John and Sherlock were in the sitting room companionably having breakfast a few mornings later, swapping sections of the paper and chatting idly about the articles. The sting had faded almost completely from their bottoms, leaving just a lingering tenderness that was completely manageable assuming neither sat down too fast on a hard surface. A muffled knock downstairs made them both glance up, and Sherlock scowled at his brother's familiar tones chatting with Mrs. Hudson downstairs.

"What does he want?" Sherlock muttered.

"Probably wants his ID back."

"He'll never get it. It's far too useful and much safer in my hands."

They both laughed at that and Mycroft sauntered into the room, a humorless smile on his face as he watched them giggle.

"Feeling better, are we?" He asked. "Mrs. Hudson wasn't too hard on you then after all?"

"What, Mycroft?" Sherlock snipped. "Why are you here? Spit it out."

"Touchy." Mycroft tutted at his brother. "I don't think she quite got through to you."

"It's none of your business." Sherlock told him. But Mycroft was far from done.

"And Doctor Watson, I was surprised that you went through with the punishment as well. Though I suppose I shouldn't be. You did damage my cameras. You deserved the spanking as much as my brother did."

"Just a social call, or is there a purpose to your visit?" John asked, his tone irritated and edgy that Mycroft was teasing them about this again. Sherlock snickered.

"Rude." Mycroft scolded. "I should call Mrs. Hudson back up here."

"Why, dear?" The landlady breezed through the door with a paper bag of food that she set on the counter before she put two slices of bread in the toaster.

"Because," Sherlock began, "Mycroft thinks John and I are being rude."

"Mycroft, dear, don't think that because you're the British government you can't still go over my knee."

John and Sherlock both laughed loud and hearty and Mycroft's neck flushed with strawberry-colored indignation. "I would let you do no such thing." He told her.

"Keep antagonizing John and your brother and you won't get a choice." She scolded. Mycroft blinked, clearly affronted, before he spluttered something about a meeting and left the flat.

"Here you are." She brought more toast to the table, not phased at all by Mycroft's humiliation.

"Thanks, Mrs. H." John grinned at her and took some toast. She kissed his forehead. Sherlock glanced up, his bottom lip out in a jealous pout, before she cooed and hurried over to him, kissing his forehead as well before leaving.

"Would she?" John asked, crunching on his toast. "Get Mycroft, I mean?"

Sherlock grinned devilishly and turned a page. "I hope so, John. I really hope so."

The End

Thank you so much for all your wonderful favs and reviews, everyone! This part 7 is the most popular yet of this series and I'm thrilled. I'm glad you like to read it as much as I enjoy writing it :)

Magic Acid is real (see wikipedia), though I took major liberties with it for the story.