I can't believe this story took me this long to finish! Initially, I had planned for the story to be only five chapters long, each character was interviewed and it was revealed that everyone is a nerd. But requests for interviews with Anderson and Donovan made me consider this bonus chapter. Since they are not friendly towards Sherlock, let alone being considered his friends, they are going to experience the questionnaire first hand, through experiencing the situations for real.

After long last, here it is: The Pranking of Donovan and Anderson, and every other unfortunate soul on the drugs squad!

Beware of made up technology. They're based on what there really exists- that is, if the stuff in Mission Impossible do. They seemed plausible enough…

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Sherlock, nor any of the AU stories that inspired this series. I just own a scatterbrained and slightly evil muse!

"So, I'll lead the team through the door." Lestrade said, while demonstrating what he said.

"According to my observations," Sherlock began, "they gather in the middle of the sitting room for approximately three minutes before they scatter across the flat."

"Do they check upstairs as well?" Mycroft asked.

"Not usually, since it's generally me they want to annoy, and going up the extra set of stares requires added effort, but it has happened." Sherlock replied.

"We'll begin the questionnaire right away then." John added, "Hopefully they'll be too caught in it that they'll forget their original purpose for coming here!"

"Oooh, when can we begin with the dressed rehearsals?" Mrs. Hudson asked excitedly.

"Right after we got the routine perfected." Sherlock said. He clapped his hands together enthusiastically and strode to the center of the sitting room, "Places, every one!"

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"Mycroft, I think your technicians got the color wrong." John said disgruntled, while looking at the equipment at his back.

"Hmm? Did they really?" Mycroft asked him mildly.

"Oh, I think it suites you very much, dear!" Mrs. Hudson cooed.

John shot Mycroft a glare. He then walked off to get into position again while muttering "manipulative, overbearing ba…" under his breath.

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Loud thumping footsteps could be herd on the stairs leading up to the 221B flat. Moments later Greg Lestrade entered through the door, followed by Anderson, Sally Donovan, Walters and Evans. The two constables looked more curious than the others, even though this was their third drugs bust in 221B, they couldn't get enough of seeing the strange flat.

The Yarders gathered in the middle of the sitting room, as Lestrade approached Sherlock, who was sprawled on his armchair, and holding his violin.

"Hello, Lestrade." Sherlock drawled, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"You know to what, how about you-" Lestrade never got to finish his sentence, as a loud thump interrupted him. Not a moment later, John's feet came into view through the open window, and right after that the rest of his body swung into the room. John Watson landed gracefully in front of the window in a crouch. Then he straightened and the squad members all gasped in surprise. Behind John's back, a magnificent pair of white wings were unfolding. He stretched his arms and the wings on his back stretched outwards as well. He put his hands on his hips at the sight of the squad gawping at him, his feathers bristling slightly, "Ah, it seems we have company." He said sarcastically, "Should I put the kettle on then?"

"You-you…!" Donovan began.

"I can't believe this!" Anderson squeaked.

"Oh my God!" Walters exclaimed.

Evans had a dreamy look on his face.

John looked at them with raised eyebrows for a moment, then he turned and left for the kitchen, his wings held high on his back.

"Can I touch them?" Evans blurted out.

John froze on his way to the kitchen. His back muscles tensed and his wings flared. Lestrade hid a smirk behind his hand and Sherlock looked at Evans with his brows furrowed. John turned around and looked at the eager officer blankly. Then he cleared his throat, "I don't think we know each other that well." He told him stiffly.

"So…can Sherlock touch your wings?" Walters asked.

"No, he can't." John answered easily.

"Why not? He certainly knows you well enough!" Walters countered.

"Oh, for-" John raised his hands in despair, his wings fluttering in sync with them, "would you lot drop it already?" He turned back and continued his way back to the kitchen, muttering under his breath. His wings were held stiffly and their feathers were puffed up in agitation as he stalked off in the kitchen.

"Um…" Anderson began, then inhaled deeply, "yeah, I still can't get over that revelation."

"If you had those big wings all this time," Sally began, "how did you hide them for this long?"

"Sherlock!" John yelled, "Please do the honors, I'm busy here!"

"His wings have the ability to transport between dimensions. They go into a parallel dimension when they are not needed, while they are still attached to him."

All the present Yarders looked at him in bewilderment. Sherlock looked at them nonchalantly and plucked at his violin.

"Um, Sherlock…" John called from the kitchen tentatively.

