Fandoms: Sherlock, Harry Potter

Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Mummy Holmes, Mycroft Holmes, Weasley Twins

Prompt: Mummy Holmes reminiscences on a prank she, her youngest, and his red haired friends pulled on her eldest shortly after he moved out. No one refuses Mummy Holmes without some sort of compensation due.

Prompt Made By: Terri'smind

Disclaimer: I don't own the following series(es) or any character(s) that follow, and unless I. H. Scribe is listed after Prompt Made By chances are I don't own the idea for this story either.

"Oh, come now Mycroft," Mummy said. "It isn't that bad."

"If I'm forced to move back Mummy, you'll only have one son by the end of the day, and it won't be Sherlock," Mycroft said half-heartedly. He'd never actually kill his younger brother – perhaps maim, or grievously injure, but never kill.

"Oh for heaven's sake Mycroft."

"I have to go Mummy. I have a meeting."

"Mycroft Holmes, don't you dare-!" Mycroft hung up, wincing. That was going to come back to haunt him, he just knew it would.

Sherlock was surprised when Mummy entered his room. He and his friends Fred and George were both surprised when she told them her suggestion.

If Mycroft were to have seen the grins on the faces of Fred, George, and Sherlock he would have been on his way to a meeting conveniently taking place in another country.

Mycroft's first clue that something was wrong was his hat flying away from him. There was only a small breeze, not even big enough to knock the hat off his head, much less take off with it. Mycroft shook it off as nothing. He'd been meaning to get a new hat anyway.

Mycroft's second clue that something was wrong was when his teacup – his favorite teacup – bit his nose. Andrea – today's name for his name changing assistant – found it far more amusing then he did.

Mycroft's third clue was when his replacement drink – orange juice – turned into fizz that immediately and quickly shot up his nose.

Mycroft decided something had to be done.

Mycroft strode into Harry's office, still smelling nothing but oranges, with a bruise beginning to grow on his nose.

"Looks like you've had an encounter with a biting teacup," Harry said, smiling. Mycroft glared at him, and Harry's eyebrows shot up. "You did have an encounter with a biting teacup?"

"And orange juice that shot up my nose."

"Oh dear. I'll make you some tea, without the biting part."

Mycroft pretended he didn't hear Harry's snickering.

Under Harry's advice, Mycroft returned home to confront Sherlock and his miscreant friends. His mother met him at the door, and led him to the kitchen.

"Here Mycroft dear, have a custard crème," she said, pushing a plate filled with them towards him. Had Mycroft noticed Sherlock and the Weasley Twins peeking their heads around the corner, he would have been far more suspicious.

Mycroft erupted into feathers. It was a specially-made Canary Crème that wouldn't let him molt for an hour, giving his mother plenty of time to scold him for hanging up on her.

"Really, Mycroft, you should know better than to hang up on your mother," Mummy said. "The boys' were awfully put out by it."

Mycroft huffed through his nose, doing his best to ignore Sherlock and the Twins laughter in the other room.

"The looks on their faces while they were planning to avenge me were utterly terrifying," Mummy continued.

There were looks? Mycroft thought. That single thought would become the reason he had anywhere Sherlock resided bugged with cameras and audio recorders.

As soon as he molted he hightailed it out of the manor, but not before giving into his mother's demands of monthly visits.

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I. H. Scribe