Big Brother is here and he's about to be a test subject of a 'social experiment'. He gave me a lot of trouble for this chapter…
I don't own BBC Sherlock, or any of the AU stories out there. I just own a strange muse!
Mycroft sighed as he leaned back in the leather seat of his black car. He had had a grueling work day and he was drained. He dreaded the visit to the residence of his brother and his friend, 221B Baker Street. His feelings about the visit were ambivalent. On the one hand, he wasn't in the mood to argue with his brother. Sherlock had destroyed all of the audio transmitting bugs in the flat, (which were all placed in the living room), and the Backer Street surveillance team had picked up random snatches of conversation from the flat which made no sense.
Why would the words blood bags, full moon, wings, and Voldemert be used in the span of half an hour in a conversation between Sherlock, John, and DI Lestrade? He knew for a fact that the cold case the DI brought Sherlock had nothing to do with the occult. Was Sherlock working on a case that involved all of that? This was why Mycroft needed to pay his brother a little visit.
On the other hand, visiting 221B and being a part of its odd domesticity- even for a short while- was a refreshing change from the usual milieu he dealt with. Ever since John and Mrs. Hudson had become a part of Sherlock's life, their brotherly banters had lost some of their vitriol and felt more like verbal games. John's presence always added an unexpected aspect to them. Mycroft could never tell if John would act as a mediator to the fights and play the good host, or side with Sherlock in trying to gleefully chase him out of the flat.
Speaking of the doctor, the surveillance team had managed to get their long distance eavesdropping gadgets running, so now Mycroft could hear snatches of what John was saying at the moment.
"I just want to see his face *crackle crackle* those questions. *crackle* being illogical and irrationality."
"But *crackle* wi-*crackle* I think I should *crackle*" Sherlock's voice answered him.
Mycroft had his brows furrowed in concentration. He could barely hear what was going on, and he could make very little out of what he could hear. John spoke again.
"I was present for three of *crackle* I just want to have *crackle crackle* kidnapping me!"
"Fine, but I'm *crackle* you."
Mycroft's brows were raised at that last exchange. Sherlock's tone was far too relaxed in response to John's statement about his own kidnapping. What on earth was going on? The ride could not end soon enough. He forced his mind to focus and not to come up with wild ideas of Sherlock and John making themselves baits to be kidnapped in a dangerous case dealing with the occult. There was no telling if the case involved human sacrifices or whatnot.
The car finally came to a stop in front of 221 and Mycroft got out of the car. He took a deep breath to compose himself, then he looked up at his brother's flat. The curtain was flapping in not one, but two windows. It seemed both residents of the flat were taking a peek outside at the same time. Well, it seemed that he was expected.
He went up the seventeen steps and faced the flat's door. He straightened his coat and hung his umbrella on his arm, stalling in order to fathom the best way to gauge Sherlock's madcap plans and to deter him from them. Right before he could take his hand off of his umbrella, the door of the flat opened to reveal Sherlock standing there, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.
Mycroft managed to swiftly regain his composure and mirror his brother's facial expression. He could see a gleam in Sherlock's eyes, and he did not like its implications. He could hear John frantically bustling about in the flat, blocked from view by Sherlock's body in the doorway.
Sherlock turned his head around to look at his flat-mate. After a moment, Mycroft heard John leave the living room and move to the kitchen. Sherlock shook his head in amusement at his friend. Mycroft felt a moment of sheer nosiness. He wanted to see what had transpired between Sherlock and John to result in his brother's amusement. When Sherlock turned his attention back to Mycroft, he arranged his face in a mockery of a polite expression. He smiled in an exaggerated way and said, "Brother dear, what a pleasant surprise to see you here! Please, do come in."
Mycroft's other eyebrow rose at Sherlock's odd tone, which was a perfect imitation of a very amateur actor in a school play, just the right mix of mechanical and forced enthusiasm.