Sherlock stilled, put the violin in its case near his chair and stood up, "Yes, yes, I'm coming."

"What just happened?" Sally asked, "Why are you going to the kitchen? Something is in there that shouldn't be, isn't there?" She continued suspiciously.

Sherlock gave her a level look and continued towards the kitchen. A short time later he came back to the living room bearing a tea tray. He put the tray on the coffee table and flopped back on his chair.

The squad members reached for the mugs on the table. Sally straightened up with her tea in her hand and called towards the kitchen, "Um, John, are you going to join us out here?"

"In a moment, I'm setting down the biscuits." John called back to her.

"Alri…" Sally trailed off in the middle of her reply. She was frowning as she looked into the kitchen through its open doors.

Lestrade noticed this first and called her out on it, "What's wrong Donovan?"

"Um…" She hesitated, "John, are you still in the kitchen?"

"Sure, why do you ask?" John's voice carried to the sitting room, "Do you need me to get you anything?"

"If you are still in the kitchen, why can't I see you?" Sally asked, a bit of apprehension seeping through her tone.

The other Yarders gathered around Sally and looked in there as well. Sure enough, they could see a plate full of biscuits rise from the counter top and approach a tray. The plate halted in midair. It tilted towards them and John's disembodied voice reached them, "What? Why are you staring at me like that?"

The yarders were gob smacked. Greg was marveling over how well the technique was working while the squad members were doing a marvelous imitation of fish. Finally Anderson managed to say weakly, "You're invisible!"

Sherlock attempted to pluck the first few notes of Beethoven's fifth symphony for dramatic effect. His last note ended with an unpleasant twang and he groaned in pain. He put his instrument away hastily and clutched his hand. Every one turned to look at him. Evans was the first to gasp out, "Oh my god, your blood is green!"

"Yes, it is." Sherlock drawled, "Brilliant observation, Evans!" he added sarcastically.

"Okay, regardless of the weird color," Walters began, "I guess you should get a bandage or something for it. That bleeding looks nasty!"

Sherlock threw his head back and sighed dejectedly, "This is rather inconvenient, but, John, would y-Oh, that was rather prompt!" He finished with a pleased tone while looking down on the ground.

Everyone looked down and saw a Champagne colored long eared hedgehog in front of Sherlock's chair, looking up at the detective. Sherlock very gently picked up the hedgehog and set it on his lap. The hedgehog sniffed at Sherlock's hand and looked up at him again. Sherlock shot it a half smile "No, it's nothing too serious." The hedgehog put a paw near Sherlock's injury, "Fine, if you insist." The hedgehog began to sniff around the injury.

"What…is going on?" Anderson asked suspiciously. "Is that-that's- I mean…"

"Dear lord, that's John? And he's about to-?" Sally began.

"I'm rarely injured, but when I am, hedgehog saliva is the fastest way to stop the bleeding."

"And it's-?" Sally asked a bit green around the gills.

Sherlock looked at her sharply. He tried to cover the hedgehog's ears with his thumb and forefinger, "Really Sally, how would you feel if you were referred to as "it"? You should be more careful about your pronouns." Sherlock scooped up the hedgehog and walked out of the living room in a huff and headed to the kitchen. He shut the sliding doors behind him.

"John turns into a hedgehog." Evans said evenly.

"Yes he does." Greg agreed.

"He was so cute!" Walters gushed, "That whole thing with the…you know…it was really…"

"Cute?" Evans supplied.

"Yeah, it was so freaking cute!" Walters agreed.

Before the conversation could go any further, Mycroft Holmes came through the door. He surveyed the room and raised an eyebrow at the drug squad.

"Hello, Mycroft. What brings you here?" Greg asked him pleasantly.

"I should ask you all the same thing." He deflected smoothly.

Just then Sherlock walked briskly in the room. He noticed his brother and smirked, "Ah, Mycroft, right on time for tea. Would you care for some cake?"

Mycroft rolled his eyes, "You know I haven't cared for cake for quite a while, Sherlock."

John appeared from the other entrance of the kitchen from the stairway, his hair sticking up in odd angles.

Mycroft looked at him in amusement, "Ah, I see you have been at your special way of doctoring today."

John smiled tightly at Mycroft, "Why hello to you as well! Would you care for a drink?"

Mycroft's eyebrow twitched at John's sarcastic tone but he carried on, "That would be lovely, thank you."

