WHAT UP! Sorry for the delay, life and stuff.

For those of you tuning in for the first time; this is a third installment in a very epic crossover of all my favorite characters! Glitch introduced my OC and her backstory, Adjusting with the Avengers showed her having a blast with the Avengers, and this one, my dear friends, titled Deducing The Sleuth, is REALLY where Plan Interfere begins! Get excited!

Disclaimer: Sherlock (Le BBC version) does not belong to me. Eden is mine! A few others as well! But mostly, thank Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat, and their wonderful creative team that has brought Sherlock to life. Thank you, Gatiss, for introducing me to Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch. For that, I owe you my undying gratitude.

Mycroft Holmes was not amused. His day off, and with concrete plans to debrief his newest associate, all ruined because his foolish younger brother had suddenly decided he needed something; and needed it immediately. Mycroft leaned elegantly against his desk, idly listening to Sherlock rant.

John Watson was most amused. Sherlock had woken up in a snit about…something early that morning, demanding he awaken so they could retrieve what Sherlock only referred to as "the files." John had stumbled out of bed and into shoes, eyes crossed from the 18 hours he'd worked at the clinic and the two hours of sleep he managed to catch before his abrupt alarm. He'd properly awoken in the cab, becoming angry at Sherlock's high handedness, before becoming resigned, mostly used to Sherlock's strange habits. He now sat in a corner of Mycroft's sitting room, bemused. It was always fun to see the two Holmes brothers square off.

Sherlock…who knew what Sherlock was thinking, he was a conundrum cloaked in mystery and sharp cheekbones. He paced the perimeter of the sitting room, snarling at Mycroft's latest refusal to his request.

"But you don't understand." He insisted hotly. "I NEED them." Mycroft rolled his eyes at the childlike whine that had erupted from his brother throat, and Sherlock, seeing this tactic was no longer working, turned to John with a swish of his coat.

"John, explain to Mycroft the urgency of this matter."

John sighed, exasperated. "Sherlock, I don't know why this matter is so urgent. I don't even know what you're asking for."

"The files, john, the files!" Sherlock stressed impatiently.

John let out a short bark of laughter. "Way to clear that up."

Sherlock growled and flipped his hair of his face. "Don't be dull. I thoroughly explained all of this last evening, in the flat. I even used a reduced vocabulary, so you would be able to understand."

"Sherlock!" John rubbed a hand down his face. He wasn't quite sure if he was supposed to be exasperated at Sherlock's inability to pay attention or angry at the insult to intelligence. He decided either way that he didn't care. Was it mentioned he only had two hours of sleep that night? "I was working last night; at the clinic. I wasn't even home."

Sherlock furrowed a brow, then his expression cleared. "it's hardly my fault if you abandon The Work in favor of menial labor, labor, I might add, that has no real point."

"That menial labor, Sherlock, pays the bills. You would do well to remember that." John warned.

"Really John? Your bringing up unwarranted financial concerns in the middle of a most important transaction? Possibly affecting my ability to properly do The Work?" Sherlock shook his head slowly. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

John threw his hands in the air and leaned back in the chair, done with the conversation. Sherlock turned back to his brother, who was already shaking his head.

"Were they even to exist, I would not just hand over classified in depth background checks on your coworkers at the Scotland Yard, Sherlock. Why don't you just deduce what you need to know, hmm?"

"The files exist, obviously, and there's one for everyone currently employed by the yard, as well, knowing how protective you are," Sherlock sneered at the word protective, "and for the fact that they've all been allowed close personal contact with myself and are still alive and employed. Just tell me what you want Mycroft. A Case? Fine. You can have a case. ONE. Or maybe something else? How about a piece of cake? No, you probably want an entire cake." Sherlock goaded. Mycroft mere raised a brow.

"It does not do to insult the person you are asking a favor from." Mycroft frowned disapprovingly, and Sherlock groaned heavily.

"Fine Mycroft. Two cases. Satisfied?"

Mycroft laughed lightly. "And why, exactly, do you even need the files? What are you looking for?" He asked, curiously.

"Answers are not on the bargaining table." Sherlock griped. "Fine. Three cases, but no more."

Mycroft shook his head. "I don't need any cases from you."

"Then what do you want?" Sherlock demanded.

Mycroft simply smiled.

WHAT DOES HE WANT?!

Stay tuned!

~CLC~