"I don't want to say it."
"You have to."
"It's stupid. This is stupid."
As promised, Mycroft had returned to Baker Street and delivered his manual. Though it hadn't been a simple textbook as Sherlock had foolishly imagined, 'manual' apparently involving being 'manually' manhandled into a car (after much protest involving shouting and flailing mechanical arms) by a team of his staff.
Sherlock eventually ceased when Mycroft threatened to throw him in a bath and short circuit him. An empty threat, as Sherlock had safely showered that morning - but best not take any chances.
Once calm, or thereabouts, Mycroft had explained that he was taking Sherlock to Teddington - where the lab currently funding the GADGET project required an audience with him. Or rather, they required him to stand in a stupid looking, skintight suit while half of Scotland Yard watched him behind a glass panel. The GADGET project, apparently, had been built with the Yard's improvement in mind.
Sherlock had then gone on to make a comment less that positive about such improvements.
"Say it." Mycroft once again reminds him, the only one behind the panel with him. Sherlock ignores him, sulking in the silly suit and cutting scornful looks to the glass window every now and then. He cannot see through the one-way glass, but he knows someone in there is giggling.
"Why did they send you in for this ridiculous tutoring? It's insulting."
Mycroft turns his eyes up to the ceiling in passive annoyance. "Because I'm the only one here that isn't afraid of you."
"You should be." He responds with his first look of pleasure since arriving.
"And you need to learn how to activate and control your more larger contraptions, Sherlock. Spawning teaspoons and tweezers won't aid you in the long run." Lifting his brows in impatience, Mycroft says for the final time. "Now, you know what to say. Bionic implants are expensive, we need to know that they work properly so that we can develop the necassary updates."
An indiscreet eyeroll, "Nice to know I'm your prototype." Sherlock had been purposely ignoring Mycroft's instructions. With half an hour wasted, and no progress to be had, the older Holmes looks at the clock, sighs and waves a hand to the window. Concluding the session.
Sherlock immediately removes the headflap of the suit, letting his curls riot loose. He seems quite satisfied, as opposed to Lestrade who walks in the side door looking less than pleased. Anderson following in his wake.
"Sherlock, really. Can't you just cooperate?" The DI pleads, the sad little notepad in his hand remaining empty. "All we needed you to say, was 'Go. Go. Gadget' .. and then whatever! We're not asking too much, are we?"
"It'll take a lot more than overpriced cybernetics to improve your squad, Lestrade." Sherlock says rather unkindly, passing a glance over the hanging Anderson. "I'd start by getting rid of your fool on forensics. He only sleeps with your sargeants."
"Oh, you can talk! You're the one that looks like an idiot right now." Anderson snaps from behind Lestrade's shoulder. "Now you're a motor-driven freak."
Not a second later does Mycroft cut in with a loud cough, raising his wristwatch and calmly stating, "This session is quite over. Detective Inspector." He smiles and leads the frustrated man out, the suave utterances of 'apology' and 'uncooperative' following them out. Anderson hangs back, staring at Sherlock in a way that he supposes is meant to knock his confidence. Before muttering another 'freak' comment and beginning to follow them out.
As soon as he turns his back, Sherlock raises his fist and coughs into his other, appearing inconspicuous. "Go Go Gadget Brass Knuckles."
His clenched hand flies off, and punches Anderson at the back of the head.