(no subject)

[british_government]

Mycroft leads Sherlock out of the infirmary, carefully guiding the way to the bar.

"It would appear as though Mr Hunt was very wise indeed," says Mycroft upon noticing that Gene is no longer behind the bar.

This is good news for everyone involved.

Comments

[hello_freak]

"Oh like he's the first person to take umbrage with my rather concise observations."

Sherlock's usual acerbic tone is somewhat dulled by the necessity to keep his voice down. Two black eyes, both the result of the broken nose, a swollen lip, and a tooth that had a little tour of the baseboards behind the bar before being returned to his jaw will do that to a person.

"Did you have to pull a gun on him? Really, Mycroft. It's not as if he was going to kill me in front of the whole room."

[not-yourproblem.livejournal.com]

"It was the most effective solution to the problem at hand," Mycroft answers simply, doing Sherlock a favour by keeping his voice low. "Although, if I'd known you were going to bleed all over me anyway, I might have chosen a different tack entirely."

He leads Sherlock to a seat nearby and sits him down in it.

"Would you like me to send for Dr Watson?"

[hello_freak]

He settles into it with as much flounce as he can muster, which isn't much at all. He does pull the coffee table closer in order to stretch out his long legs on it.

"God no. I couldn't stand his fretting about like some sort of nursemaid. Do you know the man tried to ration my nicotine patches?"

Honestly, the nerve of some people.

[not-yourproblem.livejournal.com]

"How dare he," Mycroft says flatly.

God knows he's failed at that in the past, and has long-since given up on it.

Mycroft take the opportunity to take a proper look at the mess that has become his brother.

"I don't think Mummy needs to hear about this either," he says. "Any of it."

[hello_freak]

Sherlock scoffs, a reflexive exclamation he regrets immediately. One hand comes up to cover his eyes.

"Yes, dear brother. I'm going to run right home and tell her how I was accosted in a magic bar at the end of the universe, by a copper straight out of her favourite television programme. That'll go over splendidly, don't you think?"

[not-yourproblem.livejournal.com]

Mycroft allows himself a brief chuckle. Good to see they're on the same page... sort of.

"Quite," he says.

He nods lightly before making his way to the Bar, returning in short order with a room key and a bottle of paracetamol.

"I worry," he says, handing both over.

[hello_freak]

Sherlock waves a hand, refusing to take either of them.

"Go on then."

He pulls his legs down, one at a time, moving like a marionette whose strings have become a bit tangled. Levering himself up out of the chair takes a moment.

"You're going to want to know where it is anyway. Best you come up and see it now, rather than waking me from a no doubt restful and healing sleep later."

[not-yourproblem.livejournal.com]

Mycroft lets Sherlock do as much for himself as he's able, trying not to crowd him while still staying close enough to prevent a nasty tumble.

"As I do have other engagements, do try to avoid any property damage this time. Despite what you may think, I don't actually have access to the treasury."

He leads Sherlock up to the first floor, to a room that is conveniently located near the stairs.

[hello_freak]

Sherlock glares at his brother.

"Or so you'd like me to believe," he says, taking the key from his brother and unlocking the door.

The suite is unbearably nondescript, just like a thousand and one hotel suites in countries all over the world. The first room is the lounge, with the entertainment system, sofa and two overstuffed chairs. The room beyond features two queen sized beds, a bathroom, another television, and a tiny fridge.

"Christ, it's as big as my flat."

Sherlock turns and fixes his brother with a Look.

[not-yourproblem.livejournal.com]

Mycroft gives him his best innocent look. Which, let's face it, is very well-practised.

"According to the manual, this place creates a sort of... psychic link with the guest."

He sets the paracetamol down on the nearest surface.

"It's quite an interesting read, if you'd like to borrow it."

[hello_freak]

"There's a manual? Why is this the first I've heard about a manual? Oh."

Sherlock's hands cover his face for a brief moment. Shouting is ill-advised at the moment. He clicks off the lamp and flops into a chair, his hand alighting on the television remote, but he does not pick it up.

"Yes, I'd like to 'borrow' it, if you'd be so kind. And please, Mycroft, don't tell John I'm here. Whatever you do."

[not-yourproblem.livejournal.com]

"I'll have it sent up with your things," Mycroft says. "I'm surprised you didn't know about it, actually. It's a bit large, but worth it. And you'll have plenty of time to get through it whilst avoiding your flatmate."

Of course he won't tell John. Sherlock was already quite clear on the matter, and while he does like to meddle, Mycroft very rarely likes to go directly against Sherlock's wishes.