"Okay, I'll be just a mo!" John turned around and went back into the kitchen. "Sherlock, you want anything?" He called out to his friend.

"No, thank you." He replied automatically.

"Are you sure?" John asked again.

Greg elbowed Sherlock, and the penny dropped, "Well, if you insist." Sherlock said mildly.

"I do!"

Walters and Evans began to snigger, to Sherlock's confusion. John came back out with a large tray. He put the plate of biscuits on the coffee table. The yarders briefly saw a plastic container, but it was Anderson who managed to figure out what it was quicker than the others, "Is that a blood bag?" He asked aghast.

"Yes, it is." John told him nonchalantly. He moved over to Mycroft and handed it to him with a straw. Mycroft hung his umbrella on his elbow, put the straw in the bag and began to drink calmly.

Evans and Anderson's eyes were nearly popping out of their sockets. Mycroft raised an eyebrow at them, took the straw out of his mouth and asked them, "Yes? I there something I can help you with?" Everyone could see his red stained teeth. Walters heavily sat down on the sofa.

John walked over to Sherlock and handed him a plate with a raw steak on it. Sherlock took the proffered plate, "Thank you, John." He began to gnaw the raw piece of meat.

"Why are you eating that stake raw?" Sally asked him with a mix of trepidation and confusion.

"I liked this batch of the meat. The cow was grass fed. Do you want me to cook it and give you a piece?" Sherlock asked her cordially.

"NOT IN THE SITTING ROOM SHRERLOCK!" John's shout could be heard from the kitchen. He came out, "You can do it in the kitchen if you must. It's the closest to the fire extinguisher, we agreed on that!" He said fretfully.

"Why would-OH MY GOD!" Sally shrieked.

Sherlock had sneezed, and a stream of fire came from his mouth. In addition to that, a large pair of red leathery bat-like wings had snapped out from behind him.

John rushed into the room carrying a fire extinguisher, but he stopped and relaxed when he saw nothing was aflame. Sherlock wiped his nose with a tissue, and looked up, "Sorry, Donovan, I think the moving dust in the room-" he was cut off by another shriek, this one from Anderson, "Your eyes! They're gold!"

Indeed, when the detective raised his head everyone could see the color of his eyes had changed to a deep golden color.

Mycroft rolled his eyes, "Oh please!" Mycroft made an elegant hand gesture, "That hardly merits a scream."

Mycroft had hardly finished before Evans let out a startled yelp, because the television set had flicked to life. John rubbed his forehead. Mycroft frowned and gestured at the TV again. The set changed channels, but it did not turn off.

Sherlock languidly stretched on his seat and yawned, then he flopped back, "This might take a while." He commented lazily, as he settled in to watch Mycroft struggle. Mycroft had taken to snapping his fingers at the TV, with the result being the channels switching over faster. John settled down on the arm of Sherlock's chair and began to absently pet his curls. Sherlock began to purr. The yarders' attention was taken from Mycroft to the scene on the armchair. Their eyebrows rose at seeing Sherlock purr like a cat, his eyes closed and his wings draped languidly on the seat.

"This reminds me of a cartoon I saw a while back." Evans told Walters. Walters looked at him with raised eyebrows. "I was babysitting my niece!" Evans amended hastily.

Lestrade finally got bored, he gave out a frustrated sigh, "Okay, this has taken long enough!" He reached out his hand towards the remote control. It flew off of its perch on the coffee table and landed in his hand. As soon as the control was secured in his hand, he whirled on the spot and pointed it at the TV set. The TV turned off instantly and everyone let out a sigh of relief.

As if the team had collectively noticed what their DI had done, they turned toward him at the same time.

Before anyone could ask anything, Mrs. Hudson bustled in the living room. "Sherlock, dear," She said urgently. She waved her arm towards him, and everyone noticed her left hand was missing. They all gasped, but she continued undeterred, "Do you happen to have a-"

Sherlock rose from his perch on John's knee and cut her off, "Of course, Mrs. Hudson, there is one in the fridge."

"Thanks, dear!" She quickly went into the kitchen.

"What just happened?" Sally asked, clearly in shock.

"She needed a spare hand, which part of that confused you?" Sherlock asked her disdainfully as he tried to reclaim his previous head rest.

"A-a spare hand? A spare hand?" She was almost hysterical.

"Yes, dear, no need to fret." Mrs. Hudson told her airily, as she returned to the sitting room. She was rubbing the wrist of her now present left hand and twisting said appendage this way and that.

