"The Big Switch-a-roo."
Chapter 6
"Sherlock meets Mycroft's adoptive mother."
It took an almost insultingly short amount of time for everything to go to absolute shit in the wake of Sherlock's impulsive decision.
"Hello? Yes this Holmes… no, not that one, I… I'm sorry I have no information about thi- there is another person calling, bye now." With that very professional and very polite response, Sherlock Holmes slammed the phone down, and promptly picked up the next phone call to his left. "Hello? Hello? Wha-Sir I don't understand a word you're saying! Can you-can you speak English?! English por favor! Ugh, I'll deal with you later!" Down went another phone. "Once I figure out what blackwater language you just assaulted my ears with!"
To be fair he could have answered just about any of the ten (ten?) Old-school phones (yes, those with curly cables and funny dials that you moved around with your finger) that were lovingly decorating his older brother's beautiful oak desk, because every single one of them was glaring it's ear-splitting ringtone at him.
"Hello? Hello?" This time the response was loud enough to make him get it as far away from his poor ear as possible. Which just happened to be on the other side of the room as he… might have, just might have, thrown it there. Thank God for the cable or else the end of the conversation might have been impolite, and we can't have that. "P-Please stop screeching, miss!" He called over to it, leaning over the desk. "I can't-I can't understand you! What-what about the stock exchange?" By that point she was too far gone. He decided to take mercy on himself and cut the cable. Mycroft will understand. Probably. No, no he won't.
His thoughts were interrupted by the, really quite neverending, wail of phones.
"Aaaargh, what now?!" The curly haired man picked up the closest phone to his right, one that was just the prettiest gray color. "Yes?! Oh oh God not again. ENGLISH! Please just use english! What is it with you people calling an Englishman without knowing english?!" Down, down down it went.
The younger Holmes has been at this for the past thirty minutes, picking up phones, trying and failing to understand what the speaker wants, then slamming it down with gusto, and then finally moving to another one, and he was already getting a bit sick of it, to be honest.
Who knew so many people had his older brother's number?
And that most of them don't even know the most popular language in the world?
…
No wonder he insisted he wasn't lonely with all those stupid phones ringing non-stop.
He was about to call it quits, both the job and the damn bet, and just go on an all destroying rampage (which none of the phones will survive, because they don't deserve life for tormenting him so) when Anthea entered the room.
"Please tell me you plan on answering those phones." Her ability to be heard over the shrill of the angry phones without raising her voice honestly made him wonder, (for the first time since he was what, five?) If perhaps the people blabbering about the 'supernatural living among us' were right all along.
"If by 'answering' you mean 'throwing them against the wall enough times to make it look like a failed science experiment' then yes, yes I am." He answered, yelling at the top of his lungs, as he, unfortunately, is not magical.
"You can't do that." Anthea responded, her eyes now glued to the screen of her blackberry.
"I can't answer the phones?" Sherlock asked, being the cheeky little shit that he is.
The look she gave him in response only solidified his belief that she is a mystical creature, as it literally made his blood turn to ice.
"Alright, alright, still not happy with me I see." He muttered and, wisely, averted his eyes, before returning to his seat and going back to work.
"I'm never happy with you." Would you look at that, she has super hearing as well. That means she's at least a vampire.
Or a werewolf.
Or a goblin.
Or an el-
"Not an elf."
Terrifying.
He settled on terrifying.
"Can I please take a break?" Sherlock begged literally fifteen minutes later, as the loud phone shrill was beginning to take over his very mind.
Another five minutes and he might start believing he's a phone booth.
"No." But Anthea, the terrifying mystical beast of unknown origins, would not grant him the mercy he so clearly desired.
"But I said please!" He wailed desperately, because he knows full well that he's an overgrown five year old boy and, for once, isn't ashamed to fully embrace his unique identity.
She whacks him on the head with her blackberry.
Un-bloody-believable.
"And I said 'no'." The woman? Human? Thing? Answered with, by far, the coldest stare he's ever experienced. "Now quit being a big baby, and go back to being responsible for the lives of all your fellow countrymen."
"But I don't want to!" Normally he wouldn't have a problem with screaming all of his lines, but he's been doing that ever since she came in here, and his throat was already planning on murdering him in his sleep with his own spit, so he figured stopping about now would at least make his death quick.
"Tough luck." Anthea, who, as we established before, had no such problems, calmly watched him suffer in immense agony with no sense of remorse whatsoever.
"Is there anything else I can do?!" Sherlock called out. "Anything at all?! Something that doesn't involve plastic little boxes that make unbelievable noise all the time?!"
To his immense relief, she actually took the time to look thoughtful.
Oh thank Cthulhu!
"There is… one thing you could do."
"I'll do it! Whatever it is, I'll do it!" He was so excited to get out of this blasted chair and out of this damn room, that he practically flew out of his seat.
Anthea just smiled and opened the door.
"Follow me then, Mr. Holmes."
Sherlock, poor, beautifully naive, Sherlock smiled back and walked out.
'This is the greatest decision of my life.'
'That was the worst decision of my life.'
Holmes thought not five seconds later, because, as it turns out, the other thing he could do… was meet someone for dinner.
And not just any old random someone.
But the Queen of England.
Who thinks his older brother hung the moon and the stars onto the sky.
Along with all of her corgis, who were also sitting at the table, and probably thought of the older Holmes just as highly.
"Oh he is just wonderful, our Mycroft." She cooed, while slicing a particularly plentiful piece of pie. "Such a dedicated and devoted countryman! He does us proud every day!"
"I'm sure he does, Your highness." Sherlock said, rather bitterly cutting into his own slice.
"Oh you should have seen him during a crisis, dear boy, he acted like a proper king!" Had it been anyone else but Mycroft's, and therefore his for the time being, boss, Sherlock would have called them insane. "Truly a proper leader if there ever was one!"
Hearing someone have so many nice things to say about Mycroft, made the younger brother want to throw up.
"Mhm." Deciding to not piss off the living monarch, he stuffed his face with the entire thing.
And promptly ordered one more.
"We wish our son, Charles, was more like him!" The queen, unperturbed by his lack of a coherent response, continued on gushing. "Charlie would do well if he came and watched Mycroft work. Perhaps some of Sir Holmes's dedication and natural leadership would rub off on him."
Sherlock nearly choked.
Sir Mycroft. Sweet mother of Joseph, he was knighted.
Make that two. Two more pies.
"You should cherish him more, Mr. Holmes." The Queen suddenly turned to him with a scolding tone of voice. "We've heard of all the trouble you've caused the poor boy over the years. It deeply displeases us that one of our most popular countrymen acts so childishly on a daily basis."
If there was ever a moment in his life when Sherlock wanted to hide under the table, now was that moment.
"We do wish you would stop tormenting the man I consider a beloved son, Mr. Holmes." The Queen continued to level him with the stare of a disapproving mother, that made the boy want to shrivel and die.
What made things worse…
Was the knowledge that this was only day one.
AN: Guess who's back. Back again. Back to stay.
Hey everyone! Sorry for the long wait and the short chap but, despite my many shortcomings, I hope this chapter will at least make you giggle in these trying times.