Author's Note:

This ficlet is set in an already established universe (currently being rewritten), but can be read as an independent story. There is already an established Sherlock/OFC. However, if you don't want spoilers for the story called The Mutual Suicide Pact, then read no further.

~ Happy birthday, IzabellSageGubler713! ~

-o-

Change The Subject, Now!

"What in dear God's name is that?"

Her brother-in-law's clipped upper class tone drifted in from the landing as Violet tidied up the living room table. She straightened up and offered him a smile.

"Hi, Mycroft! It's my goldfish. Sherlock bought him for me."

"Goldfish?" Mycroft furrowed his brow as he glanced at the empty fishtank. Perhaps he needed to get his eyes checked. He crossed the threshold and strode into the living room of 221B, steeling himself for the inevitable.

"I call him Winnie," Violet said, with a twinkle in her eye.

"Winnie?"

Mycroft clenched his jaw as Violet descended on him. He slowly blinked and stiffened as he had to once again endure the affections of his over-enthusiastic sister-in-law. Perfume and soap and shampoo floated out from her like little bubbles of joy. How did Sherlock cope with this on a daily basis? Is that why he bought her a goldfish?

"Speaking of entrapped domesticated creatures," he said, "where is my brother?"

Violet huffed a small laugh as she left the living room to prepare tea. "Oh, very funny, Mycroft," she called back. "He said he had to dash out to the shops or something. He'll be back shortly."

Mycroft wrinkled his nose. "Shopping? Sherlock?"

"Did you want just one cup, or will you be staying long enough to share a pot of tea with me?"

Mycroft strolled over to the fireplace and sank into John Watson's old armchair. "One cup will be fine, thank you. I won't be staying long. I have an old case from on the continent I need to discuss with Sherlock."

"Oh, what's this doing out again?" Violet muttered to herself, moving a hair dryer from the kitchen counter to the dining table. "I thought I threw it out."

Mycroft turned his head at the sound of footsteps rapidly ascending the stairs. He raised his eyebrows in surprise as his younger brother strode in. Instead of fixing Mycroft with a disdainful sneer, Sherlock's eyes darted toward the kitchen. Mycroft noticed that he held something behind his back.

Sherlock's voice sounded strained on the way out. "Where...?"

"Is that you, Sherlock?" Violet called from the kitchen.

Sherlock swallowed hard and crossed the living room to join Violet. Mycroft took one look at the object Sherlock was holding, and he swiftly stood up.

"On second thoughts, I may have to skip tea, Violet," he said. "I just remembered I'm late for an appointment with the ambassador to Australia."

He was about to retrieve his pocket watch to lend credence to his assertion, when Sherlock turned to him and fixed him with a challenging gaze. "Isn't he back in Canberra?"

"Well, let's all just have tea first," Violet said pleasantly, ignoring the exchange of icy stares between the two Holmes siblings. "Sherlock, what's that out for? It's broken, remember? You wore out the motor trying to dry shoelaces or something. " She indicated the hair dryer before retrieving another tea cup from the cabinet above the bench.

"I... fixed it."

Violet's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, really?" She grabbed at the hair dryer to test it, switching out the kettle's plug.

As the noise of the hair dryer consumed the room, Sherlock leant toward Mycroft and said, "You are not going anywhere, brother dear. You have to stay and act as a sort of ... buffer."

Mycroft's face lit up in amusement. "I will do no such thing."

Violet switched off the hair dryer and rushed over to her husband. When she wrapped her arms around Sherlock's neck, Mycroft cleared his throat.

"You're so clever!" Violet gushed.

"And... I...have something for you," Sherlock said, returning Violet's embrace with only one arm as the other remained firmly behind his back.

"I really must be going," Mycroft said graciously.

"Mycroft!" Sherlock called in a minor panic. He recomposed himself and said, "Have some manners. Violet's invited you to have tea with us."

"You bought me something at the shops?" Violet asked, her face brightening at the prospect.

"Ah... yes."

He brought forward Violet's surprise gift. Her reaction wasn't what he was expecting. She furrowed her brow at the plastic bag he held in his hand.

"Another goldfish?" she asked.

"Um... yes."

Mycroft repositioned himself and momentarily found his own shoes far more interesting than the exchange that was taking place in front of him.

"But I thought our tank was only big enough for one fish?"

Sherlock's face grew paler still, but Violet's mind had seized on another matter entirely.

"Oh, poor Winnie!" she said, suddenly making for the door. "I forgot to feed him this morning! Come on, bring his new friend over to meet him."

"On second thoughts," Mycroft said in a low voice, "I think I'll stay."

Sherlock shot daggers at his older brother before reluctantly following his wife out onto the landing. "Violet," he called weakly.

"Where... where's Winnie?" she gasped, stooping to peer through the glass of the fish tank. "And why's everything switched off?"

"Ah... Violet," Sherlock said. "I... um..." He paused, taking in Violet's hardening expression. "I... f-fixed your hair dryer." He attempted a quick smile, but his wife's eyes narrowed even further in response. Sherlock cleared his throat. "And I may have used the parts from the motor of..."

Violet's grew large and round.

"The aerator?"

Sherlock gulped. "It... seemed kind of... superfluous to the needs of … the gol... ah... Win-nie?"

"It puts oxygen into the water."

Sherlock shrugged. "Couldn't he just swim to the surface, and gulp some from the... air?"

Violet's voice was uncharacteristically calm, which only added to Sherlock's terror. "Winnie was a fish, not an amphibian."

Behind him, Sherlock heard Mycroft chuckle.

"I bought you another one," Sherlock said in a small voice, holding up the replacement.

Every muscle in Violet's body tensed. She appeared to grow taller and scarier right before Sherlock's eyes.

"You can't replace Winston Pinner, Sherlock! You murdered him!"

She brushed past him, glaring at Mycroft as she went, and stormed off through the kitchen into the bedroom out the back.

Sherlock's shoulders sagged in defeat. He now had his work cut out for him. Deciding to follow Violet and commence negotiations for his right to sleep in the same room as his wife, he strode passed a smug Mycroft, shoved the bag and fish into his brother's chest and said, "Here, Mycroft. Have yourself a … goldfish."

-oOo-

Credit: Again, I'm terrible at remembering to do this. Thanks Basser for your pet care advice :) Didn't work for Sherlock in this instance.