221B: Teabagging Mycroft
BBC Sherlock
Rating: PG
Summary: Mycroft gets a nasty surprise when he visits John and Sherlock in Sussex.
Crack fic written for archea2's Not-Porn Porn Fest
John had expected the bees when they retired to Sussex. He hadn't expected the compost. Though Sherlock had always been fascinated by decomposition, and the scientific analysis of rotting vegetation was surely better than having disintegrating thumbs in the fridge.
Sherlock was out in the garden now, carefully sorting yesterday's leftovers. John knew better than to interfere; he still hadn't been forgiven for putting orange peel in the wormery. So when the door-bell rang, it was him faced with Mycroft.
He wished yet again that the Secret Service had let Mycroft go after William V's little accident, but no-one in the public sector was allowed to retire before eighty now. So here was Mycroft boring on about the latest defence disaster: someone had walked off with a vital part of Britain's latest submarine.
"It was a chip," Mycroft said. "They swallowed it." John's eyebrows rose. "A silicon chip. My experts assure me some information may be recoverable by the thief even after throughput."
"Sherlock won't take the case," John told him. "You know he's retired for good."
"I'm sure I can persuade him," Mycroft said smugly, heading out into the garden.
John watched and waited, smiling. A smile that turned into a grin as he saw Mycroft retreating shortly afterwards, beaten back by an accurately thrown volley of slightly-used tea bags.
Rating: PG
Summary: Mycroft gets a nasty surprise when he visits John and Sherlock in Sussex.
Crack fic written for archea2's Not-Porn Porn Fest
John had expected the bees when they retired to Sussex. He hadn't expected the compost. Though Sherlock had always been fascinated by decomposition, and the scientific analysis of rotting vegetation was surely better than having disintegrating thumbs in the fridge.
Sherlock was out in the garden now, carefully sorting yesterday's leftovers. John knew better than to interfere; he still hadn't been forgiven for putting orange peel in the wormery. So when the door-bell rang, it was him faced with Mycroft.
He wished yet again that the Secret Service had let Mycroft go after William V's little accident, but no-one in the public sector was allowed to retire before eighty now. So here was Mycroft boring on about the latest defence disaster: someone had walked off with a vital part of Britain's latest submarine.
"It was a chip," Mycroft said. "They swallowed it." John's eyebrows rose. "A silicon chip. My experts assure me some information may be recoverable by the thief even after throughput."
"Sherlock won't take the case," John told him. "You know he's retired for good."
"I'm sure I can persuade him," Mycroft said smugly, heading out into the garden.
John watched and waited, smiling. A smile that turned into a grin as he saw Mycroft retreating shortly afterwards, beaten back by an accurately thrown volley of slightly-used tea bags.