"You want me to do what?" Mycroft Holmes almost shouted into the phone, startling even his unflappable assistant.

From the way her boss was almost strangling his poor phone it was clear to Anthea that he was talking to his younger brother. She stood up and went to get him some tea he would undoubtedly need to calm his frayed nerves.

Sherlock held his phone at arm's length to prevent his eardrums]from getting hurt. Why did Mycroft need to make things difficult? In the end he would cave in anyway.

"If you don't want to help, I could always ask Geoffrey to assist me."

"Most certainly not!"

Oh, his brother carried around so much insecurity. Sherlock knew he would always fail to seduce the loyal DI, not that he had any intention of doing it, since Lestrade was completely smitten with his the incarnation of the British government.

"Who else is there? If you won't do it, I'm sure the Detective Inspector would be willing." Sherlock allowed to roll the last word from his mouth with as much innuendo as possible. "Bye, Mycroft."

"Okay, I'll do it!"

Sherlock didn't even make an effort to hide the triumphant smile from his voice. "How kind of you."

"When?" Mycroft growled.

"You need to be ready no later than seven. I'll text you," Sherlock added, knowing the text would annoy his brother even further.

"Good afternoon, Sherlock." Mycroft ended the call. For a second he wished they still had the old telephones. Slamming down the receiver instead of pressing a button was much more satisfying.