"JEWEL THEFT" blared out at Mycroft Holmes from the front page of his daily copy of the Sun, as he set it down and sighed. They had been interrogating Prisoner No. 3 for months now, with no success. Mycroft felt personally responsible for this case, as this was the man who had tried to kill his brother on several occasions. "Moriarty…" he muttered to the empty room.
Minutes later he stood in front of a heavily guarded concrete cell. Having checked his security card, the nearest soldier unlocked the barred door.
"He still isn't responding, sir." She whispered as the government official walked past. He glanced at her – it was unusual for a guard to speak to him so openly – and thought that perhaps he had been holding the prisoner too long… But no, they couldn't give up now, not when they had just discovered another possible munition to get him talking.
James Moriarty wasn't the perfectly manicured man he had once been. Without access to proper bathroom or any professional health care, he looked on the edge of death. He sat on the cold floor, facing the wall in dirty prison regulation clothing. He didn't turn as Mycroft entered the room.
"Have you worked it out yet, Holmesy?" He asked tauntingly, as he had done since the first time Holmes had visited the cell, two months ago. He tilted his head, like a dog, towards Mycroft and smiled slightly. "Oh, you clever boy!" he said, looking Holmes up and down, "You've understood… some of my wishes…"
-Knowing the massive intelligence of the man, it made Mycroft feel very uncomfortable that they were playing along with him at all, but it was essential that they discovered as much about the man as possible. Moriarty had stolen the Crown Jewels, broken in to the Bank of England and released all the inmates of the prison of which he was now a resident, in one minute, precisely eight weeks ago!
Mycroft sat down on a metal chair and looked at the dishevelled being in front of him.
"Yes, I believe we have "understood" some of your requests – but why should we listen to them?" Moriarty gave a mock look of hurt surprise and what Mycroft thought was a fake laugh – but knowing the man's black sense of humour it was hard to tell.
"Don't joke with me, Mycroft, "we" doesn't come in to it at all" perhaps the laugh had been real? There was an unusual edge of steel in his voice. "You realised what I wanted, what I would speak for, and you are going to give it to me… But you haven't got long now, have you? Not long before you must let justice have me!"
Mycroft shifted slightly in his chair, but didn't bother guessing how Moriarty had discovered that his trial in the Crown Court was just two weeks away – even in Pentoville Prison he was still the twenty-first century's biggest criminal mastermind.
-"You will only talk if I tell you about my brother. If I talk about Sherlock… But how do I know that you will keep your side of the deal?" Telling James about his archenemy was not what Mycroft had had in mind when he had first interrogated him.
"I'll keep my side of the bargain – and you know I will." The other man murmured. It was like Moriarty was whispering the words of the devil in his ear, because Mycroft Holmes knew that James would talk, because he wanted to hear as much of Sherlock Holmes's life story as possible.
After Mycroft had told Moriarty all he felt safe to reveal about his brother's babyhood years he leaned forward in his chair and asked his one man audience what he would do with the knowledge of the consulting detective's early life.
"I might tell you that… in a while. But not today. I don't know enough about your dear brother to be sure yet, anyway."
Holmes the elder exhaled slowly and stood up. "Well then, what are you going to tell me? How about what you are planning to say before the judge?"
Moriarty slid out of his crouch and came to Mycroft's eye level. "Nothing. I am going to say nothing at all." He leaned in closer, and Mycroft could feel his brother's enemy's breath on his face. "But I will tell you more, much more, if you would just listen to my other request…"
Mycroft stiffened slightly then jumped as the door opened to admit the guard who had spoken to him outside the cell. He turned away and walked out of the concrete room, but not before he had caught a look of pure longing in the prisoner's eyes.
-Though Mycroft had set his top psychiatrists to try and decipher what Moriarty had meant when he vowed that he would "say nothing at all", he knew that they wouldn't find anything. He also knew that Moriarty would do what he promised and say nothing to the judge… just as he knew what James would really open up to. But he didn't know if he could answer that need – and doubting himself was something Mycroft Holmes never did. Who could he talk to about this? He glanced across the car seat at Agent 47, or Anthea, as she liked to be called. She was, as usual, immersed in her phone. No, not her…
The car drew up outside the intimidating prison building. The CCTV camera on the outside wall scanned the limousine as it passed through security. Mycroft tutted and keyed in a command on his iPhone. The camera swivelled away from the black car.
When Holmes entered the cell he could see that Moriarty had attempted to clean himself up. It had almost worked, but a bored guard must have messed up his hair after he had washed it in the cold water from the sink in the corridor outside, as most of it was sticking out at odd angles.
"You have worked it all out, Holmesy!" There was an odd note in his voice – but not a harsh sounding one… More one of eager anticipation.
Mycroft sat down in his chair. "Yes, I believe I have." There was something unusual in his speech too – but neither man new if it was anticipation or anxiety…
Mycroft finished telling James about his and Sherlock's mother and lent towards Moriarty. "James. Are you… are you sure about this?"
"You know I am. I took the liberty of removing the cameras and microphones from this room, so no one would ever know! You wouldn't agree with it if you thought I wasn't. Well, maybe you would?"
