Temptation

Beep, Sherlock's phone sounded beside him. He was sitting in his chair at 221B Baker Street, playing his violin. Hmm, he thought, now who could that be? He picked up his phone, but it wasn't a text. His phone read 1 missed call: RESTRICTED. At once Sherlock leaped up.

"John! I need your help," Sherlock called.

"Yes?" John popped his head in the doorway.

"Find out what this restricted number is."

The doctor sighed. "All right, Sherlock." John sat down at his computer and started to type slowly.

"John, honestly, couldn't you type just a bit faster?"

"Hold… on…"

"Dear God, John. Move over," Sherlock sighed. He sat down where John was before.

"Find anything, Sherlock?" John said after a few minutes. Sherlock just grunted. "Nice, thank you for the information," John muttered.

"Call Mycroft."

"Sherlock, it was just a restricted call. Maybe a telemarketer or something like that. Just let it be."

"Let it be? Let it be? John, I can't let this be! What if it's a case, or a clue or some other thing?" Sherlock cried.

"Okay, Sherlock," John soothed and took Sherlock's arm in his hand. Sherlock glanced down where John's hand was clasped on his arm.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Excuse me. I'm going to call Mycroft now." Sherlock turned away and dialed Mycroft's number.

"Sherlock, dear brother. You really should call more often."

"Mycroft I need your help. I got a call from a restricted number. Don't tell me it's not important because John and I already went through that."

"Hmm. Fine, Sherlock. I'll be over soon." Then the elder Holmes hung up. _

Sherlock, John and Mycroft were all gathered around Mycroft's high-tech computer. They had been working for about an hour by the time Mycroft finally spoke. "Well, Dr. Watson, seems you were wrong. The significance of this undefined call is a member of the utmost important subjects of the unidentified things in the contact world."

"English, please?" The doctor requested.

Mycroft smiled a small smile. "The person who called my brother purposely made this number restricted. Why they did this, I can't tell. I'm trying to track this number, but the person who made this is very educated in the technology field."

Sherlock and John looked at each other. John raised his eyebrows but Sherlock shook his head. "No, not Moriarty. This isn't like him."

"Sherlock that man has broke into a bank, sat on a throne, paid people so he wouldn't go to jail, had people strapped to bombs, stolen children. What ISN'T like him?"

"Good point, John. But I know Moriarty-"

"Sherlock, as do I!"

"Settle down you two. It isn't Moriarty. I know that much." Mycroft put in.

"How?" John questioned.

Mycroft spun around, "Dear John, I am the British government. The government knows everything. If I tried to explain it to you, you wouldn't be able to comprehend it, so there really is no point in telling you." Mycroft spun back around to his computer.

John sighed and raised his eyebrows at Sherlock. Then the doctor turned for he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

"Oh hello, Mycroft, dear!" Mrs. Hudson chimed.

"Hello, Mrs. Hudson," the elder Holmes sighed.

"Problem?"

"Tea, please, Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock said.

"I'm not your housekeeper, I'm just your landlady."

"Caffeinated, earl grey, please." Just then Sherlock's phone buzzed.

Come and play- St. Bart's roof- if you dare. ~ H

"I'll be right back." Sherlock jumped up from his seat.

"Where are you-" John began.

"Just going out for some air. Be back soon…" Sherlock's voice died out as he exited 221B Baker Street.