Mycroft Holmes was sitting in his office at home when his mobile buzzed with a message from 'Anthea', his assistant. Her name would change depending on who she was talking to, though she seemed to like 'Anthea'.
'Your brother has forced his way in. I think it may be urgent.'
Mycroft sighed…Sherlock always had something "urgent".
'Thank you, I will take care of it,' he texted back, right as Sherlock burst through the door.
"Ah, you could knock you know," Mycroft admonished as he set down his phone. He folded his hands under his chin, a Holmes' brother's trait, and looked at Sherlock, observing every detail of his "urgent" state.
Sherlock appeared completely normal- to most people at least. His face showed no sign of stress, his body was steady and composed, and his clothes and general appearance were well put together. But Mycroft was not most people. Mycroft knew his brother, as much as Sherlock did not want to admit it. Mycroft could sense rather than clearly see that something was wrong. Something in Sherlock's expressive eyes told him something was off. The only thing that Mycroft could deduce that could get to Sherlock this way was John. He knew Sherlock loved him- not in a romantic way, but it was indeed love. Sherlock couldn't recognize it, not yet, but Mycroft knew. Mycroft may say that caring is not an advantage, but he didn't deny its existence.
Sherlock addressed him clearly, his voice only slightly faltering. He tried to cover it with a façade of confidence, but Mycroft knew better.
"Mycroft, you know I do not like to visit you," Sherlock began.
"Hello to you too, little brother. I am fine, thank you for asking," Mycroft said dryly. Sherlock glared at him but continued.
"Mycroft, I need to ask a favor…"
"Oh dear, what have you done, Sherlock? You never ask me…" Mycroft began but Sherlock interrupted.
"I believe Moriarty may have set some surveillance near or in my flat, and I know you know everything that goes on with or around me and I thought you may be able to confirm this," Sherlock said with only the slightest bit of contempt in his voice. This did not go unnoticed by Mycroft.
"And why would Moriarty want to watch you?" Mycroft asked, though he knew the reasons why. Just a few weeks ago he had been in the same room with the criminal, watching him withstand all interrogation until Mycroft himself walked in. Mycroft told things to Moriarty that he was beginning to regret…but Sherlock didn't need to know that right now. Mycroft kept his face emotionless as he waited for Sherlock's response.
"You know of the events at the pool, Mycroft. You know he would come back at some point- I am asking for your assistance."
Mycroft considered what would drive Sherlock to ask for his help in this way. It must have something to do with John, but he didn't think he'd find out by asking directly. Perhaps he should wait it out a bit and get the footage for Sherlock, and see what was revealed from there.
"Ok, Sherlock. I will get the footage for you. Only if you plan on explaining yourself better when I do, understood? I will not be left out of the loop this time," Mycroft stated with finality.
"Understood," replied Sherlock. He looked unwavering into Mycroft's eyes before he turned and left the office, going into a separate room where such records were kept.
Sherlock estimated he had about 3 minutes to complete what he had to do.
Mycroft's computer was stationed on his desk, the most updated computer available, of course. Sherlock had a portable storage drive he swiftly plugged into the USB drive. Accessing the main screen, Sherlock began to try to search through Mycroft's files, all of which were individually password protected.
Sherlock began to select files from the most encrypted folders he could find. He individually worked out each password, knowing that he only had so much time before Mycroft would return. Mycroft thought his passwords were so difficult, Sherlock thought to himself. When he successfully opened 5 of the most important files he could get to, he downloaded them to the drive and waited, drumming his fingers in impatience as the progress bar continued to rise.
70%...75%...82%...
"Come on, come on!" Sherlock whispered to the screen.
Finally, 100% flashed on the screen, and Sherlock ripped the drive from the computer, getting up while doing so. Wrapping his coat around him, he looked out the door and saw no one in the hallway. Making his way back to the entrance of the house, he turned one last time to make sure no one had followed him. Leaving the front door, Sherlock began to run. He ran to the main road, breathless as he called for a cab. Once inside and safely away from Mycroft, Sherlock slowly opened his hand and looked at the drive that would help bring John home to him. Nothing mattered more to him than that. And as Mycroft walked back into his office with the footage Sherlock so desperately wanted, he let the disc fall to the floor as he realized what had happened. Checking the computer screen only confirmed what he already knew. Sherlock had stolen his most confidential files, the files only Mycroft had access or control over, and they were probably on their way to Moriarty right now.