"How's the hand Mrs. Hudson?" John asked her.

"Fine, dear, just fine." She replied as she moved to go back down stairs.

"Would you like a younger version for the next time?" Sherlock asked, rubbing his head against John's hand. John got the message and continued petting his head.

Mrs. Hudson sniggered, "Oh my, if only you could go and find me all sorts of younger parts." She chuckled as she went out.

Sally slumped heavily on the sofa. Anderson made a contemplative face, "Well, I guess this whole thing kind of makes sense. Now I know how they all get along with each other."

"Yup, a whole lot more is making sense to me right now too." Evans said while ogling Sherlock purring contently while draped over John's knees. John raised his eyebrows at Evans. Evans had the decency to avert his gaze.

Lestrade's phone pinged, announcing the arrival of a text message. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at it with a bit of confusion. After all, mostly all of the people who'd text him were gathered here. He read the text and his eyes boggled.

"What's the matter, Greg?" John asked him with concern.

"Um…It's from the lab…"

"Is it a murder?" Sherlock asked him hopefully.

"No, not a murder." Greg answered him absently, "The, um, opposite, I guess?" he said uncertainly.

"A birth? Who's having a baby?" Walters asked.

"Um…I am, I guess." Lestrade asked in a daze.

Sally was looking nervous, "So…um…you are having a baby? With whom exactly?"

"I'm not sure if this is right. Apparently with my…er…my…um" He stammered.

Sherlock's eyes twinkled mischievously, "Oh come now inspector, don't be shy!" He said coaxingly, "There is no need to hide it any longer. You can say his name. We're all friends here."

"I'm sorry, did I here this right? His name? I think you really confused me there." Sally said with a hint of alarm.

Greg looked at Sherlock for a bit, before he caught on. John looked to be completely on board as well. Greg fidgeted a bit more, since he had caught only half of the plan, but he was ready to go along with whatever Sherlock had planned. "Well, I didn't know it would end up like this with, er, you know…"

"Who was it?" John prodded, "Because whoever it is, he has to man up to the responsibility, Greg. How are you going to tell him?"

"This is really awkward for me." Greg said lamely.

"Oh for the love of-" Sherlock huffed. He then turned towards Mycroft, "Congratulations Mycroft, you're going to be a father."

"WHAT?" Every one of the squad members, along with Mycroft and John asked. Though John had said ut with exaggerated astonishment.

Greg was blushing furiously, and Sherlock had a very smug smirk on his face. Mycroft rolled his eyes, "You all do realize that this is a biological impossibility, don't you?"

Sherlock cleared his throat, "Dr. Watson, is it impossible?"

John managed to put on a solemn face, "No, it is possible, though-"

"Thank you, doctor." Sherlock cut him off, "So, you see? You should have kept it in your-"

"Sherlock, that's enough!" Mycroft cut in.

"You knocked up my DI," Sherlock retorted, "you're the one who should be-"

Just then a weird whooshing and clanking sound filled the flat. Everyone looked about themselves to see what the noise was. Then a blue old fashioned police box appeared in the kitchen.

"Excuse me," Came the voice of Mrs. Hudson, as she hurried through the room and into the kitchen, "That's my ride!"

"Whoa! The TARDIS is your ride?" Squeaked Evans.

"Take me with you!" Walters pleaded.

Mr. Hudson looked at him contemplatively, then smiled, "Maybe next time dearie. I have to go and regenerate now!" she winked and went into the box. The noise came again and the box vanished.

Every one stared for a few moments.

"Yeah, that's enough crazy for me, I'm off to the pub!" Donovan shouted over to the room, "Who's with me?"

"I am!" came the unanimous reply of the squad members. They all filed out of the flat promptly.

After they heard the door shut, John and Sherlock dissolved into a fit of giggles.

Greg was still blushing, "What the heck was that about me being pregnant?" He yelled.

"What? Now Mycroft has to marry you!" John snickered.

"You're set for life!" Sherlock joined in.

"That was a low blow." Mycroft said icily, "And why on earth did you think this was a viable pairing? We have nothing in common."

"Hm…Well, you're both pretty set on marrying the two of us together." John said, "That's nothing random."

"Ooh, do I hear of a match? When's the wedding?" Mrs. Hudson burst into the room.

"The Doctor confirms it!" Sherlock crowed.