Before he could make a snide comment on his brother's odd greeting, John appeared at the door beside Sherlock, "Hello, Mycroft. Can I take your umbrella for you?" John was wearing a wide grin on his face. It seemed John was going to back Sherlock up on whatever scheme he had. At least that was one mystery solved for today!
John and Sherlock moved away from the door and made way for Mycroft to enter their flat. Mycroft looked at them suspiciously for a moment, then moved into the flat. He took a cursory look around the flat in an attempt to deduce their plans. The wall on the right side was completely empty except for the yellow smiley face. There were no open case files or any crime scene photos littering the coffee table. On the contrary, the coffee table and the surrounding area were very neat. There were biscuits and scones, along with tea cups and saucers arraigned on the table.
Sherlock passed him and sat on the sofa. He indicated the chair opposite of himself, "Have a seat Mycroft." He said pleasantly.
Mycroft took the offered seat, "It seems as if you were expecting-" Mycroft noticed Sherlock's smirk and that annoying gleam in his eyes. Mycroft narrowed his eyes, "Me?" He had never been treated as a guest in Sherlock and John's flat before. He was even treated as an intruder to a fort once. Thank goodness he always carried his umbrella and there were no pedestrians passing by!
Before Mycroft could grill Sherlock any further, John entered with the tea. Mycroft watched the doctor place the tray on the coffee table and then take a seat on the sofa besides Sherlock. Sherlock and John regarded Mycroft with barely concealed glee. Mycroft looked back at them with growing suspicion. What were those two lunatics planning now?
"Would you like to be mother, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked with a smirk.
"No, thank you. I'll let you have a go at it this time." He retorted evenly.
"As you wish." Sherlock answered and carried on with the business of pouring and distributing tea. Mycroft waited for John and Sherlock to take a sip of their cups, then dared to take a sip of his own.
Mycroft looked up from behind his cup and saw John and Sherlock exchange a few quick facial expressions. Too bad he was worrying about the contents of his tea cup, or he would have gauged the non-verbal exchange. Oh well, there is always a next time.
"Well, Mycroft, I'm sure you're wondering why we're acting differently from our usual behavior towards you." John began.
Mycroft took another sip from his tea and waited for them to reveal the mess they have gotten themselves into. It was easier to get it out this way, rather than trying to deduce it.
"I hope you have a bit of time to spare." John continued.
"John, you're prolonging the agony!" Sherlock snapped.
Finally, Mycroft though, here comes the cat out of the bag. It must be a really bad case for them to stall this much.
"Mycroft, I have been conducting a social experiment which involves a questionnaire." Sherlock began, "So far I have interviewed John, Mrs. Hudson, and Detective inspector Lestrade. John has offered to help me in furthering my experiment by interviewing you."
Mycroft's hand stilled before his cup cold reach his lips. He put the cup back into the saucer and looked at the duo with narrowed eyes. "What kind of questions are on this questionnaire of yours?"
John had a mischievous smile on his face, "I tell you some hypothetical situations and you tell us what your reaction would be in those situations."
Mycroft raised an eyebrow. This was completely unexpected. The duo never took such indirect routs to introduce their requests; that was more Mycroft's style. It was rather unsettling for him to see his brother and his friend use such tactics. He needed to get to the bottom of this business quickly.
"Sherlock," Mycroft began in a long suffering tone, "What have you done?"
"Me?" Sherlock asked with a scowl, "Nothing, other than devising a questionnaire."
"If you are in trouble, you should tell me." Mycroft continued in his previous tone. "I can help you no matter what ever it is you have gotten yourself mixed up with."
"Why would you think I have myself mixed up in anything? I am not-" Sherlock began to rant.
"Dealing with the occult can be rather dangerous, you know. Those involved in it have absolutely no-"
"Wait, what?" John interrupted Mycroft, "Where did you get the notion of the Occult?"
"From your discussion with detective inspector Lestrade, of course." Mycroft answered him smugly.
"Oh bloody hell," John grumbled, "There goes that!"
"I should have gotten up to heat the tar this time." Sherlock mused, "Much more amusing than the yellow water."
