Salutations everyone!

First, I would like to apologize for taking so long to update this, been swamped with homework and my mom's all in an uproar over getting the house repainted. (their doing something with drywall that's getting dust over everything, my mom's a bit of a neat freak)

Second, this will be a Mycroft date scene that will incorporate some of the various MDI's I have received since starting as well as my own twist. Just a warning; if you squint at this chapter you will see slight John/Mycroft. Also, beware of John being a wee bit BAMF-ish.

Also, as of the next chapter I will officially have a Beta! My dearest wifey has agreed to help me with this story. This is doubly good for you guys, as it mean that I'll be working on this story twice as much and have someone who won't let me fall behind. Even with wifey, I would still like to hear any ideas you guys have for MDI's or anything else. Now that that's been said, on with the story! Oh wait…

Disclaimer: Don't own BBC's Sherlock, now on with story!

Raising the Stakes

John's POV

John had had a few rather odd couple of days. Sherlock, who had all but ignored him before, seemed to both want to keep ignoring him and not leave him alone at all. He'd been saved from both when Lestrade had called by the day before with a robbery and double homicide. Sherlock had looked around the home of the deceased, asked him to examine both bodies, (straight forward blunt force trauma to the back of the head on the husband, and asphyxiation due to strangulation to the wife) accosted Anderson and Sally, spouted off random facts about the crime scene and left with a dramatic swirl of his coat and John on his heel.

Once they had slid into a cab and were on their way back to the flat Sherlock had informed him (at John's prompting) that this was part of a chain of robberies that had occurred all across London, also that the killer had staked out the house and hadn't wanted to murder either of them. (The thief was already inside the house John. Husband and wife were out for the evening, judging from his watch and her necklace; I'd say a gala held by his firm. They came home early; he couldn't hold his drink, obviously. They surprised him, as evident by the scuffs in the middle of the floor. The robber had clearly had no intention to kill them or he would have had a gun or some other weapon, had to use what was available to him.)

After they had reached the flat Sherlock had proceeded to grab John's laptop and drape himself over the sofa. John had made them both tea, which Sherlock ignored. John flicked on the tellie, flipping through channels before settling on some quiz game. They continued in this fashion for almost two hours before Sherlock snapped his laptop closed harshly(Sherlock!) and rushed to the door calling for John to follow over his shoulder.

As it turned out, the detective had discovered where the thief was going to rob next. This led them to a rather comfy looking home just north of Victoria Park. It also led them chasing the crook 'round said comfy home. They'd ended up catching him of course, after it'd started to pour buckets and the man had nearly run headlong into traffic. Sherlock texted Lestrade and they were walking back to the main road to hail a cab when it happened.

Shiny black car pulling up alongside, tiny beads streaming over its surface. Sherlock had tensed beside him, glaring fiercely at the rear window facing them. The car had stopped the few feet ahead of the pair, door opening to reveal one Mycroft Holmes. (Honestly who else could it be?) The elder Holmes had met the youngers glare with a barely concealed smugness. Mycroft opened his umbrella before stepping out of the car and walking to meet them.

"Sherlock, John" was his greeting, accompanied by a nod. Which John returned. Sherlock…not so much.

"Mycroft" You didn't need to be a genius to feel the animosity flowing between the two siblings.

"Now don't be that way Sherlock" Mycroft mused, shifting his weight to both feet, fully prepared to go up against his brother in verbal warfare. John sighed and nestled into himself, shivering, wanting to forego the up and coming battle in favor of the kettle and hot shower that waited for him back home.

Mycroft, of course, saw his discomfort and placed himself close enough to John so that they were now both covered by Mycroft's large umbrella. John offered him a smile of thanks and shifted closer to the ginger haired Holmes, not noticing the way his flatmate had frozen across from him.

"John?" Mycroft inquired, not sparing a glance for his, now glaring, baby brother. John hummed his reply.

"I was wandering if you might have wanted to accompany me to the opera this evening, perhaps dinner if you were so inclined." John found he could little more than stare at his friends older brother wondering if he'd heard right. If the man who was the British government had really just invited him out, to the opera. Glancing at both men's faces told that 'yes, yes he had.' It also left him with a feeling of being completely buggered.

Mycroft's POV

Mycroft was very pleased with himself. After just one early brunch, his brother had apparently vetoed his previous decision to barricade John from his crime scenes. This was getting easier all the time.

It had been simple enough to track his brother's movements through his chase with the doctor, slightly more difficult to time his arrival at just the right moment, and no great trial to offer shelter to John. In fact, he'd a great more satisfaction from seeing his younger relation freeze in an uncharacteristic display of shock. Mycroft was rather attached to his umbrella; he had rarely ever used it to shield anyone other than himself.

