A/N: I'm still working on all my other stories, but I was watching the Hounds of Baskerville and couldn't resist writing this. I always wondered what exactly Sherlock said to convince his brother to let him in; this is my idea.

"Hello brother dear, how are you?"

Mycroft eyebrows raise in surprise. Sherlock, voluntarily contacting him, calling him. What did he want now?

"What is it this time Sherlock?"

"I'm hurt brother," Sherlock mocked, before Mycroft heard him murmur to John that he would be back momentarily. "Could it not be that I am simply calling because I am concerned for your well-being?"

Mycroft doesn't bother to hide his snort. "Really Sherlock, what have you done now?"

He could almost imagine his brother pouting. "Why do you always assume the worst Mycroft?"

"Besides the fact that with you it usually is?" Mycroft asked sarcastically, "Or because of the fact that my access all areas pass was taken and someone broke into Baskerville pretending to be me?"

Sherlock sighed. "It was for a case." His tone was unrepentant, and it seemed that he was only addressing this issue to move on to the real reason for his call. Despite himself, Mycroft is curious.

"What do you need this time?" he asked, rephrasing his earlier question. "Did they throw you out before you were able to look for whatever you were searching for?" That is a plausible reason for the call, but not for why Doctor Watson would have to go elsewhere while Sherlock made this call. It's a pity that Lestrade hasn't reported back yet.

"Not exactly," was Sherlock's less-than-helpful reply. "On my foray into Baskerville, I accomplished everything I had hoped to in that point in time, however, new evidence means that I need to go back."

"New evidence?" Mycroft asked. This is becoming more interesting, mostly at the thought of what he could make his brother promise in return for this favor. Take the next case, without whining? Go visit Mummy and behave yourself? Promise that you are off those blasted drugs completely? Sherlock's voice cuts through his musings.

"I was called down here to investigate a 'monstrous hound' my client claimed to have seen. I believed that he was nothing more than a lunatic…until I saw it too."

Mycroft froze. "What?" Not his most eloquent response, but of all the things he expected Sherlock to say, that was not it. Sherlock Holmes, analytical consulting detective had seen the demon hound?

"I believe there was a drug in Henry's sugar," Sherlock said, seeming to know where Mycroft's mind had wandered. "John didn't see the dog, but Henry and I did. John and I have eaten and drank exactly the same things except for one thing. John doesn't take sugar in his coffee. I need to test to see if John will be affected in the same manner I was. I already was able to get him to ingest some of the sugar without knowing what my motive was, but I need a safe yet plausible place to test my theory. The first lab we searched would be perfect, however I am unable to return without permission from a government official, even one occupying a minor position."

The last words had been said sarcastically, and Mycroft couldn't help but chuckle. Really, Sherlock would continue to amuse him. Feeding contaminated sugar to his flatmate to attempt to provoke a hallucination that would likely terrify the other man, simply to solve the case. He shook his head.

"Twenty-four hours Sherlock," he said, "And you owe me."

"And I'm sure you will collect," Sherlock drawled before hanging up, not bothering with saying goodbye.