Sell My Soul
~oO0Oo~
Mycroft played with the edge of the umbrella with his fingers.
Jim had sat in the uncomfortable metal chair for nearly three days straight and all he had done was stare into the darkness.
He took a long sip from his tea cup and watched him. Jim Moriarty had an agenda. A very long, very complex agenda and Mycroft wanted to know what it was.
His higher ups had ordered that he be interrogated immediately. It's not as if you get Moriarty in a prison cell every day. The overly well-built men behind him were all arguing over how much physical interrogation they could use before they stepped over the line. As if there were legalities when it came to Jim Moriarty. He knew they would come to the same conclusion he'd come to the minute he'd heard Jim was in custody. It wasn't as if he was here for the view.
He took another long draw from his tea.
No, he thought to himself, it wouldn't be long now.
He settled into the uncomfortable metal chair and crossed his legs. His knuckles turned white as he gripped his umbrella out to his side.
Mycroft frowned at the state of the man before him. His hair was not gelled in place to perfection. His face was a strange pale pallor in the florescent lights. The white undershirt and thin pants he'd been allowed, hung off his figure because his captors had refused him any food. In fact, if Mycroft didn't know for a fact that this was James Moriarty in the flesh, he wouldn't have believed that he was capable of anything significant, let alone the title criminal mastermind.
Maybe that's what made Jim such a significant threat. If you didn't know better you would have thought him just a commoner; one of the average.
Until he smiled.
Mycroft found himself unsettled by the vicious playfulness that was carried through a single look. He hid it by smiling back.
"Glad you could come," Jim said, eyes twinkling as he took in Mycroft. "I was wondering when they'd realize you and I needed to have a chat." He tipped his head to the side and gave Mycroft a cheeky grin.
"Ah, yes. A chat." He remarked, pursing his lips at the poor choice in vocabulary. Jim Moriarty wanted anything but a chat. "You make it sound as if we're about to have tea and crumpets."
Jim lit up again and Mycroft couldn't help but think of the Cheshire cat.
He was suddenly serious. "Oh, marvelous. You caught on." He smiled faintly, shifting to the edge of his seat. "You know what I want." He set his hands on his knees, rattling his handcuffs.
Mycroft knew he was stepping into dangerous territory when he accepted the bait.
"And what would that be what exactly?"
"Chess and tea." He sounded triumphant.
The words were uttered with so much smugness that for a moment Mycroft didn't know what to say in reply.
"Chess," Mycroft licked his lips as he tested the waters. "And tea?"
"Yes, I do get bored you know. Stuck in here. Do you know what it's like?"
Jim was standing now. Slowly closing the distance between himself and Mycroft. "Do you know what it's like to be caged? To have nowhere to run?" Mycroft tensed as Jim leaned over him, hands reaching behind Mycroft's back to grip the rails of his chair, trapping Mycroft within the loop of his arms. He leaned down and nearly touched Mycroft's ear with his mouth. "Do you know what it's like?" He whispered and Mycroft felt the edges of his composure begin to crumble. "What it's like to be trapped like some deranged animal?"
The man snapped back and Mycroft took in a startled breath. Moriarty grinned and backed away.
"No…" He said slowly. "No you wouldn't understand would you. Oh well. Maybe another day." He slaps his hands together and slams back into his seat, still smiling.
Mycroft readjusts his grip on his umbrella trying to shake away the feeling of the madman's breath on his face.
"You can leave now." Jim says.
Mycroft had never expected to be excused.
"Leave. Remember, it's what I want first. Tit-for-a-tat." Jim sing-songs.
Mycroft was already standing and reaching for the door. He could feel Jim watching him as he left in the mirror.
"Come by tomorrow, we'll have some tea, "called Jim. "Oh and don't forget the chess!" He reminded Mycroft as if he were reminding his mother that she had palates on Tuesday. He almost shuddered at the thought of the man having a mother.
Mycroft let out a deep breath as the door finally shut behind him. That had been like nothing he had ever dealt with before. That… had been personal.
He found himself, only moments later, back on the other side of the glass; Jim was still in his chair. He knew the man couldn't see him, but as he slowly got out of his chair Mycroft had the uncanny feeling that Jim knew he was there. He stopped barely an inch from Mycroft's face; the only thing keeping them apart was the thin pane of mirror. Jim's nose was nearly pressed to the glass and for a moment Mycroft swore that Jim could see straight through the glass and was looking right at him.
Jim grinned.
Eventually he sat back down in his chair but Mycroft stayed, body frozen in place.
For the first time he fully understood what they meant when they said James Moriarty was a very dangerous man.
The next morning at 9 o'clock sharp Mycroft entered. He carried his own chair this time, setting it the proper distance from Jim.
Jim looked properly smug when it was all set up and he took his first sip of tea.
Mycroft spoke while he was drinking.
"That's my favorite tea. Earl Gray, a special blend from India and it costs over a 100£ per tea bag. I would savor it, who knows, it might be your last…"
Jim said nothing, just raised his eyebrows as if to say 'oh really?' and continued to sip.
