For The Love Of A Genius

by ObscureShadow

Ten years after Sherlock met John, things seem to have fallen into a normal routine. That is until he starts getting texts signed -JM. Quickly, everything goes downhill and Sherlock is forced to build a relationship with his godforsaken brother Mycroft in order to save his blogger and others. Can they take down the underground network of criminals before someone dies?

2. Caring is not an Advantage

Mycroft stood from his computer desk where he had been observing Sherlock in his flat performing an experiment with clay figurines. He had just watched as Sherlock took a torch to one that held a striking resemblance to Mycroft, then smirk up at the camera. Mycroft picked up his phone and sent his dastardly brother a text.

You melted me!?
-MH

Haha… You deserve it Mycroft.
-SH

I could have the entire British government at your house in 10 seconds brother.
-MH

Mycroft began pacing his office in agitation, waiting for Sherlock's reply.

Certainly not for a drugs bust. Lestrade hit me with that yesterday. And certainly not because I'm experimenting on clay. Yawn, you're a bore.
-SH

Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock. Calling me a bore is like telling Anderson he's smart. Be careful with your choice of words or I may just have to tell him as much.
-MH

That was a step too far. How dare you compare yourself to Anderson? He's more entertaining than you.
-SH

Mycroft started to squeeze his phone in frustration. His brother was such a prat sometimes.

Fun is not one of the things I try to be dear brother. Being fun is for children. Not fitting for a sophisticated being such as myself.
-MH

What's the point of growing up if you can't be childish when you want?
-SH

I do not want to be childish.
-MH

Why?
-SH

You are the childish one. Someone has to be "mother" and I am the only one mentally capable.
-MH

He could see Sherlock now, and not even with his camera. Sherlock's face would be screwed up with his tongue out as he mimicked the older brother's text.

And that's a childhood in a nutshell.
-SH

Mycroft rolled his eyes at his phone and looked over at the computer screen with a sad little frown on his face. He wished he'd stop bringing that up. As he was watching, Sherlock lit the little blob of clay on fire again. Mycroft let out an irritated groan.

Really Sherlock?
-MH

What?
-SH

You have GOT to be kidding me… why?
-MH

No. I don't kid. I was just curious if relighting it would produce a gas.
-SH

Why do I even ask?
-MH

Because, like all humans, curiosity wins over us all. Some more than others. Your curiosity appears to be attached to me.
-SH

God, Sherlock could be such a prick. Mycroft was starting to lose his cool. He was arguing like a child. "Come on Mycroft. Be the bigger person. Don't let your little brother get to you." But Sherlock's next text threw him off guard.

I've been getting texts from Moriarty.
-SH

And?
-MH

Moriarty was supposed to be in prison. How could he be texting Sherlock?

I'll send them to you. Give me a moment. The other day, Lestrade came by and told me that someone had broken into Pentonville Prison. Later I found out that it was Jim. He had turned himself in, and then I got this text:

{Text forwarded}

'Roses are Red,
Violets are Blue,
I'm locked up in Pentonville
And thinking of you.
-JM.'

And, I'm not on a case, so I don't understand, but he sent this one.

{Text forwarded}

'Bodies are pale,
As white as the snow.
Boring old Sherlock;
You're getting slow.
-JM'

-SH

Ah...do you want me to lock him in solitary confinement?
-MH

You did that before. What good did it do? You got me killed.
-SH

"Killed". You're obviously still here. As for the being slow...well...
-MH

What are you getting at?
-SH

Mycroft started typing but deleted most of the message.

I shouldn't say anything. It's confidential business.
-MH

Anything pertaining to me is not confidential.
-SH

There's a case. Just no one's told you.
-MH

Why would no one tell me?
-SH

Mycroft let out a sigh. "Because you're a showoff and a prat."

Because Sherlock, you get to be kind of an asshole when on a case.
-MH

I'm fucking Sherlock Holmes, I can be what I want, pirate included!
-SH

"My point proven dear brother."

No one likes being outshone Sherlock.
-MH

Is that what the umbrella is for?
-SH

My umbrella serves the same purpose as your upturned collar!
-MH

You carry around those umbrellas to make you look important.
-SH

I am important.
-MH

To whom?
-SH

All of Britain.
-MH

They don't even know your name. They just know you as the man who ruins the roads, causes wars, and steals tax money. You're not loved.
-SH

There's a reason for everything I do. Some people may not like it, but one day, they will thank me for it.
-MH

Yeah, because we like to thank you for using our money to build your house, and get you fancy cars, which you don't use, by the way...There's really no need for you.
-SH

"I do too use my cars!" Mycroft yelled into the house before realizing Sherlock wasn't there.

If the government didn't look the part, which I do, nobody would respect the British government and then where would we be?
-MH

I think we'd be in America, which in this case, doesn't seem like a horrible option.
-SH

Nothing good comes from America. Tasteless food, boring sports, and ridiculous taxes. Britain is where we are and where we'll stay
-MH

Well I guess there's the American president.
-SH

Every American president has very well destroyed their country with their attitude. I am at least careful with my power.
-MH

I don't think 'careful' is the right word.
-SH

I'm actually slightly surprised you haven't already run off to find this case everyone's hiding from you.
-MH

It took Sherlock a few minutes to respond. Mycroft watched him pacing his tiny, cramped kitchen, obviously trying to figure out something. Finally he picked his phone from the table and responded.

