A/N Again, all of these characters belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the genius that he was.
A/N It seems that there are those of you who doubt the awesomeness of Mycroft Holmes. For those of you who don't see how Mycroft could be that important, I have dug up some quotes to enlighten you.
(Holmes speaking to Watson regarding Mycroft) "You are right in thinking that he is under the British governement. You would also be right in a sense if you said that occasionally he is the British government... Mycroft draws four hundred and fifty pounds a year, has no ambitions of any kind, will receive neither honour nor title, but remains the most indispensible man in the country... All other men are specialists, but his specialism is omniscience."
In a sense, Mycroft can take facts from very different goverment divisions, "focus them all, and say offhand how each factor would affect the other." Mycroft was a very important man, and it is very possible that he would retain the knowledge that I have given him.
All of these quotes come from "The Adventure of the Bruce-Partington Plans," in which top-secret government plans are stolen. Mycroft is the one who brings the case to Holmes' doorstep, literally.
Holmes had closed his eyes and flinched at the sound, fully expecting the impact of a bullet. When he felt no pain, he slowly opened his eyes to find that Moriarty's weapon was not the one that had fired.
I stood beside Holmes, smoking revolver in hand. There was no thought involved in my reaction; it was pure instinct. Moriarty was threatening to destroy everything that I held dear and he was going to come out of it scot-free. In a split-second, I had pulled the revolver from my left pocket and shot Moriarty in the chest.
His pistol fell to the floor as he staggered back into the desk. With one hand, he supported himself on the desk, and with the other, he tentatively reached up towards the wound. As he did so, blood quickly began to saturate his shirt. His face paled and his eyes were drained of their color. He looked at his chest, then up at me. His breathing became very rapid and his voice was shaky. "Good shot Dr. Watson, good shot indeed." He then slid down the desk, still bleeding heavily. By the time he reached the floor, he had closed his eyes and breathed his final breath. As I approached Moriarty's body to verify his death, a movement caught the corner of my eye. I quickly turned, but I was too late. Lennox had escaped using the door through which he had entered. I dashed through the door after him, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Upon returning to the room, I found Holmes, his left arm not of much use, trying to untie Mycroft. I gently pulled him aside, placed the revolver on the desk, and proceeded to untie Mycroft.
When Mycroft was finally free, the first thing he did was envelope Holmes in a warm embrace. Holmes winced when Mycroft grazed his wound, but he did his best to return the gesture. The two stood there for several minutes, until Holmes pulled away and maneuvered his way towards me. Before I knew what was happening, Holmes reached around me with his right arm and pulled me into a warm embrace. "Thank you, Watson. You saved my life, and Mycroft's, as well. We are forever indebted to you." I returned the embrace, tears welling up in my eyes.
After some time had passed, Holmes pulled away. I was not surprised to see that there were tears in his eyes, as well. This was not the first time that his life had been threatened, but this was the first time that he had been utterly helpless.
A thick silence settled in over the room, and I took the moment to make sure that Moriarty was indeed dead. I bent down next to his body and checked for a pulse. When I could not find one, I announced that he was dead.
"He's finally gone."
"Yes, Watson, he is. Let us hope that there is never another like him." Holmes' voice was quiet, almost out of reverence for the only man who had bested him more than once.
The silence settled in once more as we all reflected on the events of the past week.
After a number of minutes passed, I broke the silence. "Mycroft, are you well enough to walk?"
"I do believe so, Dr. Watson."
"Then we had best be going. You need medical attention, as does Holmes. Although I am able to care for your injuries here, I feel it would be better if we were able to get you to a clinic or at least to some place cleaner than this. We should head back to Baker Street at the very least."
"Then Baker Street it is," Mycroft replied. Holmes nodded his approval, and the three of us slowly made our way out of the warehouse.
The night was still dark, but it was longer warm. The air had become cool and crisp, penetrating to the very core with every breath. It was a refreshing alternative to the oppressive atmosphere we had just left.
After a bit of searching, we found a cab. Holmes entered first, then Mycroft, then myself. I sat closest to the cabdriver, so I instructed him to head to Baker Street. When I returned my focus to my companions, I heard Holmes asking his brother how this surreal turn of events had come to pass. The Holmes brothers' thirst for answers and information overshadowed the pain of their injuries and by the time we had reached Baker Street, they had pieced the puzzle together in its entirety.
A/N I have plans for an epilogue. Let me know what you think.