A. N. MERRY CHRISTMAS! Prompt from cjnwriter - Crashing a Christmas party.
"I expected headaches and shame from you, brother mine, but I thought that your flatmate was a proper gentleman," Mycroft grumbled, arriving at 221B like a not entirely unexpected storm.
"He is, Mycroft. I warn you, I will not stand you insulting my friend," the consulting detective replied, eyes ablaze. Thankfully, the discussed doctor hadn't still come back from his rounds.
"He. Crashed. The. German. Ambassador's. Christmas. Party," the elder brother declared, stating each word with excessive care.
"And drank way too much, made a scene most of the guests there won't forget in a good ten years – I don't think they've even had that much fun at an Embassy party, by the way –, boisterously courted half the ladies there, and had to be bodily removed from the premises, managing to injure a couple of the Ambassador's security guards there," Sherlock ended quickly for him. If they had to pause between each word they'd still be doing that in the New Year.
"And you call that being a gentleman?" Mycroft hissed, raising a puzzled eyebrow.
"I call that being a patriotic man and a loyal friend," the younger one affirmed vehemently. "I crashed that party too, Mycroft. And it is exactly because the doctor was attracting so much attention – even the guards' attention – that I managed to slip in and take back these documents you wanted. It's a pity we couldn't manage to stop the exchange in the first place, but the Germans have not held onto them for more than a hour. I doubt they had time to examine them properly. The Empire should be safe…thanks to Watson." He fished out an unassuming grey folder from the mess that was the table of the sitting room and handed it to his brother.
"Oh Sherlock, Sherlock…and you couldn't devise a plan that would entail less of a nuisance?" the civil servant groaned.
"You can take the documents back by yourself the next time, brother. I don't doubt you'll be much more smooth. Probably bore everyone to sleep and then get whatever you want," the detective snapped, irritated. No one had the right to tell him how to do his work. His annoying, lazy brother less than anyone else.
Mycroft ignored the taunt. "Anyway, I doubt that the good doctor will ever be very welcomed in Germany."
"Good thing that he does not plan journeying there anytime soon, then," the sleuth replied, shrugging.
"You two are impossible," Mycroft huffed. "I'll better bring this back to Whitehall promptly. The Earl of Kimberley will be most relieved."