Author's Note: I'm sorry if it's a bit short for now, I promise to make a longer one soon! Thanks for the lovely reviews so far, they were astonishingly positive, hopefully I can live up to the expectations... Obviously, I don't own anything.
"Fortune cookies?" the tall man with umbrella asked again, a veil of both disbelief and worries drawn over his face.
"Yes, Mycroft. John and I went for dinner last night at the Chinese. We were offered fortune cookies by the owner of the restaurant, we went home, went to bed early, woke up early," the blonde explained, wearily.
"Took some drugs?" The elder brother just couldn't get it, and still blamed the drugs. Well, it was the only possible explanation.
"No." John exhaled deeply. "We woke up, and it turned out we swopped bodies."
Mycroft's mouth twitched in annoyed disbelief. "Prove it."
John inhaled deeply. "You woke up after only two hours sleep on the sofa, had breakfast very quickly, brushed your teeth in the limo, finished three," here the blogger paused for a bit, "no, four brownies at work, saw the file about the murdered MP on your desk and came, after a rather long, I suspect tedious, meeting to me to ask me for my help, and sorry, I can't do it. I promised John we wouldn't leave the flat until we swopped back into our own bodies."
The tall man started to chuckle, which caused the blogger to narrow his eyes.
"There, your first mistake. You have left today before I came. Lestrade needed help, indeed with the murdered MP. You two have been to the crime scene."
The blonde's blue eyes quickly scanned Mycroft's features. "You still don't believe me," he simply stated, ignoring the question.
"No." The elder Holmes shaked his head.
"Well, John always has been more reliable than me."
"That's true. But knowing my little brother, John could be easily persuaded. And it's highly unlikely that two people swop places. Doesn't happen in real life."
"Seems a bit dull. And besides: when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be true. Deduce me."
John stood up, spread his arms a little and looked at Mycroft.
"But…" Suddenly the man understood. He gaped at John, or better said: his younger brother. "You have left the flat, helping Lestrade."
"Yes.." the blonde slowly said, suddenly sounding very much like Sherlock now. "We have." A sigh escaped him. "And traumatising it was…"