Does it have to do with Jim?
-SH

Obviously. He sent you the text about it
-MH

What am I getting slow at though?
-SH

The case?
-MH

What about it though?
-SH

Excuse me, I have some business to attend to. Good day Sherlock.
-MH

Mycroft placed his phone on the desk beside him and set to work on some overdue paperwork. It went off a few times, but he didn't respond. Sherlock would figure it out. His brother was smart sometimes. However, why would Moriarty lock himself up then send messages? To get a reaction from Sherlock. Get him involved in a series of serial murders so the real plan could get underway. But they wouldn't let that happen. Let the detective ruminate on Moriarty until the professionals could get the killer in custody.

Mycroft!
-SH

Tell me! What am I slow at?
-SH

Fine. Laters!
-SH

Hours passed and Mycroft found his eye lids drooping. Boring paperwork for miles. Another document to look over and sign. Mycroft sighed and pushed his chair back from the desk, head falling back, with arms crossed over his forehead. He sat, breathing for a moment before abruptly sitting up and rolling back to check the security cameras. Sherlock might be up to something. He checked the flat and found a piece of paper covering the camera. 'Brother Dear, heading to Pentonville to visit Jim. Don't wait up.'

"Oh good Lord, what are you getting yourself into Sherlock?" Mycroft's phone beeps and he hurriedly grabs for it.

John updated his blog. Since you didn't ask.
-SH

Mycroft pulls up Watson's blog and begins to read.

'There was a sudden jolt of vibration from Sherlock's shirt pocket. He'd been here twice in the past few days- Sherlock would read the text, the colour would drain from his face and we'd go visit Jim Moriarty at Pentonville prison.

This time was different. Sherlock dragged me off to Pentonville first. He was looking for a case, one which seemed to be being withheld from the practiced detective by his brother. We arrived at the prison and were waiting for word from the DI when the text came in. This time, Sherlock read the text, and his face flushed, but instead of white, it was red with fury. He slammed his phone down on the table and threw open the interrogation room door, spitting the word 'impossible'. He charged down the prison corridor, half-knocking a bewildered Lestrade off his feet and carelessly kicking over a wooden chair. I maneuvered myself through the wave of destruction that was filling the prison, until I caught Sherlock clubbing the large button that released cell 13A.

'Ah Sherlock, this is a pleasant surprise-'

'How are you doing it?!' Sherlock had Moriarty up against the wall of his cell by his throat, gasping for air.

'I- I don't know what you're talking about-' he began to giggle but collapsed into a fit of coughing instead.

'This is your doing, I KNOW it. TELL ME HOW.'

'I've been in prison, I haven't-' Sherlock punched him viciously in the jaw, causing him to bite his tongue. Blood began to drip slowly from the corners of his mouth and shone on his teeth when he grinned.

'Sherlock, you need to stop!' A lump formed in my throat as I watched the horror unfold. Sherlock screamed 'TELL ME' and struck Moriarty two or three more times. His entire face was swelling up and had taken on a multitude of colours, reds and blacks and blues. Lestrade poked his head round the door and swore in disbelief, calling behind him for security backup.

I stepped forward, 'Sherlock please listen to me, you can get help for this, but you need to stop hurting him.' Lestrade called me back. He placed the palm of his hand on Sherlock's shoulder and Moriarty was released, sliding to the ground in a shuddering pile of bruised flesh and blood. Sherlock turned slowly to face me, and I breathed out deeply. The small flecks of blood on Sherlock's delicate features made him seem paler than usual. His pupils were dilated, and his eyes were bloodshot- he looked terrifying. The veins in his neck and forehead were visible and pulsing, and his knuckles were raw and shaking. I reached out to comfort him but was grabbed by Lestrade and Donovan and pulled away. Before he could open his mouth to protest, Sherlock was handcuffed and led to a cell.

Sherlock hadn't even tried to resist arrest- he seemed to have no recollection of what had happened mere seconds before and was likely desperately searching for me to tell him what was wrong. I was led from Jim's cell to a cozy room. Inside, I fell to my knees in despair and confusion. Once more, it seemed I was going to lose my best friend. He was confused, and broken, and lost, and there was nothing I could do to help him. I couldn't help but cry into my arm, refusing any form of comfort Lestrade and other members of the team offered me. From outside my room, I could see Moriarty being led to the medical office, a wide grin on his broken face.'

Mycroft stopped reading there. Something was wrong with his brother. He'd never acted this recklessly. Never been this broken up over a case. There must have been something John had missed. What had the text said?

'I of course, paid for the damages, and the fee to release Sherlock and sat back to wait. I didn't have to wait long. Lestrade reentered the room, guiding Sherlock. His eyes were blank and unseeing, until they fall upon me. I stand from my position and take the taller man from the DI. 'Sherlock. What the hell was that?'

