Hello again! Sorry I took a long time to update, I'm very busy ATM! Sorry Harry had to go, there was no room in the 'plot' for her and it was easier to write for me! Don't burn me for it! Enjoy and please R&R!
John, groaned, rolling over, and slowly placed his feet on the cold wooden floor, which contrasted greatly with the comfortable warmth of Sherlock's sleeping body. He resentfully hated the unknown person who had been ringing the doorbell for the last 5 minutes solid. This better be important, or he was going to be seriously pissed off. Sherlock still lay in bed, dozing, not even attempting to stand up, even though John knew he had also heard the whining doorbell. Pulling on Sherlock's dressing gown, he trudged down to the door, rubbing his eyes free of sleep. Yawning loudly, he peered round the door. Through the bleary haze of tiredness, he saw Mycroft patiently standing there, swinging his umbrella. He resisted the urge to swear loudly. Opening the door wider, he gestured Mycroft inside.
"What's wrong now Mycroft?" he disliked being rude to Sherlock's older brother, but there were limits to social etiquettes when it was 6 o'clock in the morning. Mycroft's face twisted into a Cheshire cat grin, which always succeeds in freaking John out.
"Oh no, nothing at all, I just wanted to pay you and my dear little brother a visit. I also believe your sister is staying as well?" Mycroft chuckled. John cringed inwardly. He sincerely hoped Sherlock hadn't the 'little' word Mycroft had used. Sherlock hated being belittled by anyone, especially Mycroft.
"No, Harry left yesterday. Would you like a cup of tea, Mycroft?"
"No thank you, John, I'm quite alright." John thought he would never get used to a polite Holmes. Sherlock certainly wasn't.
He gestured to the sofa. "Please, sit down." Mycroft obliged. John hollered to Sherlock, "Sherlock, get up, Mycroft's here,"
"Well tell him to piss off then! It's six o'clock in the bloody morning!" John groaned inwardly. Why was Sherlock always like this? Mycroft merely laughed. "Always so polite," he chuckled.
"I'm sorry Mycroft, he's always like this in the mornings," John sat in his usual armchair, propping his head against the union jack cushion.
"I'm terribly sorry I've come at a rather... inconvenient time John,"
"It's fine. I never get much sleep when Sherlock's around anyway."
"I gathered." Mycroft had his Cheshire cat smile on again. He looked pointedly at Sherlock's silk dressing gown, which John was wearing. The two exchanged a wordless glance. Mycroft knew. Oh, God, John thought, he might as well shout it out to the whole of London for all the secret was worth. Thankfully, at that moment, Sherlock stalked out of the bedroom in John's flannel pyjama bottoms, which were two inches to short. The expression on his face showed he was clearly displeased with his brother's disturbance.
"Hello brother. How's the diet? John, please lock cupboards. We don't have enough food as it is." Sherlock spat out the words directed at Mycroft.
"Good morning Sherlock," Mycroft grinned at him. John shut off his brain. Here comes another bloody row.
"I've come to ask you and John if you would do me he pleasure of attending dinner at my house on Monday 18th." He looked at Sherlock. "Mummy will be there." John was slightly startled. Dinner with the Holmes family? And he would finally meet the infamous mother of the Holmes brothers. A formidable woman, he was sure. The expression on Sherlock's face was a comical sight. "Dinner with you?" he cringed. Mycroft nodded. "Yes, Sherlock, dinner with me and Mummy. My house. Will you come or not?"
Sherlock nodded, and Mycroft grinned triumphantly. "Only because Mummy's there," Sherlock retorted.
"Excellent. Mummy will finally get to meet John. Good day chaps," And with that Mycroft was gone.
"Dinner?" John asked.
"Yes, John, dinner with my family. It shouldn't be that bad."
John sighed. Dinner with the Holmes family. That would be interesting.
Hope you enjoyed, and yes, the next chapter will be the dinner!