Mycroft sighed. It was true. He probably would. He might even have done it if it hadn't been the only way to discover Moriarty's secret. The only way to protect his brother…
He stared at Moriarty, suddenly leaving behind all excuses of National Security, and took the prisoner's face in his hands and kissed him.
About a quarter of an hour later Mycroft and James were locked in a loving embrace on the back wall of the cell when he door began to grate open. Mycroft sprang away instantly, straightening his clothes as he cursed himself for forgetting the half an hour time limit he had set for these meetings. He looked at Moriarty and said casually "I'll arrange for a longer session tomorrow", then left the room. With the guard he had noticed acting oddly a few days ago, when he had begun to talk about his brother. Mycroft felt quite giddy with emotion as he picked up his umbrella and walked towards his limousine.
"Anthea –"
"My name is Jane." Agent 47 interrupted.
"Oh yes, of course… Jane, lengthen the remaining meetings with him to two hours from now on."
"Who with who, sir?" She was in a world of her own on her iPhone, or more likely arranging for some massive crime-lord in this one to be annihilated.
"James Moriarty and myself, Mycroft Holmes."
Over the next few days it was only the presence of Agent 47 that prevented Mycroft from spending his time counting the minutes until he next saw James. Their relationship was growing stronger every day and kissing James always made Mycroft's heart stumble and race. On the professional side, which he had to remind himself to return to towards the end of their meetings, he was gaining more and more information about his lover's involvement in the thefts – but then his lover was learning a huge amount of Sherlock's life story as well.
James and Mycroft's clothes were lying in a heap on the floor of the cell, whilst there owners were spooning against the far wall. James turned around to touch his lips to Mycroft's, but then pulled away slightly. At the confused look on his lover's face, Jim whispered
"We only have two more days…"
Mycroft's response was to hold James tighter and murmur back
"I'm not going to think about that."
James sighed in contentedly and kissed Mycroft once more.
The limousine pulled up outside New Scotland Yard. Holmes the elder was in a terrible state, which only showed in a slight tremor of his hand, but Agent 47 noticed.
"We're at New Scotland Yard, sir, for our meeting with D. I. Lestrade about Prisoner No. 3's trial tomorrow – sir?"
He started, paused, then nodded and got out of the car.
Mycroft and Agent 47 walked through the offices of the police force towards the Detective Inspector's. Sergeant Donovan was waiting for them, but Lestrade was no where to be seen.
"He's at your freak brother's house," the Sergeant informed them blandly, "Asking him why Moriarty said to "Get Sherlock". He probably won't be long, your brother will probably tell him precisely how and why he did it in two minutes flat."
Mycroft had often had the impression that Sally Donovan didn't much like Sherlock.
After twenty minutes a harassed looking Lestrade strode into the office and slumped into a chair. He shook his head, looked at Sally, then at Mycroft.
"He doesn't understand. The great Sherlock Holmes doesn't understand!" The amazement and disappointment in his voice was clear. Sally barked out a laugh and then stormed out of the room, muttering something like
"…freak finally met his match…"
Lestrade shook his head a few more times, before snapping out of it and standing up to talk to the older Holmes brother.
"I've got my six best restraining people to take Moriarty to court tomorrow, but do you want to check them out? There's an ex-army officer, a…"
Mycroft almost ran through the bleak corridors to the cell, determined to get as much time on his own with James as was officially possible. As soon as the massive door had been barred from the outside, Mycroft embraced James with a ferocity no one could have expected from the prim government official. Soon they were naked and entirely occupied with each other's bodies. They didn't talk until the last few minutes of their time together, as they were getting dressed.
"So, tomorrow you will be charged." They could both hear the hopefulness in Mycroft's voice – if James was sentenced severely enough, there was a chance that they could still see each other.
"What makes you think I will be found guilty?" Jim said, smiling slightly. "I'm not offering any evidence against or for my case – probably because I'm innocent and very confident of the fact!"
"You are going to plead not guilty?" Mycroft was shocked that James would even think about saying so.
"Of course I am! I'm entirely innocent, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"And you think you can get the jury to believe that?"
"Oh, I have my methods…" Moriarty was smiling widely now. It did not occur to Holmes to be worried as they shared one last kiss.
"Oh and Holmesy?" James called as Mycroft left his cell five minutes later, "As to what I shall do with the information regarding your brother, I plan to destroy him!" The metal door closed.
Mycroft sat in his office and stared at the wall. He had been there since he had left James Moriarty's cell three hours ago. It still hadn't really sunk in, that Moriarty hadn't loved him, hadn't cared for him. That he had just been using Mycroft to get at Sherlock.
Another hour later a security alarm flashed on Mycroft's computer. He glanced at it, then cursed himself for being such an idiot. The guard that had talked to him that day in the corridor had been taken away for questioning after she had been seen smuggling hi-tech recording and hacking devices into Moriarty's cell.
"He has his methods…" Mycroft groaned. He answered the alert with a few clicks, picked up his ever-present umbrella and walked away.