John took pity on their targets, "Hey, relax. We just wanted to have a change from being the targets for everyone's teasing. Giving you a taste of your own medicine, if you will."

"But why did I have to be pregnant?" Greg whined

"We were packing in as much mortification as we could." Sherlock answered him.

"So, um, who really is pregnant?" John asked the mortified DI.

"My ex-wife, but it can't be mine, because of very obvious reasons." Lestrade groused, "There is no reason the results would be sent to me. Even if she is pregnant, she can go and hang off of the real father. I'm no longer her emergency contact." He ended with a huff.

They had all moved to the sitting room, as technicians moved about in the kitchen, and packed up the cameras, screens, and projectors from there. Other technicians were moving equipment and computers down from the upstairs room.

"What was the concoction I drank?" Mycroft asked John.

"A mix of pomegranate and raspberry juice." John replied, "How did it taste?"

"It was fine." Mycroft answered, while removing the device that acted as a TV remote from under his coat sleeve and his palm.

A technician came into the room and fiddled with the portable holographic projector from behind Sherlock. The wings disappeared instantly. Sherlock unstrapped the contraption and handed it to the technician. Then he draped himself across John's lap again.

"So," Greg began, "What was the result of the experiment?"

"Better than I thought." Sherlock mused, "I was expecting at least a fainting. I have high hopes for Walters and Evans." He said while propping his head on a hand.

"Anderson and Donovan surprised me as well." John conceded, "I was actually expecting her to shoot one of us."

"Very amusing, you can move away from my brother now." Mycroft told John coolly.

"If I do, he'll crash to the ground." John replied. Sherlock was rubbing his eyes now. "Don't rub your eyes; the contacts might damage your retina." John chided him gently.

"Why don't you go and take the contacts out, Sherlock." Mycroft told his brother.

"Hmm, no." Sherlock drawled, "I'm quite comfortable where I am. It's warm and soft." He said while rubbing his cheek against John's arm, "What's this jumper made off, anyway?"

"Velvet yarn, why?"

Sherlock rubbed his nose in the jumper. Mycroft just rolled his eyes at his brother's antics and walked out of the flat.

A technician was walking out of the flat, carrying the Champagne colored log eared hedgehog.

"Stop!" Called Sherlock, "The hedgehog is staying." He said firmly.

The technician looked confused, "But, we were told that all-"

"Does he have an owner?" Sherlock cut him off.

"Well…" The man began hesitantly, "Not really, it came from a shop…"

"Excellent!" Sherlock crowed, "He's staying."

"Wait, Sherlock! Don't I have a say in this?" John protested.

"Oh please," Sherlock said dismissively, "You like Hamish, I like Hamish, why not go ahead and adopt him?"

"You named the hedgehog." Greg deadpanned, "And you're adopting him." He processed that information for a beat, then he shook his head and turned to leave. As he left, a technician herd him muttering, "And they whine why everyone thinks they're together. Might as well tie the knot and get it over with!"

After Greg left, Sherlock sprang from his perch and ran to the window. John steadied himself on the arm of the chair, then he stood up as well, and went to the recently vacated kitchen. Mrs. Hudson burst in the flat, "Did I hear this right? You two are adopting?" She asked ecstatically.

"We're keeping the hedgehog." John corrected her.

"Oh!" She said disappointed, "Well then, I guess I'll have to deal with disappointment again." She said ruefully.

"Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock called her, "Since you like match-making so much, why don't you set your skills on matching my brother with a certain somebody?"

Mrs. Hudson perked up at that, "Really? Who do you have in mind for him?"

John smirked to himself. This had the potential to keep Mycroft away from their flat for very long intervals, or make him worse than ever. Either way, John was going to announce code cake active!

With great thanks to my friends for their wonderful prank suggestions:CallToMuster for the Odd colored blood, Ennui Enigma for switching the TV on by hidden remote, and An Escaped Rabbit for attracting objects. The Mystrade and Johnlocke jokes were for Little Oswin Oswald.

After watching season 3, I now know Mrs. Hudson ships John and Sherlock, and she ships them hard! Imagine my surprise, especially after going over chapter two's end notes. Time to give her a new ship!

Oh my God, I can't believe it, it's done! Finally, it's done! My first multi-chapter and it took me over a year to finish. Sorry about that…

A big thank you to whoever read, reviewed, followed and Favorited this story, I admire your patience and am very grateful for your support! :D

Arty