Mycroft had always prided himself with his words. He could sweet talk any country into standing down from a war, but he found himself strangely struggling to find eloquent words to convey what he needed.
He tried anyway, "You realize I've done what you asked. It's my turn."
He was startled when Moriarty laughed and set down his tea. Jim crossed his legs and linked his fingers around one knee so that he could properly study Mycroft.
"You want the key code, correct?" He inquires.
"Of course." Mycroft nods.
"Well you can't have it."
"Chess and Tea. Exactly as you've requested; I've met the demands."
Jim started laughing so loud he almost thought the man would fall out of his chair. Moriarty sucked in breath and the laughing stopped. He was suddenly furious.
"You think a chess game and a cuppa are going to pay for MY FREEDOM?" He gestured wildly, standing from his seat.
He sat back in his chair. "Do you like chess Mycroft?" He asked calmly.
Mycroft could only nod and stare at the man. Jim reached for the chessboard and began to set up the pieces.
"Good, then you know that sometimes you have to sacrifice an important piece to win."
"Yes, it's basic theory." He acknowledged.
Jim turned the board so that he was playing white and moved forward a pawn.
"How much are you willing to sacrifice?" Jim asked softly.
He didn't like the sudden change in Moriarty's tone. "Because, you're asking me to give away my give away my soul." Jim looked up at him, his eyes intense and dark. "Do you have a soul to offer in exchange? Do you even have a soul?"
Mycroft tensed as the man reached across and hit the timer.
"Your turn Holmes."
The next morning Mycroft was prepared.
The chess game was still set out and Moriarty was sitting in his chair, eyes closed and his head turned towards the ceiling.
"You're early." He mumbled as if awakened from a deep sleep.
"It's not as if you were previously engaged." Mycroft opted for not taking the chair and instead hovered over the back of it, fingering the railing.
Jim kept his eyes closed.
Mycroft sunk into the chair after a moment and finally moved forward his black piece and hit the timer.
Jim opened one eye and peered out at the moved piece. He closed his eyes again and without looking, moved forward a knight and hit the timer.
Fifteen minutes into his third move Mycroft spoke, "Why Sherlock?"
Jim sighed like a petulant child. "You know exactly why I choose him."
"You find me boring." Mycroft admitted, finally choosing his move and snapping at the timer.
Jim smirked at the ceiling but made no move to play. "Yes!" He chuckled and finally looked at Mycroft. "Oh, you're not entirely boring, you do play an interesting chess game," he eyed the board, contemplating his move. "But in all honesty Mr. Holmes, you're lazy. I will admit you're smart.Very smart but rather dull."
He huffed and blocked Mycroft's advance and clicked the timer back.
Mycroft thought for a moment before saying, "You know the beautiful thing about chess, is that both opponents know the rules. Both know exactly how to defend each move and both know exactly how the game will end from the opening move." Jim hummed in agreement as Mycroft moved his piece. "But we still play anyway, simply because we're waiting for the unexpected."
Jim grinned and took Mycroft's bishop. "You realize the reason I choice him over you, was because I know you Mycroft Holmes. You choice power over peace. Not a very interesting choice. Smarter yes, but tragically predictable."
Mycroft nodded in agreement and shifted a pawn.
Jim grinned and for a moment looked like a predator that was about to plunge. Mycroft just played with his umbrella and watched the man.
"What would you do, Jim? Go for the heart and kill my queen? Or make it last and shoot down my knight?" Mycroft leaned in and looked the crazed man in the eyes, hoping that his experiment on the man would play through. "Because either way you have me. My hands are tied."
He leaned back again and they both contemplated the board. "So tell me, which one will you choose?"
Jim flashed him the predatory grin again and took Mycroft's queen.
Mycroft finally smiled and crossed his arms, taking in the man before him.
"You are right. I choice power over peace. But I think," And as he spoke he overtook Moriarty's rook. "You'll find that sometimes I'm not as predictable as you might think. You've forgotten that I am smarter than my brother. He was always horrible at chess, too eager to be solving the immediate problem than to actually consider what might happen afterwards." Jim looked up at him in realization.
"Checkmate." Mycroft said as he got up to leave. He didn't smile as he swung his umbrella. "Until tomorrow, Jim. I'll bring tea."
Nearly a week later Mycroft found himself serenely chatting with a madman about his younger brother.
It's not as if he'd been invited to reveal his brother's secrets. He found instead, that he rather enjoyed speaking about his younger sibling. It wasn't as if it was anything that was going to reveal Sherlock's weaknesses; Mycroft made sure of that. In reality, the most common topic was Sherlock's younger years and there wasn't much that could backfire from sharing a few stories about the boy's antics.
Moriarty slowly started dropping locations to some minor heists.
The more he talked about Sherlock, the more the man gave away. His superiors pushed for information and as long as Moriarty's information stayed accurate he'd keep talking.
Mycroft was calm when he walked into the room and set the folder into Jim's lap.
He pushed it off on to the floor. "Whoops." His eyebrows arching in innocence.
"You lied to me." Mycroft ignored the folder and focused on Moriarty.
"Oh, just got that now, did you?" He enquired.
