Booth stared blankly at his computer screen as he clicked randomly on the tiny boxes on his monitor. Minesweeper was the only entertainment he was getting, and had got for weeks. Apparently not many people were into the murdering business at the moment. Maybe the insane guilt was getting to the criminals. Or maybe people just weren't making skeletons for Bones to use. Apparently flesh was "in" right now. Booth sighed. A long drawn out sigh. He clicked the x at the top of the minesweeper window and returned to staring into space. He could clean his office… again. But what was the point? Everything was already set into place, and he didn't fancy hearing the giggles he conjured when he asked for the vacuum cleaner. No. Just boredom for Booth. But suddenly and illogically his phone rang and for the first time in weeks. He almost jumped out of his chair with excitement.

"Hello, this is Seeley Booth." He said, with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm.

"Hello Seeley. I have a case for you."

Booth blinked. "Ok. Have you talked to Bones yet?"

"No. this isn't really a Bones case. But we need a cop, and you are the only one available."

"I don't work without Bones."

"I know you don't Seeley, but I am sending out one of my best and you and Bones would like to meet him. Trust me on that."

"If Bones agrees, we both do."

"Thank you. The detective arrives at 8:15 pm on Sunday. Can you pick him up at Washington international airport?"

"Sherlock. Stop being a child and pack a suitcase."

Sherlock sat cross-legged on his rather untidy sofa, picking at a loose thread on his British flag cushion and facing away from his older brother.

"No."

"Sherlock." Mycroft looked at his brother with a frown and a warning in his voice. "This will do wonders for the British government."

"No. The case you have asked me to attend is not worthy of my time and neither are you. I don't work for people with double digit IQ's."

Mycroft sighed and leant further onto his umbrella. Sherlock ran his fingers through his hair angrily but paused when he heard the familiar sound of John's noisy, running footsteps from the stairwell. He flung the cushion in his lap at Mycroft and sent an evil glare in his general direction, before turning to face John, who now stood in the doorway to his very messy apartment.

"Sherlock. What the hell have you done?"

Paper was strewn in seemingly random patterns around the carpet, the coffee table was upturned and the only circle of cleanness surrounded the tall and imposing figure of Mycroft, who stood in the middle of the room looking in confusion at John.

"We had a little… disagreement." Mycroft stated. His brow furrowed in frustration.

"Little?"

"Well, you know how tiresome Sherlock can be."

John nodded his head slowly and rubbed his temple with his hand.

"What is it this time, Mycroft?"

"My little brother refuses to travel to America and solve a rather interesting case, which seems to indicate the work of a serial killer."

"Sherlock. You're a brilliant detective." John left the connotation hanging.

Sherlock looked at John with squinting eyes.

"John, this case is clearly a waste of my time. Why don't you go for me?" Sherlock drawled.

"Sherlock I will not solve a case via wi-fi."

"Fine. To aid the British government achieve a mutual friendship with America."

Mycroft smiled a cat-like smile and nodded in John's direction.

"Your flight leaves at 5pm tomorrow. Here are your tickets. All accommodation paid for and you will be picked up from Washington Dulles International Airport at…"

Sherlock scowled and grabbed the tickets from Mycroft, cutting him off in the middle of his sentence.

"I'm not as stupid as you, Mycroft I can convert the times in my head. We'll be picked up at 8:15." Sherlock said with a snarl.

Mycroft smiled, "You always liked to get your own way." He grabbed his coat off the back of the sofa and placed his hat on his head, tipping it to John as he left. "Good day, John."