It wasn't hard to make his offer of opera to John. He was sure that John would acquiesce to his request being the agreeable person he was. A look at his brother face told him otherwise. The frozen shock upon his face had melted to one Mycroft knew very well, unabashed smugness.

"An opera?" the disconcertion in the man's voice only served to add inches onto his brother's smirk. He felt an atypical need to retreat and lick his wounds.

"If you'd rather not, then perhaps-"

"Have you ever been to see Wicked?" Mycroft Holmes was not one that was used to being interrupted by anyone. (Save Sherlock but that was another matter entirely) Of course Mycroft had heard of the play in which the doctor referred, he could not say that he had seen it though. He moved his head in the appropriate motion and waited for the doctor to make himself clear. He was greatly intrigued when instead John smiled slyly and pulled out his phone.

As the smaller man punched in the desired number and held the device to ear he couldn't help sparing a glance to his brother. He was slightly relieved to see that Sherlock appeared to not know what the doctor was up to either.

"Hello Paul, wouldn't still happen to have those tickets by any chance." A grin here "wonderful, I'll be popping by shortly then. Say 'hi' to Donna for me? You too, see you then." He ended the call and pocketed his phone before turning to meet the mirrored curious looks of the Holmes brothers.

"Would it be possible to swing by the flat while you round back to your place before we head out?" John had phrased it as a question but Mycroft was sure that any answer he gave would result in the same conclusion, even if he wasn't quite sure what it was. (Tickets to a play, he'd gathered, though he wasn't exactly sure just what John had planned)

"Of course, though I can't say I know what you are planning to achieve." Sherlock didn't either, from what he could tell.

"Mycroft, I think it's time to how you how us normal, dull people paint the town red," John was simply smiling contently now. "Besides I owe you from brunch earlier this week."

"I'm sure Mycroft has already taken back whatever was owed him by you in spades by now John, most likely in the form of surveillance footage." Sherlock simpered, looking hard at the man in question.

"Sherlock, please, it's not like he spies on me in the shower, and I already had the tickets anyway." John shrugged, nonchalant in the face an increasingly irate Sherlock.

"Why not ask me to go?" For an alleged sociopath, Sherlock had been very expressive in these past few minutes. Not seeming to mind getting poured on by buckets of precipitation.

"Because you would hate it, then probably delete it. It be a waste of time, Mycroft at least might enjoy it." Mycroft was a little touched that John had been so thoughtful of him. Sherlock was not impressed.

John simply shook his head, choosing to ignore the child Sherlock had transformed into. He checked his phone for the time before turning back to face Mycroft.

"Mycroft after we get back to the flat, it would be helpful if you went and changed as well. Something not so businessy." John then proceeded to guide Sherlock back to the vehicle, still parked at the curb. Mycroft found himself following behind the pair, mentally making himself a note to take the surveillance cameras out of the shower.

An hour and a half later saw Mycroft and John sitting in surprisingly good seats of a play he was actually enjoying. Though John had been right, Sherlock would have hated it. The military man had had more sense than he'd given him credit for.

Once the show was over Mycroft and John piled into his car where the doctor surprised him by telling the driver an address he wasn't familiar with. They arrived at a nondescript building less than half an hour later. John had marched them straight past the man inside the door, even sending a nod and smile his way.

They skipped the counter and went directly into a room filled with firearms.

"Ever played paintball before?" Whatever Mycroft had expected, it certainly wasn't this. John decided to take his silence as a firm, tentative no.

"Ever fired an actual gun?" Mycroft nodded, a spark of eagerness flared up as he deduced what was being asked of him.

"Well same thing, a little bit heavier and much less potentially dangerous, but similar." John's mischievous grin was back "it'll smart something awful though."

"Then I'll have to do my best to not be hit." Mycroft couldn't remember the last time he'd been so excited about something so seemingly trivial. A question popped up in the back of his mind at that point, remembering how John had simply waltzed them in passed the, frankly very large, bodyguard as well as back at the theater. John seemed to have picked up how to read him from the prolonged contact with Sherlock because it wasn't long before he replied to his unasked question

"You're not the only person in the city with some connections you know, now shut up that over active brain of yours and pick up a gun." Mycroft shook his and picked up a gun on his left. John fitted it with a canister containing decently sized red balls, presumably filled with paint. John then handed him a vest and helmet.

"Come along Mycroft, let's see what you got." John grinned wide, the trill of adrenaline no doubt making itself comfortable inside the army veteran. Mycroft took his challenge, a similar rush flooding though him. He really should come 'round more often, John was just full of surprises.

Again, I am very sorry for having taken so long. I'm also sorry that there wasn't a whole lot of Sherlock in this one but i promise the next will plenty enough to make up for it. ;P

Hope you liked it, MDI's welcomed and a shout out to all those who have already sent them in. please review!

Thanks for reading! ^w^