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John barely got the door of 221b open before Sherlock had him by the wrist and was dragging him upstairs bemused but into good a mood to protest John let himself be dragged into their rooms, where upon all good humor fled him. Mycroft Holmes sat in a chair staring imperiously at a large package on the coffee table, Sherlock dropped John's wrist and stalked over to the coffee table to glare down at the package.
"Hand delivered, some time this morning." Sherlock rattled off "Hand written label, by a man using his non-dominant hand. Accustom to handling fire arms but no recent firing has happened."
John fond himself of the receiving end of two identical assessing looks and shrugs "OK and?"
"it is addressed Dr Watson to you." Mycroft said levelly "A similarly addressed package was delivered to my assistant this morning."
John raised an eyebrow, a sinking feeling growing in the pit of his stomach "And it contained?" he asked as calmly as he could.
"An exquisite arrangement of poisonous flowers." Mycroft said casually, "Tel me Doctor where you at the palace last Wednesday night?"
John was saved from trying to lie to Mycroft by Sherlock looking up from further study of the box and answering "Don't be ridiculous Mycroft, John was out with some army friends, came home a three in the morning reeking of alcohol and unsuccessfully hiding the results of a brawl."
John felt a blush crawl up his face, he hadn't actually drunk much of the alcohol just enough so that it was on his breath.
" Brawling?" Mycroft's tone was disdain full "Really doctor, a man of you rank and character, brawling."
John cleared his throat and shrugged "Soldiers and drink Mycroft, classic recipe for a fight. At least this time we didn't get the MP's called to the bar."
And come to think about it that bit of SNAFU was caused by a bloody commando as well he though as quietly as he possible could.
Both Holmes brothers were staring at him as if he'd grown horns of an extra leg before Sherlock asked in a voice slightly tinged with amusement "You were arrested for brawling by the Military Police?"
John gave a sharp nod and said nothing.
"Well it appears that you two are more alike than I'd dared to suppose." Mycroft voice was chill with disapproval.
"I was young, green and very very drunk." John protested "And it was only the once. Not really relevant to the point either," he nodded at the package "you don't usually bother about the social niceties of not opening other peoples mail so why is that still sealed?"
He had the momentary pleasure of seeing Mycroft and Sherlock look a bit embarrassed before Mycroft with his normal impassive mask supplied "Anthea was most, insistent on the matter."
Which John thought was code for, totally handed everyone there backsides over the whole affair. but what he said was "Right, so you've checked this isn't about to blow up and probable isn't about to poison us when I open it?"
Mycroft's lips twitched and Sherlock shrugged. John sighed and headed into the kitchen for a pair of scissors, returning to the living room he began to carefully slit the package. After a few moments what looked like a small clump of bamboo in a pot stood in the midst of a cardboard pile.
"How dull," Sherlock curled a lip "I was hoping for something more interesting."
"Indeed," Mycroft stood "it would appear Doctor that our mysterious sender considers you less worthy of dangerous post than my assistant."
John wasn't that upset by not having been sent dangerous plants but, just in case, he pulled the plant care label out of the soil and nearly swallowed his own tongue at the flash of metal he saw burred in the soil. Reading the card he cursed a certain ex-commando officer and all his family back to before records began.
"John?" Sherlock interrupted his silent monologue
"Nandina domestica," John read out "not actually bamboo and definitely poisonous." Not to mention what ever the hell you've hidden in the damn pot Sebastian he added silently.
"Hmmm" Mycroft was studying him closely again "Anthea requested that I remind you that the sweetest smell can hide the sharpest sting."
And God damn you too Anthea John raged to himself I swear you two want us to get caught. Aloud he said "Well I've always found not kicking the rattle snake is a good way of not getting bitten."
Mycroft raised an eyebrow and then swept out without a word, John grinned and picked up the pot intending to go to his room and retrieve what ever else was hidden inside this not so innocent pot plant.
"You're taking it to your room?" Sherlock queried "You're voluntarily keeping something poisonous in the flat?"
"Well it's safer than many of your experiments," John countered and then let a very predatory grin slide across his face "Look at it this way, when I finally snap and kill you at least you'll die in an interesting way. Stabbed to death by poisonous fake bamboo, can't say that's a common entry for cause of death."