"I come here to offer you my assistance in dealing with a dangerous group of criminals dabbling in the occult, and you are planning the substance you want to dump on me from your window?" Mycroft asked outraged, "I'm the ally here, not an intruder!"
"Wait, what criminals? We haven't had a case for weeks!" John exclaimed.
Sherlock steepled his fingers under his chin and cocked his head, "Exactly what did you hear from our conversation from Lestrade?"
"Enough to form an assumption." Mycroft answered cryptically.
"Ah, never assume brother dear." Sherlock said delighted, "But, on what evidence did you exactly form your assumptions?" He pressed.
"You were talking to the DI for a rather long time. That suggests you were discussing a case." Mycroft started.
"Maybe he was here on a social visit." Sherlock countered.
"With you interacting as well?" Mycroft said with a raised eyebrow, "Not likely." He added haughtily. "The words 'blood bags, full moon, wings, and Voldemert' were picked up from that conversation. They suggest involvement in a case that relates to the occult."
"Hmm, that's an interesting interpretation of the evidence." John mused. "It makes me wish it was true."
"Those were related to the content of our questionnaire, Mycroft." Sherlock told him evenly. "I assure you, there is absolutely no connection between those words and a case. It makes me wish there was, but there isn't"
Mycroft put his teacup and it's saucer on the coffee table. He leaned forward and scrutinized Sherlock for a moment. Then he suddenly turned his gaze to John's face. John was a terrible liar; he couldn't hide a piece of information without a lot of practice no matter what. John was surprised by Mycroft's sudden shift of gaze, but that was the only reaction he got. The doctor wasn't hiding anything.
It was just a silly questionnaire after all. There were no criminals, no fighting Sherlock to accept help, and no immediate danger. For once it seemed his presence was welcomed. Unless the tea was actually laced with something that- No, he was not going there, he was determined to enjoy this rare occasion of being a welcomed guest at 221B Baker Street.
Mycroft picked up his tea, took a sip, placed the tea cup down, took a deep breath and looked at John, "Alright then, ask away!"
John cleared his throat, raised the stack of papers for his questionnaire, and straightened in his seat, "What would your reaction be if I was a vampire?"
"Have you bitten Sherlock?" Mycroft shot back.
"No."
"Would you burst into flames if you go into sunlight?"
"No."
"Holly water, cross?"
"No."
"What kind of a vampire are you then?" Mycroft asked.
"One of a kind!" John said gleefully, "And I'm the interviewer her, I'm not being interrogated by you." He reminded Mycroft.
"Fine," Mycroft huffed, "So how do you feed?"
"Blood bags, and before you ask, mine and Sherlock's blood types are not compatible, so I won't bite him."
"Why do I need to know you're a vampire?"
"Why does every one ask that inane question?" Sherlock threw his hands up in exasperation, "You found out by accident, what would your reaction be?"
"Interrogate him to make sure he wouldn't bite you!" Mycroft retorted. "Now that I know he won't, I don't care about the rest."
John hid a smile behind his papers, then he composed himself and barged on, "What would your reaction be if you accidentally found out I was a wizard?"
"That's not possible." Mycroft replied calmly.
"Imagine that magic existed, and that I was a wizard, what-"
"No, I mean, there wouldn't be an accidental discovery. I would know if you were a wizard or not." Mycroft interrupted John in the same imperious tone.
John narrowed his eyes at him, "Do you have contact with the ministry of magic as well?"
Mycroft smirked, "Wouldn't you like to know!"
John shrugged, "Fair enough. What would you do if you found out I was a telepath?"
Mycroft snorted derisively.
"Yeah…I'm not going to ask you for any further elaboration on that." John said testily, "Alright, How would you react if I was a shape-shifter."
"What would you shift into, a wolf?"
"No, that would make me a werewolf, not a shape-shifter." John answered.
"There are shape-shifters who can only shift into wolves." Mycroft insisted.
"Oh my- you've read the Twilight series!" John said incredulously.
