John chuckled as he read over the last part again,

"…can be one of the most fulfilling and exciting experiences around. "

The anonymous package had shown up on his doorstep a few days prior, though he had been more wary than intrigued. The last time an unmarked parcel had made its way to his Baker Street abode its contents weren't exactly savory. Lets just say john can never look at a pigeon the same way. But after some inspection by his very own friendly neighborhood consulting detective, the mysterious object was deemed safe enough to open.

Its contents had been surprising to say the least, a bound manual, some snapshots of Sherlock, and a gift card for 25 pounds to a very made up "Holmes Labs Inc." While john thought it was all very funny, he couldn't help but worry about the pictures, but he resigned himself to being thankful that the contents were humorous, and not… well… explosive.

The manual, while hilarious to John, seemed to really strike something within Sherlock. He, on several occasions, tried to burn the parcel. John had managed to save it from destruction but as to why it infuriated Sherlock so, he did not know… at first.

"Who exactly sent this thing Sherlock?" asked John.

"How the hell should I know?" Huffed Sherlock as he made his way towards the kitchen.

"Well I mean, you are the worlds one and only consulting detective, and I've seen you deduce much more, from much less ." said John, looking back down at the sports section of his favourite paper.

"WELL, if you really MUST know John, I haven't figured out who sent it, okay? Why don't you go blog about it and let some fan girls of mine get their jollies off knowing that THE INCOMPORABLE SHERLOCK HOLMES COULDN'T FIGURE OUT WHO SENT HIM A SIMPLE PACKAGE." Sherlock barked as he carelessly tossed his mug into the sink, only nearly missing the jar of bloody fingernails. "Christ Sherlock calm the hell down!" John called as he folded his newspaper over his lap. "I didn't realize you were going to be such a little twat about this.."

Mycroft Holmes smiled silently to himself as he watched the trite squabble ensue. Despite his appearance the elder Holmes brother could be quite the prankster, oh, and how he loved to torment his little brother. He snickered quietly as he lifted himself from his position at the surveillance hub. "Oh Anthea, do you have the car ready?" He called out to his always charming personal assistant. "Yes Mr. Holmes, where should I tell the driver we're going?" she asked, glancing up, only briefly, from her Blackberry. Mycroft turned to her with a smile and said "I think its time for another visit to our favourite consulting detective."