221B BAKER STREET
"This is intolerable!" Mycroft complained, a pained expression on his face as he observed himself in the full-length mirror.
Molly turned to the tall man standing next to her. "Too much?" she asked, her teeth worrying her lower lip.
"Not at all," Sherlock assured her. "It's perfect."
"Is this absolutely necessary?" the elder Holmes enquired as he turned from side to side, only to find no improvement in his reflection.
"Mycroft I'm surprised at you," Sherlock reprimanded the man who claimed to be merely a minor government official. "I would have thought you of all people would want to see this situation sorted out as quickly and as quietly as possible. It being a matter of national security after all."
Though the worlds only consulting detectives statement was made with all the solemnity that the situation required, Molly nonetheless detected the unashamed delight that beckoned from behind his enigmatic blue/green eyes. Not to mention the hint of a smirk that twitched at the corners of his cupids bow lips.
Thankfully Mycroft was too occupied with fussing over his outfit to notice.
However the whole situation had become too much for John, who had managed to maintain his composure up until that point. So with his head bowed and his body shaking uncontrollably, he finally gave in to a fit of hysterical laughter.
Sherlock turned and glared at him.
Anthea, Mycroft's dedicated personal everything had been watching the whole interaction silently. She now made her way over to Sherlock's side. "He will have your head for this, you know that don't you?" she remarked.
Sherlock in turn raised an inquisitive, elegant eyebrow. "Why Anthea, whatever do you mean?"
