BBC Sherlock Imagines (Book 2)

Sherlock: Nerf or Nothing

Request for nightie0914

(Don't get your hopes up, no Johnlock in this imagine... Just couldn't stop laughing when I saw the gif)

~

"Sherlock stop giggling," you ordered, putting your hand over the receiver of the phone so Mycroft wouldn't hear, even though you could still hear it ringing. He uncupped his hands from his mouth, pressing his lips hard together to suppress the giggles and getting quiet just in time for Mycroft to come on the phone.

"What is it (y/n)?"

"MYCROFT YOU NEED TO COME TO 221B NOW!" you yelled.

"What happened?" he asked, panic instantly breaking through the stoicness of his voice.

"It's Sherlock. Please just hurry!"

"Is he okay? What's w-"

"WE DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS MAN, GET OVER HERE NOW!"

The line went silent and you grinned as Sherlock reached out and smeared the black paint under your eyes to match his.

"He'll be here in 6 minutes. 5 if he thinks I'm using again."

"Are you sure this isn't too, mean?" you asked.

"(Y/n), this is a harmless prank really."

You raised your eyebrows in disbelief, then rolled your eyes and pulled your bandana tight around your head. You and Sherlock mirrored each other in style - black bandanas pulled around heads, war paint smeared underneath both eyes, and you were both dressed in black from head to toe. You really didn't need to be so dressed up, but it was a Saturday and Sherlock had no cases and you had no work.

"Grab your weapon," you ordered, and you both walked to the kitchen table where two machine nerf guns were laid out, bullets scattered around them. You each grabbed one, then divided the bullets evenly between you two. When finished, you cocked back the gun at just the moment you heard the front door downstairs open. "Places," you ordered next. You hid in the corner between the wall in the couch while Sherlock waited behind in the kitchen.

It was all silent, besides the sound of Mycroft's footsteps coming up the stairs, and his cane along next to him. The door opened and he stepped in. "(Y/n)? Sherlock?" You didn't answer. "You two cannot call me to come here and then-"

"NOW!" yelled Sherlock. You sprung up from your space behind the couch, pelting Mycroft with as many bullets as you could. You were attacking from the right, Sherlock on his left. He attempted to use his umbrella to block the shots, but you had been training for so long, usually on John when he came home with groceries, that every shot was on point. Eventually you tired out your ammo, and both you and Sherlock dropped the guns laughing.

"Oh so you think this is funny?" asked Mycroft. You looked up to find him holding a gun, a real gun, one that pulled out and was attached to the handle of his umbrella. Immediately the laughter in the room ceased.

"Mycroft it was just a joke..."

The gun, which had been pointing at Sherlock, turned to you. "Well I am tired of your constant jokes. Maybe I'll play a joke on you now. It will be called," he thought for a second, a sick smile on his face, "YOU'RE DEAD!"

"Mycroft, my brother, who put psychopath in your cake this morning?" asked Sherlock, trying to diffuse the tension.

Mycroft sent him a sideways glare, then motioned with his head for Sherlock to move where he could watch both of you at the same time. Sherlock obeyed, even going as far to put his hands in the air in surrender. After Sherlock planted himself a couple feet away from you, Mycroft turned back to you. "Ever since my brother started intermingling with you, he has lost focus on what is really important. Solving cases. Saving London. Instead he's too busy watching meaningless movies and sleeping at night!"

Your eyes widened as he shook the gun at you in anger. Was he really that angry? You knew he was a tightass, but this was just a joke. You and Sherlock had been doing this stuff to him for months now, and he always laughed about it in the end.

"I have no choice," he said, bringing his hand back to ready the gun. You heard the click back, and you held your breath as he steadied the gun, pointing it straight at your forehead.

"You can't be serious Myc-"

"Try me," he said. Then it was like the world went slow. You watched his finger press on the trigger, while in your peripheral you saw Sherlock jumping in front of you. You were too in shock to move as you watched the love of your life jump in front of you to save yours. Tears pricked at your eyes, stinging them with bitter heartbreak.

Then you realized they weren't tears. They were bubbles. Bubbles were coming out of Mycroft's gun. And he was laughing. And Sherlock wasn't bleeding, he just lay on the ground moaning and muttering curse words at his brother. You looked up to meet Mycroft's eyes, and he smirked at you, before lifting up his gun and blowing on the barrel of it to cool it off. "Gotcha," he said.

You collapsed down next to Sherlock in laughter, who was trying to hold back a chuckle as well. You breathed a sigh of relief, not believing that you actually thought Mycroft was going to shoot you, with a real bullet, and kill you...

"I was believable wasn't I?" he laughed.

"Almost too believable," you replied, raising your eyebrows. You helped Sherlock up, his war paint now smeared around his face.

"Well played, blood," he said, reaching out his hand towards his big brother.

Mycroft took it, shaking it like he was closing a business deal. "I had been planning this for awhile now, felt good. Now I know why you two hooligans partake in this pranking quite often."

"I'll admit, it was impressive, and you definitely had me fooled" you said, punching him playfully on the arm.

He snickered, looking between you two proudly with his nose stuck up proudly in the air. "Yes well good luck beating that. I doubt you will, but you can try."

You and Sherlock shared a teasing look before turning to Mycroft and threatening, "try us."

A/N

Hi

GO READ franckribery's NEW STORY "Psychopath [Moriarty]"
YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT CHILDREN.

Random: What would you like your last words to be before you die?

"The earth without art is just 'eh'."
- Unknown