Chapter 4
By the time Mycroft went back into the room, Sherlock and John were already standing.
"Leaving so soon?" He asked.
"Yes," said Sherlock. "We need to go to St. Bart's, look at the scene again."
Mycroft nodded.
"If you need anything, you know how you can reach me."
Sherlock nodded.
"I won't be gone too long. I don't want to wake you tonight after all," said Sherlock.
That was right. He was staying with him. How could he had forgotten that?
It was probably because he had something much bigger to deal with than his brother's sleeping arrangements.
"Take your time. You won't bother me," said Mycroft with a quick smile.
Sherlock raised a brow at the quick smile, but said nothing. Mycroft knew though, that Sherlock would be doing a full interrogation once he arrived home later that night. With one more nod in his direction, Sherlock left his office with John, out to investigate how Moriarty was still alive.
Once they were gone, Mycroft set right to work to put his plan into motion. He went behind his desk and pulled open a drawer, leafing through it. He did not intend to resign, but he needed to make James believe that he was. He stuffed a folder with the resignation papers, which he left blank, and stuffed them in his briefcase. After that he pulled open another drawer, swallowing the lump in his throat as he looked at what lay in there.
A gun.
It sat there unused, still shiny from being displayed in the store. Mycroft reached down and wrapped his fingers around the gun, bringing it out of the drawer. He stared at it in his hands and turned it back and forth as if it were something completely alien to him. He had stashed this gun here for emergencies. This was an emergency.
He placed it in the inner pocket of his coat, hoping that James wouldn't be able to tell that it was there. He only intended to use it if he had to. He did not intend on killing James.
As soon as he had placed the gun in his coat, two of his security guards appeared. They stood erect as statues in the doorway, waiting for Mycroft's command. Taking a deep breath, Mycroft began to unfold his plan to them.
Mycroft stood in the meeting place, the same place he had met with Moriarty what seemed like an eternity ago. He could feel himself become even more anxious the longer the time stretched on. He rolled up the sleeve of his coat to look at his watch, the sun reflecting off the watch's face as he read the pixelated digits. In one more minute, it would be exactly an hour.
Suddenly, Mycroft heard the sound of footsteps clicking on the pavement. He brought his head up to see James Moriarty walking toward him. He seemed to have gotten a bit cockier ever since he had revealed himself again. He wasn't as afraid to be recognized anymore. Mycroft found that a tad strange, especially considering that he was charged with a handful of crimes. It was as if he wasn't afraid of Sherlock, or anyone else for that matter, catching him and turning him in. Mycroft gulped. It was probably because he thought he'd be safe once he acquired his position.
That wasn't going to happen.
"Do you have the papers?" asked James as he stopped a couple inches away from him, his hands tucked in his pocket. "Of course you must. You'd be foolish to show up without them."
Mycroft set his briefcase on a nearby case, clicking it open. He grabbed the file and handed it to him. He had to pretend that the documents inside were what James wanted.
James grabbed the file, looking at its exterior, biting his lip.
"It's all there; all signed. I'm no longer in a position to defy you."
James picked at the edge of the folder with a finger, making Mycroft's heart beat ten times faster. If he saw that the papers weren't signed, he'd have to take immediate action.
"Why do I get the sense that I shouldn't trust you?" asked James, looking at you with hardened eyes.
Mycroft hardened his own gaze, not willing to give anything away.
"Trust me or don't. It makes no difference to me."
James smirked.
"Bold, aren't we?"
"I have nothing to be ashamed of."
James slipped his finger into the folder, making it pop open a bit. Mycroft focused on closing his briefcase to calm down, ignoring the fact that his fingers were becoming sweaty and slipping off the clasps.
"Lets just see about that."
James cracked open the folder, and Mycroft shook. He slipped his hand into his coat while James was looking through the folder, wrapping his hands around the gun and withdrawing it. He held the gun in front of him, pointing it right at his chest.
"You didn't sign these!" James growled, jerking his head up from the folder.
When he saw Mycroft standing there with a gun trained on him, he smirked, slapping the folder shut and throwing it onto the ground.
"Really? You're going to shoot me now?"
Mycroft felt his hand wobble, and brought his other hand up to steady himself.
"You're going to become just like Sherlock, aren't you? Murder someone and get exiled?" James shook his head, tsking. "Only this time, no one will be there to keep it from happening."
Mycroft closed his eyes, counting his heart beats as he tried to steady his nerves. He couldn't let James get under his skin.
"So go ahead. Shoot me. It's all just a circle when you think about it. One of the Holmes was destined to be exiled."
Mycroft felt the gun press back in his hands slightly. He opened his eyes and looked to see that James was standing right in front of him so that the gun was pressed into his chest.
"Shoot me. I dare you."
He felt his finger slip around the trigger. James smirked at his hesitation.
"Your brother has better nerves than you do. He killed Magnussen without a second thought."
Magnussen. When he thought that name, he remembered everything that had transpired. He had watched from the helicopter as Sherlock shot Magnussen in the temple, killing him instantly. He remembered his heart dropping into his stomach at that. Sherlock dropped the gun to his side, holding his hands up as he knelt down. That wasn't his brother. His brother wasn't a killer.
Yet there he was, kneeling in front of the copters as the lights flashed over him, voices crackling over the megaphones to instruct him not to move. He looked at how helpless his brother looked, John standing off to the side in complete shock. He knew from that moment that he had to protect Sherlock. He couldn't watch his little brother rot in a jail. He was determined to do anything for him, just as he claimed killing Magnussen was to protect Mary and John.
Sherlock was not a killer, and neither was he.
He released his hold on the trigger, slowly bringing the gun to rest at his side.
"I'm not a killer," said Mycroft flatly, looking into James's eyes as the smirk once again appeared.
"You could have fooled me," he said, chuckling slightly. "What a shame..."
James dug out a gun of his own, training it on the center of Mycroft's forehead.
"You could have protected yourself. You should have known better. You don't break deals with me."
Mycroft discreetly adverted his gaze to see if the security guards were waiting in the background like he had ordered them. He caught sight of one of them and sighed with relief. They were still there. If this went south fast, he'd be protected.
He hoped.
"Don't fret about your death; don't be scared. I'm merciful. I'll make it quick."
He watched as James wrapped a finger around the trigger, pulling back on it slightly. With his heart pounding fast in his chest, he allowed his eyelids to flutter shut, waiting for whatever was going to happen next.