"Tit-for-tat remember?"
"And that's exactly what you've been getting."
"Then what is this!" He yelled, motioning to the folder.
Moriarty glanced down at the folder and back at Mycroft, his eyes intense. "You asked for my 'soul'. All you've given me is cute conversation and some rather expensive tea. Unless you can offer me something worth the price, then all you'll get is rubbish." He spat the words at Mycroft.
"What do you want!?" Mycroft growled.
"Everything…"
Mycroft just stared into the dark brown eyes and waited.
"I want," Jim said venomously as he stood and faced Mycroft. "Everything. I want to know what his favorite class was in fifth grade; I want to know what he eats, if he does eat; I want to know why John Watson stays." He stepped closer to Mycroft. "I. Want. To Know. Every-thing. About Sherlock Holmes."
"We both know I can't do that." Mycroft said as Jim shuffled even closer.
"Oh! So you do have a soul after all? Tell me, you would trade the world's ultimate weapon for your brother? You! Mycroft Holmes, is going to disregard the safety of your nation for your brother? The sentiment is appalling."
"You are clever. Soul for a Soul." Mycroft sighed and then smiled ruefully. "And what makes you believe that I wouldn't just leave you here to rot. It wouldn't take long now, what? A week at the most?"
"As if your higher ups would allow you to."
"What? Rid the world of James Moriarty, they would be thanking me. I'd be promoted the moment you took your last breath."
"And the key-code? What would happen when it was released? Every criminal; the world's greatest master-minds to the common pick-pocket, would be able to walk into the Buckingham Palace and speak to the Queen. Personally. What would happen to your precious government then? What would happen to your power then, Mycroft Holmes?"
He took a step back from Jim, trying to see straight as the master-mind laid out his terms. Mycroft shook his head as Moriarty smiled knowingly.
"Not so easy now is it. Not just games and tea anymore."
Mycroft rubbed at his mouth, thinking.
"You'll kill him." Mycroft says softly.
"Eventually. Oh don't worry. It won't be rushed; you'll have time to patch together your relationship before his untimely demise." Jim clasped his hands together and bounced on the balls of his feet.
Mycroft took in a deep breath; his grip on his umbrella threatening to break the handle.
"Come now Mycroft. We both know I was going to get to him at one point or another. Don't look so crushed."
"What do you want to know?" Mycroft asked slowly.
Jim flashed him a vicious smile.
"Everything."
Jim asked for a final chess game, before he gave away the final piece of the key-code.
Mycroft was fairly resigned to the fact that there was no going back.
His superiors, when they had been notified of the terms of the agreement, had all shook his hand on the way out and thanked him for his sacrifice. 'It was for the good of the country,' they told him.
He couldn't help but think back to when Jim had told him that he had to sacrifice an important piece to win.
As they played the final game, there was really no point in speaking.
Mycroft was reaching his breaking point when Moriarty blocked his numerous attempts at check.
Jim's smug expression the entire game gave away the man's pleasure.
Their game was drawing to a close and Jim reached out and picked up his final piece, surveying it in his hands.
"I am not Sherlock Holmes." He said quietly.
"No." Mycroft replied, frustrated that the madman was suddenly stating the obvious.
"And yet you compared me to him."
"Your methods in chess are surprisingly similar."
"Ah, yes, that. You see. This is why I chose your brother over you. You get so caught up in what you want to happen that you forget that sometimes that you need to be waiting for the unexpected." Jim spun the piece in his fingers. "I was right though. You have no soul. You could have traded yours and yet, when cornered, you hand over your brother's on a silver platter." Jim caught Mycroft's eyes. "I find that startlingly cold. Even for a Holmes."
Mycroft found that there was nothing left to say.
"Oh, don't look so put out Mycroft. You are pathetically sore loser, you know. Humm, must be all that Holmes pride. You know pride can be deceiving. It's best used with an audience. Pride is hardly ever useful when you're alone." He gasped and looked appalled for a moment. "Oh dear me, that's what you are now, aren't you, all alone." He shrugged, grinned and finally set down the pawn in its final resting place and stood up. "Oh my, look at the time, I best be off. Call me; we'll have tea some time." He patted Mycroft on the shoulder before strutting out of the room.
Mycroft glanced back down at the chess board where the pawn sat beside his king. He frowned and slowly picked up the piece and looked at the bottom.
The initials MH where carefully carved in the bottom of the piece. He followed his hunch and picked up the king and glanced at the underside.
SH was inscribed into the wood.
He bit the inside of his cheek as he walked into the room on the other side of the mirror. He poured himself a large glass of scotch and stared at the 'Sherlock' that had been scratched into the mirror. He felt as if Moriarty had placed it there on purpose to mock him.
He raised his glass in an imaginary toast to Jim's last move.
Checkmate.
So, I try to stay away from hypothesizing about what happens in the 'forgotten' scenes in Sherlock. But I honestly couldn't help myself. Mycroft is my favorite character and it fascinates me at how terrified he looked in Reichenbach when he was telling John about when he was with Jim. And this is what happened.
Did you like it? I would love your opinion.
If you want anything else like this, let me know.