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I am so so so so so sorry that I didn't post yesterday as promised.

It gets so busy near the start of school. ANYWHO! I will try to stick to my daily posting regimine, but it will likely stretch to a few days in between updates since I am trying to (again) lengthen chapters. Please take time to favorite, follow, and review, as well as check out my profile! I swear I'll have more stories out soon! I'm trying to bring a little more lightheartedness and humor into my writing so if it doesn't work out let me know, k?

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Chapter Three: The Pompous Bastard

John Watson

John was, frankly, astonished Sherlock's tactic worked so well on the brat. Of course it was Sherlock, so he knew it would work to some extent, but this reaction was comical.

It was all John could do to stop himself from laughing. This is hardly the time to laugh, he scolded himself. This should be serious. We still don't know anything. They could be lying. They could be out to kill us! Who knows what their goals are?

And yet, despite all the objections the rational portion of John's mind threw at him, how could he not be amused at a scene like this?

Ciel was being physically held back by Sebastian, whilst kicking and screaming, attempting to assert that he was, in fact, not a child. The butler did not seem surprised at this, rather only slightly amused, which John saw in the almost imperceptible upward curl of his lip. John almost couldn't decipher most of his words as he was speaking at such a fast rate, but the hate and rage was unmistakably there. Luckily Sebastian soon calmed the young Earl down enough so that he could speak in normal tones.

Yet before he could speak Sebastian quickly explained what had just happened. He bowed to the flatmates and said, "I deeply apologize for the young master's actions. He has become incredibly irate in recent years about his being addressed as a child." He straightened, and with a smirk returned to his place behind Earl Phantomhive's chair.

Ciel inhaled deeply and spoke calmly, "Please do refrain from calling me such things. I have a history of my own, and there are things best not revealed. At least, until you comply with us." And there it was. That devilish glint in his eye. This kid knew just how to string an investigator driven by sheer curiosity along. Damn this kid.

"Well," Sherlock said, "I am not sure we can work with someone so short tempered as you. How might you act in a critical situation, I wonder?" Ciel glowered at him. "Moreover," he continued, eyeing Ciel, "we would need specific details on the case and positive identification that my brother in fact sent you."

"We couldn't possibly work with you if we couldn't trust you," John added seriously.

"Yes, well, I am not so sure about trust, but our 'positive identification' should be…" Ciel paused. His eyes flicked to Sebastian. "What time is it?" he inquired.

Sebastian, much to John's surprise, pulled out an ornate pocket watch. Why the hell would he even have that? It's not even practical. Not to mention expensive! John thought. "It is 12:03," Sebastian replied, closing the watch with a snap.

"Our positive identification should be arriving in approximately 2 minutes," Ciel finished cryptically. At this point John was just irritated with the mind games this little brat and Sherlock were playing, as well as done with this creepy butler in his house. He most certainly wasn't going to tolerate some type of riddle.

"What the bloody hell do you mean by arr-" John started to ask hotly, but was cut off by the sound of a door opening, and footsteps pounding up the staircase. A tall man with a pinched and sour face, donning an expensive suit and carrying an umbrella, appeared at the door.

"Well you didn't have to take off and break in their window, for heaven's sake," he said distastefully, addressing the Earl and butler. "You could have at least acted like civilized folk and used the door if you were going to show up with no warning." H muttered something imperceptible under his breath that John didn't quite catch. He turned to Sherlock.

"Brother, dear, these are two of my," he scrunched up his face as if he were being forced to swallow rocks, "associates. I have sent them to you for help on a case that they have appeared to be incapable of solving." He then made for the door, "do have fun!" he called over his shoulder dismissively.

The appearance of Mycroft Holmes had been so sudden and short-lived that not one person in the room had had time enough to react before he was already gone. John jumped up to ask him more but he only saw the closing of their flat door before Mycroft's government car sped off. As he went back and sat down Ciel turned to them and smiled triumphantly.

"I was surprised at the rate he got here," he grinned. "He must have been in quite the rush."

"Quite," Sherlock muttered, and John knew that he was filing everything away, trying to figure out exactly what was going on. That reassurance was likely the only reason John didn't strangle Ciel Phantomhive at what he said next.

"Well, I suppose that settles it. Our 'positive identification' has shown his face, and you are now expected to help us in any and all ways possible." His eyes glinted. "As instructed by the British government."

Oh, how John wanted to strangle the kid, and that pompous bastard Mycroft too while he was at it.

Okay how was that?

Is the plot too slow?

Want some action already or are you okay with the intricate set up?

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Love you all,

~TheFullmetalSociopath