Sherlock was frustrating. Jim could be infuriating. But none of the men that came in and out of John's life terrified him in the way that Mycroft Holmes did. The only one who he wasn't sleeping with and the one he truly believed would have him killed without a second thought. So when the black car pulled to a stop beside him, John uttered some curses under his breath and stepped inside.
To be honest, he had been expecting this for some time. There was nothing about their lives that Mycroft did not know and so after the incident at the fair, John knew that there would be a visit shortly. Since becoming the lover of both the world's only consulting detective and the world's only consulting criminal, John knew that his brother would want a word with him. He sighed heavily as the car pulled away, Anthea pointedly ignoring him once more, as had become their custom. John only hoped that this meeting would take place somewhere more comfortable than a car park or abandoned warehouse. The covert atmosphere Mycroft liked grew old very quickly.
He gave a soft sigh of relief when he was dropped on what appeared to be Mycroft's own home. There weren't a lot of family suppers in the Holmes family so John had never seen this place for himself. He knocked on the door, slightly surprised when Mycroft himself opened the door, dressed in something other than a flawless suit. The soft jumper looked remarkably foreign on him but John had to admit that it suited him. "Please, come in, Dr. Watson." The home was as well-appointed as John would have imagined and he found himself led down a long hallway to a comfortable study. "Brandy?" Mycroft offered, pouring a glass for himself.
John nodded and accepted the second glass with a soft, "Ta." He took the seat opposite Mycroft, wondering if this was more serious than he had originally imagined. Never had Mycroft be so considerate and kind to him. It was more unnerving than anything John had ever suffered at his hands. "Am I to assume that I am here because of the incident at the fair last week?" He finally asked when the silence dragged on an unpleasant stretch.
"I am aware of what happened," Mycroft started, looking at his glass instead of at John. "You handled it admirably. It could have been much worse had it not been for your quick thinking. But it made me realize it was time we sat and discussed the situation you have found yourself in. I have been remiss in not contacting you sooner, however, you must understand that no one has ever stuck around after meeting Jim and Sherlock has not been known to keep people close either. I did not think we would get to this point but now that we are here, I offer my sincere apologies that this meeting has been delayed for so long."
John choked on his drink, having never heard Mycroft apologize to anyone besides Mrs. Hudson. This was a new experience and he wasn't sure how to process any of it just yet. "I think by now you can see I will not be scared off. And I would appreciate knowing anything you can tell me about this situation. I admit that my medical knowledge on this is limited. I did one rotation in psychiatry but it was ages ago and I have had no chance to put it into use since." He had done some research once he figured out what condition Sherlock was living with but first-hand knowledge would be much more useful.
Mycroft took a moment, always careful about how much information he gave, regardless of the subject. "It was first noticed when he was at school. He was losing large amounts of time, not showing up to classes that he had been enjoying. They would find him wandering the grounds, causing trouble and not answering to his name, insisting his name to be Jim Moriarty. The Irish accent became our first clue that something had changed. He would only speak like that when asking to be called Jim. His diction, posture, mannerisms, everything else would change as well. It was like seeing another person in my brother's body. Mummy and Father pulled him out of school, finding the best doctor's possible. He spent a year in and out of facilities, only to be told that there was nothing to be done. Jim was as much a part of him as Sherlock, we were stuck with him.
"It took only a few episodes before we realized that there was more to worry about than just the fact that Sherlock was losing parts of his life to Jim. Jim was evil, more so than anyone I had ever encountered. We had been close to telling Sherlock about his condition, telling him about the other personality but when I learned just how much trouble Jim was going to be, our parents and I decided it would be best to keep it from him. Never in my life did I consider Jim would become his advisory."
John had remained silent, taking in all the new information with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. It was obvious the Holmes' had kept this information from Sherlock, there was no way he would have simply forgotten something as important that. Truly, nothing John had just learned was that surprising. Other than that last part of Mycroft's comments. Something happened that Mycroft had not anticipated. "You? You didn't realize that this could happen?" He asked incredulously.
"Believe it or not, Dr. Watson, I am indeed fallible. And I once had a blind spot when it came to my brother. He may be below me in terms of intelligence but he is still the closest thing I have to an equal that I have found. To think that there could possibly be an issue with him did not cross my mind at first." Mycroft sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. "But I think Sherlock knew, deep down. I think it is why he turned to the drugs. I have often asked myself if we could have protected him from that by telling him the truth but there is no way to know. And now I wonder how much damage we would do if we were to admit that we have known this for nearly twenty years."
"Nearly twenty…." John trailed off, staring at Mycroft once more. "Oh my god, Carl Powers. That was Sherlock. Sherlock killed Carl Powers, left the shoes in 221C after all those years, and…" John knew that Sherlock, as Jim, had to have killed people before John came into his life but knowing it without a doubt was something more than he was really prepared to deal with.
Mycroft shook his head, "Not Sherlock. Jim did. You of all people should understand that while they share the same body, they are not the same person."
The condescending tone made John bristle and he shifted forward in his chair, his voice taking on an icy tone. "But if you arrest one, they will both spend their lives in jail. So you've been covering up his crimes all this time so you don't have to tell him what is happening. And yet have the audacity to question me? You are covering your own arse, Mycroft, not thinking about your brother. I think we are done here." He stood to leave, grabbing his coat and storming to the door.
It wasn't until his hand was on the doorknob that Mycroft spoke again, his words soft. "Dr. Watson, I care about my brother. If I did not, I would not have agonized over this for so long. But, yes, you are right. A lot of my decisions have been to save face. Both Sherlock and Moriarty have made names for themselves in the world. If the world were to discover they were the same person, it would ruin Sherlock forever. It would reflect badly on myself, as well as the rest of the family."
"Bollocks on you, the family, and the world," John declared as he rounded on Mycroft but did not move away from the door. "There is only one person in the world that I care about and to hell with everyone else." With that, he stormed from the room, the door slamming shut with a satisfying bang.
The ride home found John thinking over his decision carefully. There was always the chance that Sherlock wouldn't believe him. There was the chance that the knowledge would bring Jim to the forefront and the man would kill him where he stood. While John was not a Holmes, he was a soldier and knew well how to develop a battle plan when going into a dangerous situation.
With all of that in mind, he breathed a minuscule sigh of relief when he saw Sherlock sitting at the kitchen table and heard the telltale deductions. "I see you've been to see Mycroft. Nice of him to take you to his home instead of a warehouse this time." He glanced up and one look at John's face had him sighing. "Oh, what did he tell you this time? Some other dull case, I suppose."
Pursing his lips, John shook his head. "Not dull. The most fascinating case I've ever had a privilege of encountering." Rolling his shoulders back, John made his decision. "Sherlock, I think we need to talk."