Again I must thank you all for all the positive response this fic is getting. It's staggering how many of you followed and faved this story and even added it to your communities. And the reviews! Did I ever mention how much I adore them?

(Lourdes08) Thanks! :)

(DMacX) I'm so happy you considered reading the story, and even happier that you weren't disappointed by your choice :)
And what can I say... poor Sherlock, there is always something :D

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(A Reader) Thank you so much :) I hope the story will stay interesting.

CHAPTER 6

Harry looked taken aback and Mycroft sported an affronted expression on his face.

"I'm sorry," said their visitor at least. "I really didn't want you to get the wrong impression." It sounded sincere enough to John, but one could not be sure.

"Don't worry about it," said the elder Holmes. "My brother always likes to imagine me as some sort of villain. I fear that because of our association you were thrown into the same category."

Harry raised his eyebrows as if to say 'Well you kind of are.'

John thought that Mycroft rather deserved to be regarded carefully, what with the hobby of kidnapping Sherlock's friends (He once shared stories with Molly and Greg in pub... it was an amusing conversation, though the bartender watched them warily for the whole time and surely must've thought them crazy for trying to one-up each other with their 'Close Encounters of the Mycroft Kind'. Until then he honestly thought that nothing could top the abandoned warehouse story, but Greg proved him wrong. And even if Molly didn't have such an extravagant experience, she was able to share more stories, having quite a few of those meetings during Sherlock's 'absence' – John refused to call it by any other name.) Then there was the whole 'British Government' thing with cameras and missile plans and flights full of dead people. So was it really so unbelievable that they would think that whatever brought those two here was either borderline illegal or at least morally ambiguous – most possibly both or even worse – and they just wanted Sherlock to do their dirty work for them?

"That explanation, if you don't mind," said Sherlock impatiently.

"Right," sighed Harry. "Honestly, I would prefer if you had some sort of a warning..." he glanced at Mycroft, who regained his composure and watched him to struggle with something akin to amusement.

"I could have done that," he admitted freely, "but I rather thought that my brother deserves the surprise. After all, it doesn't happen often, that someone is able to successfully shock him."

"Right," said the man again. Then he sighed. "Guess it will need to work this way. By the way, your sense of humour needs to improve. I don't think it is considered okay being amused by watching others suffer," he accused.

"I don't believe this will cause any suffering to either John or my brother," remarked Mycroft.

That exchange momentarily distracted both inhabitants of Baker Street from the problem at hand. John was in shock (definitely! friends there... The British Government has a friend... unbelievable). Sherlock was baffled – where did his brother find a man that could not only stand him, but banter with him lightly as well? He wondered briefly how they met and what happened to create such an easy camaraderie (for the lack of better words). It was unheard of! But he dismissed the thought in the favour of the recent mystery.

"You know I was actually talking about myself, right?" clarified Harry. "Okay. Well, you both signed the agreement, didn't you?" he asked seriously.

They nodded.

"Good," he nodded, "that's good." He stalled, but finally took a deep breath and decided to just say it, "Well, the thing is there is a society hidden from the everyday world you know. It consists of witches and wizards. Of course many beings and creatures are also a part of this world, but they are all hidden, because, quite honestly, the exposure would create havoc. Usually only closest non-magical family members and a few key members of your Government are aware of this, but the general public is clueless. I assure you that the secret is guarded carefully. Your brother vouched for you, and it took a lot of effort – but here we are."

Whatever reaction Harry expected, it wasn't Sherlock Holmes and John Watson exchanging a glance and simultaneously bursting out laughing.

"Oh, this is brilliant, Mycroft," said Sherlock in-between the giggles. "Just wonderful... where did you get this actor?" He couldn't believe that all this was just a build-up leading to a practical joke – from Mycroft, no less. He must be getting rusty, because he definitely didn't see this coming. Mycroft – a joke – unbelievable. How did he even miss this – oh, they played their parts excellently. Not a hint of lie visible – he looked at them carefully once again. It was as if they both were absolutely convicted of the truth of Harry Potter's words. But that can't be... surely not...

Meanwhile John added his two cents, "Wherever do you have your pointy hat, Harry? And what about the wand? Do you have one?" Another fit of laughter overwhelmed him. "Oh... oooh... do you use brooms? Shall I borrow one for you from Mrs Hudson?" If anyone asked John yesterday if he could imagine himself at the receiving end of a prank conceived by Mycroft Holmes, he would tell them to get their head checked. Mycroft Holmes was nothing but serious (albeit slightly on the dramatic side) and John sincerely doubted that the word 'fun' was in his dictionary. He probably had torn that page out and burned it in a fiery fire a long time ago. But apparently that was not the case.

Harry Potter looked hopelessly at the elder Holmes, but he just shrugged back, as if to say 'prove it to them'.

The green-eyed man sighed, and glanced at the duo. John still had a huge grin on his face, probably expected them to call the whole charade off. But the younger Holmes brother was watching him intently... He addressed them. "The 'pointy hats' are used very seldom... and they are quite annoying, so I am really glad it's not more often. The broom of your landlady wouldn't work. It needs not only to be specifically charmed, but designed too – we have the broom companies to make those." He took a deep breath, "And as a matter of fact, I do have a wand." He took his trusted holly wand out and before the men reacted, he wordlessly levitated the skull from the mantelpiece right in front of the detective, where the surprised man snatched it from the thin air.