Sherlock was going to disgrace Mycroft by labeling him a traitor and perhaps even a spy by revealing those documents to the most dangerous man Mycroft had ever known. Mycroft's reputation was going to be used for ransom.
Mycroft sat down, slumping in his chair. His hands came to his face in defeat, as a shaky sigh escaped him. He knew Sherlock would do anything for John, but this? This was going to be a nightmare.
Sherlock finally reached 221B and threw money at the cabbie, running to the front door. Sprinting upstairs, he flung the door open and grabbed his laptop. Grabbing his phone from his coat pocket, he texted the number that had sent him the first message.
'I have something you will want-SH'
Almost immediately his phone received a reply.
'Send it'
Sherlock opened his laptop and uploaded the files onto the hard drive. He saved them to an email and sent them to the number on his phone. As the files sent, Sherlock began to shake. This would be the destruction of his brother…but he couldn't regret his decision now.
'These are files only Mycroft could have access to, and if they are leaked the blame will be solely on him- he will be labeled a traitor. There is no other way to hurt my brother than this.-SH'
'Good…you knew what I wanted. Ok, here is your first clue for finding Johnny boy!'
Image Downloading…
Sherlock held his breath…he needed something to go on, his mind was racing in anticipation.
A picture downloaded onto the screen, and at first Sherlock had a difficult time deciphering what he was seeing.
It seemed to be an old house, long abandoned. The house was falling apart, its front white shutters falling off and the pillars holding up the story above were showing massive structural damage. It was a miracle that it was still standing. There were no discerning signs as to where the house could be located, so the clue was not much of a clue at all.
'Good luck…'
Sherlock almost screamed in frustration. Now what?
Suddenly his phone trilled at a new message.
Video message downloading…
Sherlock gripped the phone tightly, resting his arms on the table to steady his hands. When the video opened, Sherlock's jaw fell open and he almost fell out of his chair.
John appeared onscreen, alive, but badly beaten. His head was down, his chin resting on his chest. He was tied to a chair, and when he looked up Sherlock could see his battered face. One eye was swollen, and lacerations covered his face. His lip was split and a recent head wound near his temple must be making him dizzy. A voice spoke off camera, telling John to speak. John remained silent at first, but when the voice came again, commanding this time, John looked directly into the camera at Sherlock.
"Sherlock, I have been instructed to tell you that you have another task- another challenge to try to set me free. If you succeed, you will be given another clue that can aid in my release."
Sherlock realized John must be reading off of cards above the camera, and he was doing so with great difficulty. John was a former Captain, he did not take orders- he gave them.
"Moriarty is aiding a terrorist cell in planting a bomb tomorrow afternoon in one of the busiest tube stations in London. You are to place the bomb without being seen, in the correct location, at the correct time. The package with all of the instructions you need will be brought to your doorstep tomorrow morning."
John's voice was breaking, and Sherlock's heart was right behind.
"There will be hundreds of causalities, if you do your job correctly. There is only one chance to get it right. If you do not do as you are told…they will make me the bomb, and send me in to finish the job."
Sherlock's stomach dropped. Sherlock will never forget the fear he felt when he saw John strapped into that jacket. John was calm and composed, a true soldier, and Sherlock tried to appear unfazed, but he knew his fear had shown. He would never be as brave as John, but he would do anything to get John back, and if that meant planting a bomb…
Suddenly, as if hearing Sherlock's thoughts, John's eyes lit up, a fire burning behind them. He sat up straighter in his chair, pulling at his bindings and leaning towards the camera as best he could. The words flew out of him as fast as he could manage.
"Sherlock, listen to me! Do not do this! I am not worth…!"
The video cut off, but the audio remained, and right before the audio cut out, the last thing Sherlock heard was John scream.
