Contact High → Sherlock Holmes (BBC) [on hold]

{ fifty-eight }

The next morning, Sherlock and Carmen both sat in the middle of a room. Around them were a handful of people that were the most powerful people in the country. Sherlock had refused to come without Carmen, and Mycroft had pulled a few strings to make sure Carmen could join them.

Mycroft turned to look at the board members, "What you are about to see is classified beyond top secret. Is that quite clear? Once we are beyond these walls, you must never speak of it. A D-notice has been slapped on it."

Beside Mycroft's standing figure was two chairs. Carmen and Sherlock both sat in a chair, separate this time, hopefully to give a more professional atmosphere to the whole thing. Sherlock was looking down at his phone, typing in his lap. Carmen watched him out of the corner of her eye. He might've cleared the drugs test, but she wasn't so sure.

After a nights sleep, she had woke up to him leaning over her at two in the morning. His eyes were wide and his hair sticking nearly straight up. "Carmen," he had whispered. She had looked blearily up at him, "What now, Sherlock?" He just frowned at her, shaking her sleepy form awake, "The bees are dying at an alarming rate."

How was she supposed to sleep after that?

It was a good thing they were awake anyway, because Mycroft had called them into this meeting at four in the morning. Carmen watched Sherlock suspiciously as Mycroft talked. Mycroft sighed, "Only those in this room, codenames Antarctica, Langdale, Porlock, and Love will ever know the whole truth." Carmen heard the keyboard clicks from Sherlock's phone loudly in the air. She sent him a glare he didn't catch, trying to focus on the people that were deciding his fate.

"As far as everyone else is concerned, going to the Prime Minister and way beyond, Charles Augustus..." Mycroft trailed off, looking down at his little brother, "Are you tweeting?"

Sherlock jerked his head up, "Uh, no."

"Well that's what it looks like!" Mycroft said sharply.

Carmen rested her head in her hands. Sherlock scoffed, "Of course I'm not tweeting, why would I be tweeting?" Mycroft sprang into action, reaching out and grabbing Sherlock's phone, "Give that here!"

Sherlock gave an offended gasp, "No!"

The two of them scrambled for it for a few moments, pushing and shoving each other. "What are you doing?" Sherlock hissed, "No! What?"

Mycroft snapped, "Give it here!"

He gained the upper hand and took the phone away from Sherlock. He straightened up and fixed his suit with a huff. Carmen blushed in embarrassment for the both of them. Sherlock sulked as his brother read what was on the screen.

"'Back on terra firma,'" Mycroft read.

"Don't read them out!" Sherlock whined.

"'Free as a bird,'" Mycroft read the next one.

Sherlock rubbed his temple, "God, you're such a spoilsport."

"What's this?" Mycroft asked suspiciously, glancing over at Sherlock, "Is this a picture of Carmen sleeping?"

Carmen jerked her head up from where it was resting in her palms, "What!"

Mycroft turned the phone over to her, showing the picture for herself to see. Yes, it was her, brown hair and long eyelashes against her sleeping face. Carmen looked down at the caption and read it out slowly, "'We're #221Bback ... Take that @oliverwright.'"

She looked up at Sherlock, "Did you really petty tweet my ex?"

Sherlock just shrugged.

"Will you take this matter seriously, Sherlock?" Mycroft yelled.