'Later John. Let's head back to the flat.'

We arrived back at the flat, hardly exchanging a word the whole ride there. The moment we got in, Sherlock headed immediately to the sofa, falling upon it, and pulling up his sleeve to apply several nicotine patches. 'John, quit thinking so hard, you're making my head hurt' He turned to face the back of the sofa and hasn't moved the entire time I've been writing.'

Mycroft sighed. At least his brother was home. He looked at the camera but found the paper to still be in the way.

Sherlock, are you feeling alright?
-MH

I'm feeling fine. Lestrade thinks I'm off my rocker because of the emotional explosion today. John did have to bail me out though.
-SH

What happened? In your words please.
-MH

Got the text, got mad. Used…physical force on Jim, and then got arrested. All in a day's work.
-SH

What did the text say?
-MH

It said-

{Text forwarded}

Sherlock you're here.
Asking me for a clue?
If I threatened John Watson
What then would you do?
-JM

-SH

Mycroft pushed his hand through his receding hair line. It was starting to make sense as to why Sherlock had beat the shit out of Jim. John's life was on the line. Sherlock had been known to jump off buildings and risk blowing up to protect the army doctor. Why not attack a psychopath in the process?

I'll have John put under government protection. You don't need to beat up a prisoner to protect him. But I'm not doing it as a favor. Strictly a professional precaution.
-MH

It might be best. I guess losing him until this blows over is better than losing him altogether. I just… he's my closest confidant. I need his input.
-SH

You might be allowed to see him whilst undercover, but I'll bet Moriarty is somehow watching your every move.
-MH

I don't know how. He's in prison. Without a phone on him.
-SH

Mycroft stood and began pacing the office. How was he doing it? How could an imprisoned man with no means of communicating be sending messages, and with information only he could know? Perhaps he had associates. No one suspicious had moved into Baker Street recently, but perhaps the neighbors were recruited because of their proximity.

Have you considered tiny cameras or a rat? Maybe one of your neighbors has something rigged up.
-MH

Cameras, obviously. I've checked every inch of this flat. There aren't bugs in the flat or on the street. The only camera is the one you're forcing me to keep, and I've covered it. All the traffic cameras are turned away from the flat. I haven't found any evidence of spying.
-SH

Perhaps someone you thought you could trust giving info to? One of your homeless network?
-MH

I trust no one but John. And even he I have a hard time giving information to. You ought to know this.
-SH

Do you often speak in public?
-MH

In public how?
-SH

As in, do you talk about other things while on the streets? Things that don't pertain to a case?
-MH

Not really. The only time I go out is when I'm on a case. John does the shopping, and everything like that. I prefer to stay home.
-SH

Maybe he was being followed? Or bugged?
-MH

John, bugged?
-SH

"Yes, Sherlock. Bugged. John Watson would be dumb enough to get caught up talking to a lady and have a listening device slipped into his pocket." Mycroft breathed in deeply and let it out, blowing the air upward in exasperation. One might think the doctor would have gained some common sense after years associating with a Holmes, but he was still… John.

It's a possibility. I'll go ahead and watch the security cameras around his favorite cafes. Come by the mansion if you wish, but if I were you, I'd stay with John until his escort arrives.
-MH

I won't let him out of my sight… the moment he gets back.
-SH

Mycroft laughs at this. Of course John went out at the most inopportune time. Sherlock probably only just noticed before he sent the text.

If he comes back. Contact him immediately. I'm going to headquarters. It's about time I left my house anyways. I'll get in contact with you if anything comes up. If you see Lestrade, send him my way, would you?
-MH

Sure, yeah.
-SH

We will stop him, Sherlock. Even if I die in the process.
-MH

That'll be the day. I didn't think you cared?
-SH

'Of course I care'.

I don't partake in sentimental feelings; however, I know you care about John.
-MH

John, I knew you'd look after. But it never seemed you cared much for me. Even as children, you pushed me away.
-SH

'I did that to protect you. I didn't want to get hurt and take it out on you anymore'.

I was 7 years older than you, and Father was pushing me to go to school. I had to focus on that. Not taking care of my kid brother.
-MH

Audio from the flat came through the computer. Sherlock. "School couldn't have been that hard for you! Perfect Mycroft!' 'Sherlock, why can't you be more like Mycroft?' 'Sherlock, your brother got an A in this class, why are you failing?' 'Oh, I remember Mycroft. I expect great things from you, Sherlock Holmes.' Every girl at your beck and call. All the money you could want. Teachers that liked you. No bullies, no problems, not a care in the world for your brother. How could life have been hard for you?" Mycroft's heart twinged at his brother's words. He didn't know. And in contrast, Sherlock didn't know what he had been through. 'For the best'. He'd done well in school because he was afraid. Of dad, of failing, disappointing everyone. Wanting to impress but was unable to.

Lestrade says he's on his way.
-SH

I better get going then. Get in contact with John. Oh and Sherlock… I… Good luck.
-MH

Thank you.
-SH

There was the sound of a closing door from the computer. John must be back.

John's back.
-SH

Check his pockets!
-MH

Song: Oh no! - Marina and the Diamonds