TheDarkestShinobi: A day late. Oh well. Enjoy and review!

It's been a weeks since he's been summoned to take care of a wound, the stitching the week before having been his last. He was starting to get restless and he was sure that was part of the plan. Still, he trains and sleeps and can't help but notice his body hardening.

John awakens at the sound of the door opening. He jumps out of bed and starts walking towards the sound in less than a second. He only lets himself relax when he realizes its Moriarty walking towards him. He leaves that revelation alone for the moment because Moriarty was never going to be someone that should make him relax.

Jim donned his usual attire, a full suit no doubt specifically tailored and Westwood. He's holding a suit on a hanger in his hand John takes it from him with confusion etched into his face. The suit looks expensive; now he didn't think there was such a thing as too much for a man like that but he didn't understand what he could have done to warrant such an expense.

"Westwood." Moriarty says in a sing song voice as he watches John take in the suit.

"For today?" John asks even as his mind tells him, obviously, but did Moriarty really have to buy him a suit?

"You have to look your best for the palace." Is all Moriarty would give as an answer and John takes an inhale as if to say something before letting it out.

"Right." He finally says with a nod. He looks away and Moriarty watches him rationalize the suit before shaking his head and walking away.

…

John steps out of the car before Moriarty does and pats down the jacket of his suit as the other steps out. Moriarty smiles up as he takes the building in and then smirks and jerks his head to the left.

"Isn't Mycroft going to send someone to get us?" John asks as he starts walking behind the mastermind.

"Yes," he answers with a smile, "but this is more fun." John continues to follow with a shake of his head. Crazy murdering psychopathic git. John was the wrong type of doctor for this.

Mycroft seemed more annoyed than anything else when he turned on the lights to see Moriarty already sitting in a chair with John standing off to his right. "They're here." He says aloud, probably for the benefit of the person on the other side of the earpiece.

"John." Mycroft acknowledges with a nod and a small tight smile.

"Mycroft," he responds in kind.

"Moriarty." Jim adds with a smile. John recognizes this Jim, this public face. There was no screaming, no childishness, just a hint of sass and a world of control. "Now that that's over with I've come to talk to you about Detective inspector Lestrade." Mycroft lets out a breath and John gets to see Mycroft in a different light now; this was the Mycroft without control of anything, submissive, compliant.

"What of him?" he asks as he subtly looks John up and down. It may have been petty, but John doesn't appreciate the concern, not now. Mycroft was the one who fed him to the beast. Mycroft also take the time to realize why John was here, Moriarty wants to show him off, like a trophy.

"He's starting to get a little too curious, tell him to stop looking for Watson." The smile on Moriarty's face turned sinister. "And you should pay your brother a visit, tell him to stop too." This time Mycroft's lips tighten and John lets out a deep breath. "Oh, yes." He sounds like he had just discovered something, but unlike when he played with Sherlock, there's just one tone this time, the annoyed businessman. "One look at you and he'll know how you lied to him." Moriarty grins. He'll know that you took the one thing Sherlock has ever wanted and gave it to me. Mycroft knows this too, despite his best efforts; Moriarty reads it on his face. He gives them both a diplomatic smile as he closes his eyes for a second longer than it takes to blink.

"Come Doctor," Jim calls as he stands. "I'm done here."

John turns and follows, after all, he's now Moriarty's pet.

…

"I have recently become aware that you are trying to look further into John Watson's suicide." Lestrade nods with a hand on the back of his head. Mycroft leans on his umbrella in the office as he watches the DI come up with a good reason.

"Sherlock is sure John's alive." Mycroft raises the umbrella to look at the bottom before setting it back down.

"And you have a body, yes?" He counters in a smooth controlled voice. Lestrade sighs with another nod.

"It seems to match." He admits to the Holmes.

"So it would seem reasonable to assume you will stop wasting department resources on searching for a dead man?" Lestrade feels the anger coil inside of him.

"but-" he starts before Mycroft interrupts.

"Right?" he insists in a louder voice and Lestrade knows he isn't asking.

"Right." Lestrade cedes. Mycroft nods and turns away from the man before strolling out of the building and into a waiting black car.

He has one more stop today.

…

Sherlock stares at his phone. Lestrade thinks it's a dead end and he doesn't have time to waste. Lestrade is trying to tell him something and he needs to figure it out. He tilts his head before standing to retrieve his violin. He hears the door open and the footsteps on the steps before he can begin to play

"Mycroft." It's as much of a greeting as he is going to get. He watches his brother carefully once he spots the signs of nervousness and guilt. He rises from the couch with a leap. "Mycroft" this time it is a demand. "This is something big, isn't it?" It's not really a question. The two Holmes brothers are now face to face. Mycroft swallows and steels himself as he stares into Sherlock's eyes.

"John Watson is no longer any concern of yours." Mycroft's voice is level as it delivers the blow. Sherlock was expecting something big and hurtful and yet he still isn't prepared.

"What?" He takes half a step back and his eyes jump across the man's face, "No." his face tilts as he lets his anger take him. "You?"

"From now on," his brother continues, keeping an impassive face, trying not to break as he breaks his brother "you will stay out of this."

"Oh." His voice is a low growl that Mycroft has never heard before "That's what this is."

"Now if yo-" Mycroft voice cuts off his with his thoughts as he feels his brother's fist connecting with his cheek and tastes blood in his mouth. He raises a hand to grab the cheek but the second punch knocks him to the ground. Sherlock's eyes are wild and he draws his leg back to kick Mycroft. Mycroft has no doubt Sherlock would not stop unless someone stopped him and is ever grateful for the two men that pull Sherlock away from him. Sherlock kicks and screams as they drag him away and Mycroft stands after another few seconds.

"Mycroft!" He yells in rage as he tugs his arms forward trying to overcome the two men and get back to his brother. "AAUGH" He yells out tugging harder.

"What have you done to John?" He screams again as the third stabs him with a syringe. He wants to yell more, to hit things, he wants-he wants. No, he can feel the darkness start to take him. He slumps against them as the drug takes effect and the guards set him down on the floor as Mycroft lifts a handkerchief to his lips.

"Far too much I'm afraid." He nods to the men and they leave. Mycroft takes a last look at his brother, crumbled on the floor and defeated and knew he disserved all of Sherlock's hate, now and forever. "and yet it seems I'm not quite done." He sighs out, feeling defeated himself.

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