"No, damn it! How many times do I have to tell you to flick your bloody wrist!"

"I am flicking!"

"No, you're jerking. Flicking and jerking are not the same. You're going to bugger up your arm doing that."

"Why can't I just use my wand, again?"

"It's more intimate if you use your hands."

"But I don't care if it's more intimate."

"Stop whining!"

"I'm not whining! I'm simply stating my difference of opinion, which is not the same as whining."

"HA. HA. Shut up! Put away your bloody wand and get to flicking that wrist or I swear, I will pinch your nipples."

"Oh, that really makes me want to get close enough to snog."

"Is that my bra?"

The attention of both men snaps to source of the voice -- the petite redhead standing in the den's doorway with a baby in her arms and an expression that's a mix of amusement and confusion on her face.

"Hey, sweets," Brand says nonchalantly as he adjusts the shoulder straps of the pink paisley brassier stretched over his white T-shirt. With a sigh, he turns back to Mycroft who's gone flush with embarrassment. "All right, Mikey, let's go. Strip it off me."