Fill: Captcha'd You
anonymous
October 16 2010, 23:44:16 UTC
Hope you don't mind that I put some of my pairings in there! It just sort of grabbed me and wrote itself. ^_^; If it's not what OP wanted, then I hope that you get another and better fill! - Mycroft looks up with a raised eyebrow as his younger brother bursts into his office with all of the drama and bravado the younger man so desperately enjoys.
“Sherlock! What a pleasant sur-”
“Stop it.” Sherlock demands, irritation dripping from his entire body. Mycroft’s second eyebrow goes up to join the first.
“Whatever do you mean?” Mycroft has been practicing his speech of innocence for several weeks now, training his face into the proper expressions before a mirror. Sherlock’s eye twitches, and the elder Holmes fears he may have overdone it a little.
“You know what I mean! This-” Sherlock shoves a piece of paper at Mycroft, “is you interfering. Stop it.” The government official makes a point of looking it over, even though he already knows what’s on it. A printed screen-shot of an internet page, containing a comment box and the electronic contraption called captcha. The words to be typed correctly were fuck J0nH.
“Sherlock,” Mycroft begins with a sigh, using the voice reserved for dealing with a slow and difficult child, “captcha is a completely random apparatus designed to check for non-human hackers and cataloguing-”
“It was you, and we both know it,” Sherlock cuts petulantly, his irritation growing. Mycroft smirks and leans forward, pressing the palms of his hands together as his brother often does when thinking.
“But can you prove it?” he asks softly. Sherlock flinches, and Mycroft knows he’s won. Well, he’d known he would win all along, but experiencing a victory is always more satisfactory than planning it.
Turning back to the paperwork on his desk, Mycroft waves his brother away. “Go on, Sherlock. Wouldn’t want to keep you from your doctor for too long.” The consulting detective hesitates for a second before turning with a dramatic flare of his great coat and storming from the room, the crumpled paper held too tightly in his hand.
Mycroft waits until Sherlock is out of the building before reaching into his desk drawer and retrieving his laptop. Hitting Enter, he sends off another secret captcha message; this time to John Watson. With a pleased quirk of the lips, he imagines the doctor’s expression when he sees the message kisses SHlock. It won’t be long now before the pair at 221b Baker Street begin to take his advice.
Having done his quota of good for the day, Mycroft decides he deserves a reward. Honestly, if he was using his influence to help his brother’s love life, why not extend a little help to his own? Mind made up, he composes the captcha message and sends it on its way. Hopefully, Lestrade will get the message and realize that Mycroft is expecting a little more than just dinner from the DI tonight.
Captcha says boachis regime. It knows that Mycroft rules!!!
-
Mycroft looks up with a raised eyebrow as his younger brother bursts into his office with all of the drama and bravado the younger man so desperately enjoys.
“Sherlock! What a pleasant sur-”
“Stop it.” Sherlock demands, irritation dripping from his entire body. Mycroft’s second eyebrow goes up to join the first.
“Whatever do you mean?” Mycroft has been practicing his speech of innocence for several weeks now, training his face into the proper expressions before a mirror. Sherlock’s eye twitches, and the elder Holmes fears he may have overdone it a little.
“You know what I mean! This-” Sherlock shoves a piece of paper at Mycroft, “is you interfering. Stop it.” The government official makes a point of looking it over, even though he already knows what’s on it. A printed screen-shot of an internet page, containing a comment box and the electronic contraption called captcha. The words to be typed correctly were fuck J0nH.
“Sherlock,” Mycroft begins with a sigh, using the voice reserved for dealing with a slow and difficult child, “captcha is a completely random apparatus designed to check for non-human hackers and cataloguing-”
“It was you, and we both know it,” Sherlock cuts petulantly, his irritation growing. Mycroft smirks and leans forward, pressing the palms of his hands together as his brother often does when thinking.
“But can you prove it?” he asks softly. Sherlock flinches, and Mycroft knows he’s won. Well, he’d known he would win all along, but experiencing a victory is always more satisfactory than planning it.
Turning back to the paperwork on his desk, Mycroft waves his brother away. “Go on, Sherlock. Wouldn’t want to keep you from your doctor for too long.” The consulting detective hesitates for a second before turning with a dramatic flare of his great coat and storming from the room, the crumpled paper held too tightly in his hand.
Mycroft waits until Sherlock is out of the building before reaching into his desk drawer and retrieving his laptop. Hitting Enter, he sends off another secret captcha message; this time to John Watson. With a pleased quirk of the lips, he imagines the doctor’s expression when he sees the message kisses SHlock. It won’t be long now before the pair at 221b Baker Street begin to take his advice.
Having done his quota of good for the day, Mycroft decides he deserves a reward. Honestly, if he was using his influence to help his brother’s love life, why not extend a little help to his own? Mind made up, he composes the captcha message and sends it on its way. Hopefully, Lestrade will get the message and realize that Mycroft is expecting a little more than just dinner from the DI tonight.
Captcha says boachis regime. It knows that Mycroft rules!!!
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Love this!
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Oh, Mycroft.
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hmmmm, harang upon. what is Mycroft trying to tell us now? XD
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