Doctor Who/Sherlock Oneshots

A Picture of Mycroft

What happens when there's a special government ritual and Sherlock is bored out of his wits? In this humorous and frankly pointless oneshot, Sherlock shows a mischievous side and Mycroft gets very.. unamused.

Note: Before I begin, I will say this. I know nothing of British politics or ceremonial traditions. I know nothing of what Mycroft would do on a special day, or what the British Government had been doing forever, but is that going to stop me? Apparently not. Read for your own enjoyment. Not to learn the educational values of the British Government. Please note that I had a really hard time keeping a straight face while writing this. I also made some...references. Enjoy.

~~~

"Bored," mumbled Sherlock as he shot the wall precisely five times. Mrs. Hudson infuriatingly screamed, "SHERLOCK!" as she started to make tea rapidly. "That's going to be on your rent!"

Promptly ignoring Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock slumped onto his sofa and stared at the distinct pattern of paint chips on the ceiling. Small cracks and big cracks and tiny fat cracks galore... Suddenly, in a blink of an eye, Sherlock's phone miraculously lit up with a text from Mycroft.

Urgent business to attend. Government meeting of sorts. STAY OUT OF IT.

-MH

"Hmm... You know what that means," mumbled Sherlock. "The game is on, Mrs. Hudson!" he exclaimed as he whipped on his scarf. "I'm going to pay my older brother a little visit."

—-

The room was dark, oh so dark. The only bit of light came from outdoors which was very little since it was late in the afternoon and raining. Mycroft sat concentrating with his two hands clasped together. Mind palace. Hmmm. Jumping up at an astounding and frankly alarming rate, he realized one small thing. The ritual was indeed today.

Exactly WHY he had to do this, he did not know. But every single year, he had agreed to this queer monstrosity. Absolutely no one knew of this little tradition that the government put together, Mycroft would always do it. Although, this time was different. Every year, Sherlock was blessed with a tricky case to chase. This time, it seemed as if Sherlock were bored out of his wits. He knew what that meant, and he had to act quickly.

—-

"Sherlock, dear, your brother told you not to go! Have a little respect!" said Mrs. Hudson.

"I have no suitable cases, so this will be the only way to entertain myself, if I should put it correctly," replied Sherlock.

"Oh, dear. What will we do with you?" she said with a little smile.

—-

The clothing was interesting indeed. With a large red button-down coat, it contrasted the gold and white buttons and elaborate fringe on the edges. He slipped on his purely white gloves which fit perfectly every single year. Mycroft managed to put on the big, ruffly shirt that was put underneath the colorful jacket. Amongst the elaborate-ness of his jacket and gloves, he wore white pantaloons accompanied with buckled shoes and white stockings. The final touch included a fluffy, brown wig that frankly made him look like the younger, idiotic version of Johannes Sebastian Bach.

"Hello, Jonathan," said Mycroft solemnly as he entered the room filled with other members like him, wearing fluffy wigs and pantaloons.

"Hello, Mycroft," said a small man whose face much resembled a shriveled walnut. "We have been waiting for you."

"And I have been waiting for you!" appeared a voice right out of the blue. Jumping out from the heavily embroidered couch, Mycroft caught a glimpse of curly black hair and a blue scarf, and immediately, his thoughts were, Oh no.