble has befallen my dear brother so he comes sailing to my house, disturbing me with his oolong tea smell and practically invading my chair so there you have it the tea set is mine."

He eyed his brother once more. "So, what has gotten you fleeing the comfort of your home?"

Mycroft returned his gaze, before it fell on his detective brother's crossed legs on the armchair.

"Just—put your legs down, sit properly."

Sherlock smirked but did as he was told anyway to put his full attention on his brother— but then all of a sudden, the answer came to him even before his feet could touched the ground—

"Mummy." He breathed. "This is all about mother? You never leave your house unless someone who knows it is coming to barge in and since it isn't me then it could only be one other person in this planet—"

Mycroft gave in as a sign of putting his teacup down and looking at his brother seriously.

"I don't think it's actually that grave, but knowing mother—"

"What she's done? Opened your internet history?" Sherlock was grinning now as he relaxed and finally leaned on his chair; smiling suddenly at the possibility of his brother falling in the hands of their mother after a misdeed.

Just like the old times.

"I'm not the one she's always cross with, Sherlock." Mycroft answered as he read his brother's smile. "Well, maybe these days given what's happened to… Sherrinford." The British Government Head cleared his throat quickly with the detective not interrupting him, "It has been many months and now this."

"What happened?"

Mycroft paused, then began with the usual raising of both his eyebrows up to show that it least concerned him but Sherlock knew better as he listened closely.

"Someone hacked into our system and sent a very confidential attachment to an address— it was the only one that was found successfully sent when the team retrieved the data from the laptop that was used. One email. This particular email was sent over to our mother'saddress by mistake which contains top security information that would be fatal if released to the public."

"What makes you think it's a mistake?"

Mycroft raised an eyebrow testily.

"Sent to our mother, of course it's mistake."

Sherlock frowned as he understood. "Nobody should know any details about her, you keep them secure…"

Mycroft pressed his lips together and gave a short nod.

"The fact that it was uncovered and sent to a civilian has the whole Secret Service stirring but the deed has already been done. If it was any other civilian that received it, it will only be too easy for me to silence them but as it was our mother—

"You can't do a thing." Sherlock's eyes shone. "Brilliant."

"I was hoping to get your sympathy."

"Looking at the wrong place, you are." The detective clapped his hands. "So which confidential attachment was sent that made mummy come flying to merry old London?" Sherlock could already just picture out his mother receiving scandals of the Prime Minister or even the Royal family that was already making him grin from ear to ear when Mycroft pulled his full weight and said—

"Mine."

And at that exact moment, they heard a cab stopped right outside and Mrs. Hudson answering the door.

But all Sherlock could think at that time was—oh the domesticity of the situation.

Which part here should be exciting again?

Ten minutes later there was a sharp slapping sound that made Sherlock froze as he saw his brother's left cheek redden with their mother's hand still in the air.

-To be Continued-

a/n: If there is anyone to get any emotional response from Mycroft aside from Sherlock,

It's mummy Holmes! But Sherlock will always sort his big brother out ;)

Watch out for the next one^^

Angshupriyasaha wanted something like this^^ thanks for reminding me of mama Holmes in the picture :*

Thanks for reading!