Mycroft paused, "No."
"Yes, you have! That bit is only in the book, not in the movie." John pressed.
"So, have you read the books as well?" Mycroft said with a smirk.
"No, my sister has. And she wouldn't let up about it for months!"
"I didn't know you had a taste for vampire romances Mycroft!" Sherlock said delighted, "I'll ask my contact for a list of books and films for you." He finished with a snigger.
Mycroft gave a disdainful sniff, "Says the man who composed a questionnaire compiled of questions involving vampires and shape-shifters."
Sherlock sobered up and glared at Mycroft.
"Okay, moving on!" John intervened. "I'm not a wolf, what animal would you say I shifted into?"
"A Siberian Husky."
John tilted his head and processed that for a moment, "Alright then. What would your reaction be if I said I had wings?"
"What sort of wings?"
"Thanks for skipping the Red Bull joke." John shot back cheerily, "They'll be dragonfly wings."
"Dragonfly wings?" Mycroft asked with disapproval. "But those won't be strong enough to lift you from the ground. You need bird-like wings, with muscles and feathers."
"That's what I keep telling him!" Sherlock interjected.
"I don't want angel wings, they'll be impossible to hide." John said firmly. "And the bulk would be inconvenient."
"Why would you want to hide them, they'll have a great visual effect. No criminal would stand a chance against a stern, white winged, gun-wielding soldier." Mycroft said persuasively.
John raised an eyebrow, "I can't possibly imagine why they call you two dramatic." Then he frowned "Um, why white wings?" John asked tentatively.
"You're blond" Sherlock answered.
"Yeah, but my hair is ash-blond, not platinum-blond. If anything, my wings would be tan, not white."
"That'll be easily fixed, we'll bleach them." Mycroft suggested.
"No way!" John yelled, "I won't have you bleaching my wings! I've seen the agony my sister went through with bleaching, and re-coloring her hair when she wanted to add highlights to her hair. That stuff burns, and you want to put it all over my wings?" John ranted, while having his arms wrapped around his middle and his back hunched. If one was fanciful (which the Holmes boys weren't (actually were)) one could see John having wrapped his wings tightly around himself.
"It's settled, you'll have gold tinged angel wings." Mycroft said calmly, and leaned back in his chair.
"What? No, I never-what?" John spluttered.
"Come off it John, they'll look great." Sherlock coaxed.
"They'll be bulky and inconvenient." John shot back.
"They're better than those insect wings you insist on." Sherlock countered.
"Why do you care what kind of wings I'll have? You have your angel wings and I'll have my dragonfly wings."
"But then you wouldn't match!" Mycroft teased.
John and Sherlock glared at Mycroft, then composed themselves.
John muttered something under his breath that vaguely sounded like "manipulative bastards", then looked at the papers and read, "What would your reaction be if I was an alien from outer space?"
"Well," Mycroft began carefully, "As an employee of the British government and a directive of the Baskervill-"
"Hold it right there, Mycroft. I will personally lobotomize you if I have to, in order to wipe that piece of information out of your brain!" Sherlock ranted.
"You didn't let me-" Mycroft tried to interject.
"You know I can get out of here on my space craft and leave if it gets too dangerous for me to stay, right?" John reasoned in an attempt to calm Sherlock.
Sherlock snorted, "No you wouldn't, because it'll be dangerous!"
John gave him a look, "I wouldn't risk the discovery of my species by humans."
"You just betrayed your secret to Mycroft, of all people! And now you're going to end up in a cage in Baskervill!" Sherlock raged. John merely looked at him. After a pause Sherlock added sheepishly, "Again."
"No he wouldn't." Mycroft intervened. "You never let me finish my sentence. I was going to say it'll be an inconvenient burden to carry."
Sherlock deflated, "Oh!" he said lamely.
"Yes, and it would be best for everyone if I deleted the information. No need for Lobotomy or a mind meld." Mycroft continued.
"I'm not a Vulcan, I don't do mind melding." John said with a smile, "I'm a Time Lord!"
