I am SO sorry for taking so long to update. I've been very busy, and I'm going to be gone for four days again, and... argh... yeah.
Shout outs:
Grammarosprey: Not sure if I spelled your username right, so sorry if I didn't. Anyway, your insights were very interesting to read :) You were right on a lot of them, but even I don't know exactly what's going to happen. I have a basic outline planned out in my head, but... y'know... it could change... Also, thanks for catching the 'their's' thing. I missed it while editing. I'll fix that as soon as possible.
P.o.V. - Magnussen
He smiled his cold, serpentine smile at the man sitting across from him.
Mycroft Holmes, the most powerful man in the country. Apart from him, of course.
"Are you going to sit there smirking, or are we going to discuss business?"
Mycroft's tone was cold as ice, but sharp and clipped. The man was almost as megalomaniacal as he was, and obviously hated it when he wasn't in control. Magnussen hummed in amusement.
"By all means, Mr. Holmes, discuss away."
"A conversation requires two participants."
"I'm giving you the first move. Be grateful."
Mycroft's expression didn't waver.
Magnussen did this to all of his victims. He let them have the first move. It gave them false hope, usually, and filled them with faux confidence. It didn't seem as if Mycroft was falling for it, though. The man was powerful and intelligent, certainly. He just had a weak point. And Magnussen had found it.
"Well, Mr. Magnussen, in your message you said that you had some information regarding the security of the nation. May I ask what this intelligence is, and what your source is?"
He smiled, cleaning his glasses. "Hmm... no."
The politician seemed appalled. "Pardon?"
"You British people," he hummed, placing the glasses back on his face. "So polite. You go about your daily lives apologizing and holding open doors... To answer your question, no. You may not ask what it is, or what my source is. I will tell you what you need to know, and I sincerely hope that we can reach an ultimatum."
"So you have blackmail against me."
"No, Mr. Holmes, I have the material necessary to do business with you. I am a business man, not a blackmailer."
Mycroft glared. "Pray tell."
P.o.V. - Moriarty
"Got it!" he sang.
The rest of them stared.
"What?" Molly asked.
He rolled his eyes. "Mycroft's mobile. I tracked it. I got his location."
Eurus grabbed the device out of his hand and studied it. Sherlock was looking over her shoulder. He turned to Greg. "You have your licence, yes?"
"Wait, hold on a second. I thought we were dealing with creepy notes from psychos."
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "We are, idiot. You have it?"
"Well, yes, but-"
"'But' what?" Jim asked, staring the unfortunate 11th year down.
Greg shuffled his feet. "But I don't want it revoked... and with you lot in the car I might crash. People could die."
Jim smiled, "Well, we're good then. Let's go."
"Didn't you hear him?" John asked. "People could die!"
"That's because that's what people DO!"
They all jumped, except for Eurus who was taking a pocket knife out of a drawer.
"Good then? Let's go."
Magnussen P.o.V.
Mycroft frowned at the sheets of paper that he'd placed in front of him as if they had somehow disappointed him. He showed no signs of distress or discomfort. "Well, Mr. Magnussen, you've certainly been... thorough."
"Always."
"And I suppose you will share this information if I don't pay a certain sum?"
"That depends, Mr. Holmes."
"On what?"
"You're supposed to be intelligent. Figure it out."
"I don't see what you mean."
"I have both your brother and your sister under my thumb right now, and they don't even know it. Therefore, I have you under my thumb. The information is not for sale, however, for a certain price, I'd be willing to keep it a secret."
For the first time during the meeting, Mycroft showed signs of discomfort.
"Name your price."
Magnussen smiled.
P.o.V. - Moriarty
"GREG! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL- ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL US!?"
"Sorry, John... Moriarty! Right or left!?"
"Left."
"Hang on!"
The car screeched as they made the sharp turn. They'd learned the hard way that some people didn't do well with Greg's driving. John was screaming his head off, and Molly was sheet white and had a death grip on the door handle. Sherlock was sleeping, miraculously, and Eurus was stuck between him and John in the back, looking rather uncomfortable.
"This car has terrible steering. Where'd you say you got it?"
"Hotwired it. It was the one closest to us," Jim responded.
"You stole it?"
"You seriously didn't notice that there aren't any keys?"
"Well, no, I-"
"Right here."
The car turned sharply, throwing Sherlock onto Eurus and making John scream again. He sounded like a girl. Molly began to turn green.
"Your bloody navigational skills suck, Moriarty."
"Better than your driving. Right again."
Greg jerked on the steering wheel. His knuckles were white. "How much further? God, if my dad ever finds out..."
"Three miles. Turn here."
"Which direction!? And how are you so bloody calm?"
"Left.''
They turned again. Sherlock hit the window, still asleep.
"I have experience with crazier drivers than you."
"Who?"
"Me, of course." He grinned and glanced at the map. "Oh. Turn right here."
"Moriarty!"
"Sorry. Oh, wait. No, I'm not."
"Bloody hell."
"Oh, look. Here's the driveway."
"A little warning would be nice!"
The car turned, hitting the mailbox. Greg winced as the car stopped.
Jim grinned. "Well, that was fun. Someone wanna wake up Sherlock?"
Magnussen P.o.V
"I cannot give you that sort of access," Mycroft said. His voice was clipped, tense. He was torn between protecting himself and his family versus the nation.
"Well, that's a shame, because-"
He was interrupted by a crash coming from outside. Then he heard the sound of brakes. Glancing at Mycroft once more, he walked over to the window and looked out. His eyes were greeted with the sight of a broken mailbox, a beat up car, and several teenagers.
Magnussen just stared for a minute, unsure on how to react. He glanced at Mycroft, who was seemingly bemused.
They both, without hesitation, walked out of the house, leaving the papers behind on Magnussen's desk.
P.o.V. - Moriarty
He saw Mycroft and Magnussen walking towards them first.
"Found your brother."
Sherlock said something groggily which was either along the lines of 'five more minutes, mom,' or, 'here's some vital information about this guy that just might save out lives.'
He hoped it wasn't too important.
They all seemed shell-shocked. Molly was still green, John was trying not to hyperventilate, and Eurus was fiddling with the knife in her hands. Maybe it relieved stress? He wasn't sure if he really wanted to know. And Greg... Greg was staring off into the horizon, perhaps thanking any deity out there for sparing his life.
"What is the meaning of this?" Mycroft asked as soon as he reached them.
"The car crashed. Lestrade's a terrible driver," he explained sincerely.
"I see."
It was obvious from his expression that he really didn't see.
The other man- Magnussen, Jim had to assume- seemed to be debating between laughing and calling the police. He did neither, though.
"Won't you all come inside?" Magnussen asked.
Mycroft tensed.
Jim glanced at the others. Sherlock seemed to be conscious and Eurus didn't seem to be murderous, but the others hadn't improved much.
"They're dealing with post-traumatic stress right now," he explained.
Mycroft gave him a look, like, what the hell is going on?
He smiled his 'I'm innocent' smile.
Magnussen coughed. "Come inside when you are ready."
And so they did, 47 minutes later.
A/N: Thoughts? Comments? Anything?
Thanks for reading!
TW999
