Mycroft

"Now that he's in there, lock the door and throw away the key!" Lestrade whispered in hushed tones as Sherlock paced the shared flat's sitting room and devoted his attention to dissecting every piece of information on Lestrade's case.

"You do know Sherlock owns a complete set of lockpicking tools?" John responded seriously.

"So, what should we do, then?" Both were silent for a long time.

"I hope you're not about to suggest what I think you're going to suggest." John said at Lestrade's resigned look.

"I don't know any other solution." Lestrade sighed, fishing around in his pockets for his phone. Then he rolled his eyes, extending a hand toward Sherlock, palm upturned. "Phone, Sherlock."

"Hm." Sherlock grunted, not moving his gaze from the dossier. His long fingers dipped into his breast pocket and he tossed Lestrade his stolen phone.

Lestrade called up Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's archenemy and older brother. But surely he'd be able to handle Sherlock? Right? "You do know this may completely backfire?"

John just nodded at Lestrade, more distracted by the knowledge that Mycroft's number was in Lestrade's list of speed dials. "Let's hope it doesn't."

Fifteen minutes later, an unmarked black vehicle pulled up on the street outside. By that time, Sherlock had moved to his usual seat and was organizing the details of the case in, what he percieved to be, the order of most importance.

Another minute and Mycroft stood in the front doorway. Lestrade and John held a collective breath for the imperative confrontation. Sherlock acted like he hadn't even noticed the man waltz in like he owned the place.

"Sherlock." Mycroft's calm, even voice broke the deafening silence.

"Brother dearest." was Sherlock's contemptuous response. He still didn't look up from his case.

"I hear you've been causing a great deal of distress to Dr. Watson and Inspector Lestrade." Mycroft mentioned casually.

"And I see no reason for you to get involved." Sherlock responded, equally as casually.

Mycroft leaned into Sherlock's personal space. "Then, don't give me a reason to." he smiled kindly. "Because, I can have it arranged for you to be 'kidnapped' and your movements restricted for the rest of your recovery, two or three days, was it?" Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked up at Mycroft. "I'm sure Dr. Watson and Inspector Lestrade could use the peace and quiet."

"Invite me back home, why don't you? It's the same thing."

"If that's what you want, I'm sure I can have that arranged."

Then ensued a heated staredown. Sherlock broke eye contact first with a lofty 'humph' and a scowl. "This is my 'behaving' face." he said sarcastically.

Mycroft turned to Lestrade and John for the first time. "See to it that he is ingested with nepeta cataria. That always worked when he was a child." With a polite smile, he walked out.

John turned to Lestrade in confusion. "'Nepeta Cataria'?"

"Catnip." Lestrade elaborated. "Used for soothing and numbing effects. I'm pretty sure Mrs. Hudson has some in her stash of medicinal herbs." he deadpanned. "You better ask her to prepare it. I think it's best if I remain oblivious to what else she keeps burrowed in there."

He patted John encouragingly on the shoulder. "Good luck." And when he had extracted a promise from Sherlock saying he would contact him for the case if he learned anything new, he left.

John stood, stock still, hands fidgeting, he looked around at the desperate situation he was in. He took a deep, calming breath and opened his mouth... "Mrs. Hudson!"

The End.