Mycroft snorted, "That explains quite a few things for me!"
"You don't happen to have a position with Torchwood as well, now, do you?" John asked tentatively.
"I will neither confirm nor deny that, doctor!" Mycroft answered smoothly.
John huffed out a laugh in response, "Alright, next question. What would your reaction be if I was an android?"
Mycroft smirked, "You, an automaton?"
"Yes, I had the best AI scientists as my programmers." John said seriously.
Mycroft gave him a measuring look, "What is your point exactly?"
"Hey!" Both John and Sherlock said in unison, offended.
"I didn't mean to offend. I'm merely asking that what end did the manufacturers had in mind by producing you?"
John and Sherlock just looked at him for a beat.
"You really need to work on your delivery, Mycroft." John admonished him. "Alright, I was designed to be a field medic, and a sniper when needed. After I got shot, there was a malfunction in my programming. So I escaped my manufacturers and came here to London. Sherlock helped with my program bugs and now I'm living and working with him."
Mycroft looked like he was going to be sick from all of the romanticized drivel gone in that back story. He looked to Sherlock and saw he was looking very neutral. "Did you come up with this?"
"I only came up with the android part. John has complete responsibility for the back story and logic of the fiction." Sherlock said with a hint of amusement.
Mycroft scoffed, "You enjoy having the part of the rouge supper AI programmer in that plot."
Sherlock shrugged at him and didn't comment.
Mycroft turned back to John, "So, you have been given the appearance of a normal human, and have the programming to function in society, in addition to your skill sets?"
"Yes, that about sums it up." John said uncertainly.
Mycroft put his hands together and pressed their sides to his lips and thought for few moments, then he looked up at John, "I want the contact information of your manufacturer."
"What for?" John asked.
"For safety reasons, we can't have you malfunctioning now, can we?" Mycroft's pause before his answer was barely a moment, but Sherlock caught it.
"Oh, don't worry, Sherlock can handle it. I escaped from there after all." John said airily, "Unless of course you want rid of me so bad that you want to hand me back over to them?"
"No, of course not!" Mycroft said with genuine alarm.
"No, he doesn't want to send you back, he wants to place an order." Sherlock said, realization dawning on him.
Mycroft sent Sherlock a mild glare and didn't respond.
"Place an- but why would you want two of me?" John asked confused.
"To have a backup." Mycroft answered smoothly.
John raised an eyebrow and Sherlock snorted at that. John began to feel uneasy, "Why would you need a backup?" he asked slowly. "What am I supposed to be doing that would require a backup?" he asked alarmed.
Mycroft colored slightly and shifted in his chair.
Sherlock's lips stretched in a mischievous smile, "He's lying, John." He continued after catching John's confused look, "Well, sort of. He does want to place an order, but it's not for having a "back up" as he puts it. He wants a-shall we say- an extra." Sherlock finished with a satisfied smile.
John blinked and tried to process that information. This questionnaire had turned out much more confusing that he initially thought, how on earth had Sherlock managed to make- wait! Sherlock, Sherlock's questionnaire, Sherlock's intent behind devising the whole thing- realization downed on John. He had forgotten the objective of the experiment in their excited flurry of pre-Mycroft's-arrival preparations.
John's face lit up with a slow smile. He turned towards Sherlock, "I think there is no need to continue with the experiment, I think I gathered all the data I could."
"Are you sure, John?" Sherlock asked him, "There are still a lot of items left on the list. I think you have yet to reach your objective of the experiment."
John snorted, "Yeah, I think that a new experiment has to be designed for that. I got the result that the initial objective of this experiment can produce."
Mycroft was confused by their abrupt change of jargon. He didn't want to show it, so he took a sip of his cooling tea and waited to see if any clarification was forthcoming.
John turned towards Mycroft, "You know… the good thing about friends is that they can be mutual."
Mycroft blinked and failed to hide his confusion.
"What I'm saying is that just because I'm Sherlock's friend, doesn't mean I can't be anyone else's." John clarified.
