A/N: A discussion with mashfan4life a couple of months ago gave birth to the idea of writing a series of short one-shots using puns/bad jokes as the theme. I offer no apologies for the ridiculousness of what follows. These little slices of life will probably follow no discernible timeline, will not have regular updates and will no doubt be some of the silliest things you will ever read. All that being said, I hope you enjoy them!

The Disdainful Thief

"You think you're so clever," snarled Jack Lancer, anger causing his whole body to tremble and the handcuffs fastened snugly around his wrists to clank softly. The tall, curly-haired man standing opposite sneered at the other man's ramblings.

"Face it, Lancer. You're nothing more than a small-time con artist with delusions of grandeur," said Sherlock Holmes in his plumiest tone.

Lancer's face turned mottled red; not an attractive look on someone of his pale colouring. "Oh, really?" he snapped back. "You should be more careful; you know what they say about glass houses and bricks. I've been following your career, Mr. Know-It-All, and while your deductions may amaze the hoi-polloi, I see them for what they really are: nothing more than parlour tricks."

"You just keep telling yourself you're a clever boots, Mr. Holmes, because soon enough people will see through you. They'll see you for your true self: a puffed-up, public school boy who knows naught of the real world or real people. After all, your best friend is nothing more than a sycophantic toady …"

"That's enough, don't you think?" interrupted Sherlock. "Save your breath and your funny speeches for the jury. Lestrade, take him away. You'll find in the next room everything you need to satisfactorily prove that Jack Lancer is the brains behind the recent series of jewellery store heists in Hatton Garden. Well, I say brains … really, he's only about three points higher in intelligence than any of his so-called gang."

Lancer sputtered at the slur and as he was being dragged from the room, he continued to spout his opinions in a voice loud enough to be heard blocks away.

"Does he ever stop talking?" wondered Sherlock aloud as he swanned out of the room, leaving John and Lestrade to follow behind.

As Lancer and his police escort crossed the landing and headed down the final flight of stairs to the building's front entrance, Lancer still spewing nonsense all the while, John suddenly giggled in amusement.

"What?" asked Lestrade, his brow furrowed.

"Nothing," said John.

"That laugh was something. C'mon … give."

"Well," responded John as he waved vaguely towards the stairs, "I just realized that was the living embodiment of a joke I heard once."

Lestrade eyed John and cocked an eyebrow as if to say well, don't leave a man hanging.

John grinned at his friend and then said, "What do you call a disdainful thief going down stairs?"

Lestrade thought for a brief moment, shook he head and said, "I don't know. What?"

"A condescending con descending."

Greg let out an involuntary snort and then groaned, "John; that was terrible!"

Just then, Sherlock's baritone floated up the stairway towards them. "John, why do you insist on subjecting us to your ridiculous puns? They're not remotely amusing."

Greg laughed at the disgust in the Consulting Detective's voice and called down, "I don't know Sherlock. Wasn't it Alfred Hitchcock who said 'puns are highest form of literature'?"

The mild expletive that ensued caused both John and Greg to burst into laughter. And if John noticed a slightly evil gleam in the Detective Inspector's eye … well, he was looking forward to seeing what the future brought!