Well, this story is finally developing.
Ch 22 In which our hero Sherlock gives instructions to his older brother.
Mycroft wasn't thrilled with Sherlock's plan.
"What if he asks something out of bounds," Mycroft straightened his tie. "I don't feel comfortable with revealing your secrets to a psychopathic maniac."
"The only thing you will reveal," Sherlock said impatiently, "is what you think of me. He knows the important stuff anyway."
"What is of importance that he knows?" Mycroft lifted his nose up offended.
"He knows who to target when the time comes," Sherlock pressed the tips of his fingers together trying to see all possible angles.
"And who that might be?" there was a smirk on the end of that question. "Surely, not me."
"No, you'll discredit yourself by betraying me," Sherlock smiled at him. "I expect that won't be a hardship for you. Just don't try to lie, he'll see right through you just like I do."
"So, John, and who else?" Mycroft tapped his umbrella on the floor.
"Mr Hudson and I think Lestrade if nothing else to come to the number of three. People do love that number for some reason," Sherlock shook it off with disdain.
He made a habit never to use it.
"I see," Mycroft frowned.
"What?" Sherlock was alarmed. "What did I miss?"
"Oh, nothing," Mycroft shrugged it off. "It just never occurs to you that I might have some secrets of my own, the kind I wouldn't like to share with a mad man."
"What secrets you could possibly have?" Sherlock dismissed it. "Your life is your work and that is all tied up with secrets, codes and networks that divide information into unusable babble. He finds all of that dull, he knows it all because he's the one who created the chaos from below. No, all he wants to have is an intimate knowledge of me so he can destroy me from within."
Mycroft paused looking down to the tip of his umbrella. That was the thing he did when he sorted his inner emotion to prevent them from spilling out into the world.
"What if he succeeds? What if he destroys you?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Sherlock dismissed it. "I have no real sentiment to be fearful before. My mind is clear while he is clouded with passion, the passion to submit me to a squirming mess. That can't be done. It's been tried before, you and I know that it is impossible."
Mycroft lifted his eyebrows not agreeing with him but Sherlock shook his head.
"You never had much faith in me," he said sneering at him.
"On the contrary," Mycroft smiled that thin smile of his. "I had too much faith in you. If I wasn't the one to make the decision you would end up behind a glass never to see the light of day."
With that, he pranced of swinging his umbrella. 'Behind a glass,' Sherlock snorted. Mycroft was always the one for the drama.
Now that was set he just needs to get a nice case, the one away from London, where he could study John in peace and decide on which angle to play this game.
It seems that a few years of absence is a bit much. I've lost my cheerleaders.
But no matter, let us end this and start the new one. It took me a while to recover from the 4th season and see what gifts it left behind its ruin.