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The sounds of gunshots echoed down the stairs as Mycroft closed the door to 221 behind him, shutting the awful weather out.
Mrs. Hudson was teetering on the edge of her door, looking rather put out.
"Again, Mrs. Hudson?" He sighed as he ditched his dripping coat, hanging it over his umbrella.
"I've tried telling him to grow up. John isn't going to stop going away for work because he gets in a paddy. But Sherlock insists on acting the nuisance when John's away."
"I'll deal with him."
"Please do, Mycroft, because I cannot guarantee your brother's safety if this continues."
She bustled back into her flat and left a smirking Mycroft at the door.
Sighing heavily, the government official climbed the 17 steps up towards B and pushed the door open with enough force to throw it back into the wall.
"Piss off, Mycroft!" Sherlock yelled immediately.
The government official took the 9 steps to his brother, snatched the gun easily from his hand and ejected the rounds, before giving it back.
"Now go and get the spoons."
Sherlock glared at the bag by Mycroft's feet before getting to his own feet with a put upon sigh and disappearing into the kitchen.
When he got back, the sofa had been moved and Mycroft was setting up the VCR he always brought with him.
"Sit, little brother."
Huffing again, the detective dropped into the sofa, twirling the gun around his index finger.
After a few more minutes Mycroft pushed a video into the VCR and settled on the sofa beside his brother, then he reached down and grabbed the large tub of ice cream. When Sherlock spotted it, he snatched the tub from his hands, prising the lid of and digging in as quickly as he could.
"How long is he away this time?"
"Tomorrow night."
"Very well." He grabbed the remote and flicked the telly on.
Sherlock grinned when Grange Hill appeared on the screen. His hand paused with half a spoon of ice cream on its way to his mouth. "God, Myc, I haven't seen this in over 25 years."
"Mummy forbid you from watching it."
"Yes, she did. I never understood why."
"Because you picked up some bad habits… apparently." He struggled around the word as if it was unusual.
Sherlock snickered, "I think I picked up most of them at school."
"Not at Eton you didn't."
"No, but my primary was a mess." It had been a mess, the whole school had been falling apart. He'd been glad Mycroft had helped him with his reading and writing because the school had been useless.
"Hmm. I wouldn't know, I was home schooled."
"That's not fair!"
Mycroft laughed, even to this day Sherlock still complained about it.
"How come I had to go?"
"Mummy and Daddy thought it best that you socialise from a young age."
"Because it was trial and error with you, you mean."
"Watch it, brother-mine. I have cookies in that bag, if you keep insulting me they might end up in the fire."
Sherlock poked his tongue out. It didn't take long for him to tip to the side and rest his head on Mycroft's shoulder.
"You could stay the night, Mycie. John would never know you were here. He's never noticed before."
"Why do you insist on hiding this from him?"
Sherlock let out a chuckle. "Trust me, it's for the best."
"How is it?"
"John can get rather… jealous, and protective. He might think there was some elaborate plot going on."
Mycroft inclined his head at that. "Good point. Best not prod a lion in its cage."
"Not when I'm the only lion tamer, no."
"You'd let him beat me up," Mycroft joked.
"Hmm," was the only noise Sherlock said for the next 3 hours, as they watched episode after episode.
Eventually, the ice cream tub was empty, the cookie packet had exploded all over them and Sherlock had fallen asleep on his big brother's shoulder.
Mycroft couldn't help but smile at him. He did enjoy it when John was away.