Wanted to know why they pulled guns on Sherlock? Well, here you go. :)

(this was also for a vocab story btw)

"Now, Sherlock, I need you to be on your best behavior. The Prime Minister has recently recovered from a particularly nasty head cold and isn't feeling great." Mycroft Holmes told his younger brother outside of the Prime Minister's office.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and muttered something uncomplimentary about both Mycroft and the Prime Minister under his breath. John Watson tried to hide a chuckle.

"Will we be recorded?" John asked after rapidly composing himself.

Mycroft frowned disapprovingly. "Yes, and I'll be watching it later. Sherlock-"

"I know, I know. We'll be fine, Mycroft. I thought that this was your idea in the first place." Sherlock tapped his foot impatiently. He was in the middle of a case and hated to be bothered with pleasantries, especially pleasantries with people he deemed unimportant to him. At this time, the Prime Minister was unimportant.

"Actually, it was his idea." Mycroft contradicted. "He's been anxious to meet the man who beat Moriarty and bad press. Go on, now, we've kept him waiting long enough."

Sherlock strode to the security guards and demanded that they open the door. John sighed again and muttered, "Introduce Sherlock to one of the most important men in England. Both of 'em have ginormous egos and a temper to match. Bloody fantastic. What could possibly go wrong?"

He caught up to Sherlock quickly. The two were led to the office, where the Prime Minister himself was seated behind a desk. Two burly bodyguards with guns in holsters were at the wall behind him, one dark skinned and one only slightly tanned. The Prime Minister, portly, balding, and pale, stood at their arrival and smiled as John gave a snappy salute. Sherlock tried very hard not to laugh because the poor government official's tie was backwards, crooked, and had a ketchup stain at the tip. John surprisingly managed to keep a straight face.

The prime waddled around his desk and approached them. His gaze focused on John. "Ah, at ease. You're no longer in the military, correct, Mr...?"

"I am Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock interrupted as John relaxed, "and this is Dr. John Watson, my friend and colleague."

The prime minister's head turned to Sherlock and he offered his hand."Yes, I know who you are. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Holmes." John fixed Sherlock with a stern look in the brief second where Sherlock looked as if he was about to refuse the handshake. Sherlock caught John's eye and quickly shook the man's plump hand. The Prime Minister shook John's hand as well.

"I wish I could say the same," Sherlock muttered under his breath, and John shot him another look, this one a warning to behave. "Was there a reason you wanted to see me, or are we here to discuss your centrist ideals? I do have a case going on, so..." His baritone voice trailed off.

The Prime Minister's jaw clenched at Sherlock's rudeness. It was an honor to be there and the consulting detective had the audacity to want to leave! He forced himself to relax and smile. "Yes, in fact," he said after a moment, "I wished to congratulate you of your victory over the criminal mastermind that goes- or went, rather- by the name of Moriarty. He and his kind have plagued this world for almost centuries, and you've managed to topple his empire quite well."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, but said nonetheless, "Thank you. Now, I'd better be off-"

"Wait just one minute, Mr. Holmes, I'm sure it will be worth your time." The Prime Minister's jaw clenched in anger again, but he kept his words and tone civil. "I'd like to offer you a case."

Sherlock blinked in surprise. "Surely you heard me earlier. I'm already on a case."

"Yes, but I'm sure that you'll put that one aside in favor of one that will help the country. There are some important documents missing from our file storage. I need you to find them. The records keeper down below should be able to give you a hand. She's new, and not too bad on the eyes. Quite the bibliophile. I am not allowed to tell you what the documents contain, but-"

The consulting detective snorted. "Let me guess. Records of the budgets on under-the-table weapons? Oh, don't look so incredulous, it wasn't that difficult to deduce. Your security systems and firewalls are practically neolithic for all the good they've been doing you, and those guns your bodyguards are carrying can't be legal."

John Watson began to swear inside his head.

The Prime Minister swallowed nervously. "How did you-? How could you possibly-?" He stammered.

Sherlock glared, his voice darkening with rage. "I know about the double-dealing. I know that you have a four year old daughter who watches Doctor Who and probably believes that the Queen and her family are lycanthropes. I hold nothing but contempt for you, you fat, thoughtless man who bribed your way into office and keep searching for products to correct your rapidly receding hairline. You can remember me, a man famous for doing something about a problem you didn't even know you had, but you can't be bothered to remember the name of Captain John Watson of the Fifth Northumberland Fuseliers, a man who nearly sacrificed his life to defend your country. Your breathing pattern tells me about your undiagnosed heart condition and your right sleeve tells me about your addiction to internet po-"

Sherlock Holmes froze mid-sentence as several guns were pointed at his person. The Prime Minister, even paler than before and livid with fury, had gestured behind his back at his bodyguards, who had taken their cue and stopped the curly haired man from speaking any further. The Prime Minister snarled, "I can have you arrested on the charge of hacking into government websites and stealing classified information, Mr. Holmes. Don't think I won't."

"Alright, alright, why don't we all just, I don't know, take a deep breath. Or something. Just- just lower your weapons, alright? No need to be hasty and do something we might regret later." John held his hands up pleadingly and glanced between the guards, Sherlock, and the Prime Minister. He desperately needed to defuse the situation before Sherlock got himself killed. "Let's just think this through. Sherlock, why don't you apologize to the Prime Minister, here?"

Sherlock looked at him like he was insane."John-"

"Sherlock."

Sherlock swallowed his protests and inclined his head shortly to the Prime Minister. "My apologies," he managed to spit out.

"There." John said, sounding satisfied. "Prime Minister, is that acceptable...?"

The overweight man seemed to be deciding whether or not to have them both arrested. John secretly suspected that the only thing stopping the Prime Minister from taking a gun and shooting them on the spot was the threat of Mycroft's retribution, since Mycroft was the one who really ran the British government.. "Fine. You two are dismissed. Get out of my office, get out of my sight, and never, ever come back!" He snarled. The two bodyguards lowered their guns, and John exhaled slowly.

"Thank you," John said quickly, and he seized Sherlock's arm and dragged him out of the room.