It had been two weeks since the "Johnlock" (as Lestrade called it) relationship had become public, and John was happy. Not contented, happy. He loved his life.
And of course, this was when Mycroft had to 'summon' him to talk about some assassin or whatnot. He sighed and got into the black car.
"Hi, Anthea. How've you been?"
"Good."
"Right, yes- very good."
The rest of the car ride was spent in silence.
They arrived at the same abandoned building as last time. John pulled open the door and sighed.
"Tea?" Mycroft inquired.
"None, thanks."
"Very well." Mycroft set the teapot down and smiled- a bit of a grimace.
"So, Mycroft, what is it you want to talk about today? Assassins? Bombs? Terrorists? The Queen? Your diet?"
Mycroft's smile thinned even more- John wouldn't have thought it possible.
"My diet is fine, thank you. No, we're here to talk about- what was the name again? Ah yes- 'johnlock.' I am aware that you have become... romantically involved with my brother."
"Yeah, so?"
"I just wanted to let you know- if you break his so-called heart, I will declare you an enemy of the nation and you will be deported. Your life will be effectively ruined."
"You... care?"
"Well, yes." Mycroft was a bit miffed. "Of course. He is my brother."
"I see. And- just a thought- do you always threaten his friends?"
"I would say you are a bit more than friends, John."
John sighed. "Okay, is that it?"
"Yes." Mycroft walked off, twirling his cane.
John knew it was a bit vindictive but he shouted after him, "How's the diet?"
Back at 221B, John laid on the couch and thought, "It was just a Mycroft-ized version of the 'you break his heart, I break your face' talk."
Sherlock looked up from his microscope and smirked. "How did your...meeting... go with Mycroft?"
"Fine. It was... fine, thank you." John got up to make a cup of tea.
