Mycroft showed up just as she was clearing her plate into a sink full of dirty dishes and a strange green substance that she was pretty sure came from the bottom of the Thames. He rapped once on the door, waited politely for Mrs. Hudson to let him in and show him up the stairs, then swept into the room with an air of confidence so pronounced that she could practically feel it radiating off of him.
“Sherlock. Mr. and Mrs. Watson. Good afternoon.”
John mumbled a greeting, taking up a seat at the kitchen table beside her, Mary nodded in the man’s direction, and Sherlock very pointedly ignored his big brother. Mycroft stepped into the room, pulling the client chair over and taking a seat before he turned to address the consulting detective.
“Sherlock, I believe you know why I am here.” When the sulking detective didn’t reply, Mycroft continued. “I have a very sensitive case for you. If you’ll go visit Inspector Lestrade, he will provide you with the details of-“
“Not going.”
“What do you mean ‘not going’?”
“Don’t be purposely daft, Mycroft. Someone has to stay with Mary, and I take John on all my cases.”
“Sherlock…”
“Mrs. Hudson does the shopping on Saturdays, Molly is out of town, Lestrade is working, and Janine is sick with the flu,” Sherlock continued. “Your ‘case’ will have to wait.”
“No, it will not. Now get your coat on and go over there right now. I will stay here and watch after Mrs. Watson for you.”
Sherlock opened his mouth to protest, closed it, opened it, closed it again, and finally snapped out “Why would you do that?” as he shot a glare at his brother.
“Because I need this case taken care of,” Mycroft shrugged, crossing his right leg over his left and folding his hands together on his knee. “And unless you have someone here with Mary, neither of you is going to leave.”
“I’ll be fine, John,” Mary jumped in, giving her husband’s knee a squeeze. “Go on, the pair of you.”
“You sure?” he asked. She nodded.
“Absolutely. You boys go have fun.”
“This had better be at least a seven,” Sherlock growled, lurching to his feet and throwing on his coat. “John, come along. We should be back in a few hours. Mycroft....”
“I’m sure Mary and I will get along swimmingly,” he smiled, getting to his feet as John shrugged his coat on. “Do try not to cause a scene, Sherlock. The idea is to close this case quickly and quietly.”
Sherlock waved a hand at him dismissively and bounded down the stairs to hail a cab.
“Be back soon, love,” John whispered, leaning to kiss her. “Don’t take anything Mycroft says personally. He’s only just marginally more polite than Sherlock.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. You boys be safe.”
She watched as John darted down the stairs to echoes of Sherlock yelling about how slow he was being. The sound of a taxi door slamming echoed up through the open window, and then they were gone. Mary turned her attention to Mycroft.
Things We Don't Say 11/?
“Sherlock. Mr. and Mrs. Watson. Good afternoon.”
John mumbled a greeting, taking up a seat at the kitchen table beside her, Mary nodded in the man’s direction, and Sherlock very pointedly ignored his big brother.
Mycroft stepped into the room, pulling the client chair over and taking a seat before he turned to address the consulting detective.
“Sherlock, I believe you know why I am here.” When the sulking detective didn’t reply, Mycroft continued. “I have a very sensitive case for you. If you’ll go visit Inspector Lestrade, he will provide you with the details of-“
“Not going.”
“What do you mean ‘not going’?”
“Don’t be purposely daft, Mycroft. Someone has to stay with Mary, and I take John on all my cases.”
“Sherlock…”
“Mrs. Hudson does the shopping on Saturdays, Molly is out of town, Lestrade is working, and Janine is sick with the flu,” Sherlock continued. “Your ‘case’ will have to wait.”
“No, it will not. Now get your coat on and go over there right now. I will stay here and watch after Mrs. Watson for you.”
Sherlock opened his mouth to protest, closed it, opened it, closed it again, and finally snapped out “Why would you do that?” as he shot a glare at his brother.
“Because I need this case taken care of,” Mycroft shrugged, crossing his right leg over his left and folding his hands together on his knee. “And unless you have someone here with Mary, neither of you is going to leave.”
“I’ll be fine, John,” Mary jumped in, giving her husband’s knee a squeeze. “Go on, the pair of you.”
“You sure?” he asked. She nodded.
“Absolutely. You boys go have fun.”
“This had better be at least a seven,” Sherlock growled, lurching to his feet and throwing on his coat. “John, come along. We should be back in a few hours. Mycroft....”
“I’m sure Mary and I will get along swimmingly,” he smiled, getting to his feet as John shrugged his coat on. “Do try not to cause a scene, Sherlock. The idea is to close this case quickly and quietly.”
Sherlock waved a hand at him dismissively and bounded down the stairs to hail a cab.
“Be back soon, love,” John whispered, leaning to kiss her. “Don’t take anything Mycroft says personally. He’s only just marginally more polite than Sherlock.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. You boys be safe.”
She watched as John darted down the stairs to echoes of Sherlock yelling about how slow he was being. The sound of a taxi door slamming echoed up through the open window, and then they were gone.
Mary turned her attention to Mycroft.
“Well then. Shall we begin?”