"Clearly," Mycroft said derisively, "That is why you have such an active social life."
"I have other friends besides Sherlock, and I keep interacting with them." John answered calmly, "I go to the pub with Greg Lestrade, I go see Mike Stamford, and I see my old army pals from time to time."
"You get kidnapped for tea." Sherlock continued.
"You don't get to finish a date." Mycroft countered, but in the same tone as the flat-mates were listing John's social life.
"True, but having friends is different from having girlfriends." John conceded, "There is no exclusivity in having friends." He finished with a smile.
"Indeed." Mycroft said from behind his palms, pressed together in front of his nose, their sides in front of his face. He looked at John pensively and his face lit up with a small smile, "Does this mean you wouldn't dump boiling oil on my head whenever I come around?"
"Well…" John seemed hesitant, "That depends…"
"On whether you'll help us in an enterprise." Sherlock finished John's sentence.
Ah, finally! I knew they had gotten themselves into trouble. Mycroft cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. "What sort of enterprise do you have in mind?" He asked diplomatically.
John and Sherlock looked to each other. Mycroft realized a silent conversation had begun going on between Sherlock and John. He tried to amuse himself by deciphering what they were communicating.
Sherlock looked at John, then indicated Mycroft by a flick of his eyes, trying to suppress a smirk. Tell him.
John took a sip of his tea, cast Mycroft a glance, looked at Sherlock and furrowed his brows at him, then looked back at his cup. I can't.
Sherlock raised his eyebrows at him, then tilted his head and cast him a pointed look. You asked for it. Or was it, you volunteered for it.
John's lip twitched, he then took in a deep breath, and looked at Sherlock steadily. Back me up on this. Or maybe, you're in it as well.
Sherlock gave him a serious nod. Of course.
They both turned their full attention to Mycroft.
"As you know," John began, "This questionnaire was presented to me, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade so far. We intended to present it to a few more of our acquaintances, but we fear they might not be very keen on helping us with this social experiment."
"So, we thought to change our approach," Sherlock continued seriously, "We decided to devise an environment where our subjects can go through the questions in a more rapid pace."
Mycroft sagged in his seat, albeit very slightly, so slightly that only those who knew him very well (like John and Sherlock) would notice (which they did). "Who are these test subjects, might I ask?"
"Sargent Donovan, Anderson, and whoever is on the drugs-squad on that particular day." Sherlock answered.
"You want to subject your tormentors in the Yard to your questionnaire." Mycroft clarified.
"In a way that they are forced to answer, whether they want to or not." Sherlock conceded.
Mycroft's eyes lit in realization. He smirked at the resident lunatics of 221B, "I take it DI Lestrade has agreed to help you in this little experiment?"
"Yes, and I believe Mrs. Hudson would be delighted to help if we ask her." Sherlock replied with a mischievous grin. "We thought your resources would be a great addition."
"Not to mention your presence. It will add more items to the questionnaire." John added smoothly.
Mycroft thought for less than three seconds. A chance to participate in a prank that he had devised alongside Sherlock and his friends, an opportunity to get back on his brother's bullies in a hands on and juvenile manner, and the prospect of becoming a semi welcome guest at 221B with no fear of questionable liquids being dumped on his head. He might even extract a favor out of it, but that would risk losing his dry-passage-to-the-flat-rights. No, it was best to forgo that for now.
"So, you want to reenact the questionnaire with all of those that have already participated in the experiment, for your new subjects." Mycroft summed up.
"Yes, it's going to have some rather interesting special effects involved." Sherlock explained. John nodded enthusiastically.
Mycroft leaned forward, "Alright, what do you have in mind?"
I am so sorry for the huge gap between these chapters; it was so difficult to get Mycroft to cooperate with this social experiment!
I would greatly welcome any suggestions for the pranks Team Baker Street can pull on the Yarders. By the way, I'm going to use pre-season 3 Anderson for the next chapter, since this story takes place before TRF.