John vaguely wondered where exactly Richard was sending him to, but he had a pretty good idea when he finally arrived. The man who buzzed him in sent him to the elevator and told him just to ride to the top. Penthouse suite. In the most expensive building of flats in London. Richard was meeting John at Jim Moriarty's old flat.

John thought this was possibly why he didn't have a heart attack upon opening the door and seeing Jim Moriarty fussing with the lapel of the grey suit he'd worn for his trial. "I'm not sure about this one."

"You look fine," the man on the sofa said. John recognized him instantly, though they'd both been soldiers in Afghanistan at the time, and John had only spoken to the man for a minute.

"Colonel Moran," John said, shutting the door behind him.

"Captain Watson," Moran said, barely looking at John at all. He reclined back on the sofa, before taking a deep drag on his cigarette.

"Did my brother ever let you smoke in here?" Richard asked, clearly agitated as he fiddled with his suit.

"He smoked, I didn't," Moran said, glancing over at John. "You had your nutcase, I had mine," he said simply. Really, John didn't need much more explanation than that. John doubted Colonel Moran had anything like the relationship John had with Sherlock. Knowing Moran's near legendary skills with a gun, John could guess very easily what Moran did for Moriarty.

"Then why are you bothering now?" Richard asked, clearly annoyed. He shot Moran a glare and Moran put his cigarette out.

"It's either take up a new habit or go back to drinking," Sebastian said.

"Addicts," Richard muttered, rolling his eyes. He grabbed a comb from the coffee table where a bunch of other products sat and started to brush his hair, assuring that it was probably slicked back, Moriarty fashion. "Why would you ever allow yourself to lose control to something outside of yourself? In your case, one cigarette could get you caught."

"I don't smoke," Sebastian said. "Besides, it's not like you chose to be addicted to something, you just are."

"Like having herpes," Richard said. "Just because you can't help it, doesn't mean you should have done whatever you did to get it."

"I don't know if it's Moriarty's suits or what, but you're really starting to sound like him."

"It's called getting unto the role. Does this look right?" Richard asked, spinning around so both John and Moran could see him.

"Yes," John and Moran said at the same time. Besides the fact that Richard couldn't have looked more like his brother physically, Richard in a suit looked every bit like Jim Moriarty. Richard's agitation probably helped that.

"You're both idiots," Richard declared with a disgusted snort and turned back to the mirror. He ripped off the suit jacket and tossed it at Moran, who caught it easily. Richard removed his tie, starting to retie it.

"So, you're planning to walk into The Diogenes' as your brother?" John asked.

"Something like that," Richard said.

"You know, isn't he perfectly good to go with you?" John asked, nodding at Moran. Richard's eyes flicked up to look at John in the mirror.

"Sebastian," Richard said.

"Richard feels that if I tell him one more time that he should take over for Jim that he might actually resort to violence for the first time in his life, and he doesn't want to ruin his manicure," Moran said. John glanced at Richard, who was glaring into the mirror.

"I'm an actor, not a consultant, for anything," Richard said.

"Then act like a consultant," Moran said, cross his arms and propping his feet up on the coffee table.

"I know Jim would never let you put your feet on the furniture," Richard said and Moran instantly put his feet down, sitting up straighter.

"Richard, the tie is fine!" Moran snapped. Richard had started to retie it for the third time. "Look, why don't I just come with you? If you need a guard, well, that's been my job for a while now."

"For Jim," Richard said, scrunching his nose. He continued to fidget with his tie. "Besides, do you want to be arrested? They get one whiff of what you did for Jim and they'll drag you off to where ever they were holding him for all those months."

"I'll be fine," Sebastian said.

Richard stopped and turned around to look at Sebastian. "No you won't be. Sebastian Moran, you're the only one of Jim's men who is at all half way decent, and I'm not going to leave a trail of breadcrumbs for Mycroft Holmes to find you."

"You really hate Mycroft," Sebastian said about the same time that John was realizing the same thing. John was just sort of standing there, feeling a bit like he was watching a show on telly and not real life.

"He hurt my brother," Richard said simply.

Moran's face broke into a grin and he shook his head. "You're of a decent sort," he said.

"Thanks, I suppose," Richard muttered.

"The tie's perfectly fine," Moran said. "No one's going to care anyway; you're just playing a part."

The glare Richard gave Moran could have stripped paint from the walls. "There's no such thing as just playing a part," Richard said, ripping the tie off with a ferocity that John wouldn't was expected from the smaller man. He chided himself for that instantly. Richard could pack quiet a punch, and his brother was the most dangerous man in London… or had been.

Richard shifted his stance just a bit, and started to put the tie on. The way he did it was different this time. It was the same motions he'd preformed with agitation over and over again, creating a perfect knot every time. This time was different. His moves were much more deliberate. Each fold, each twist, each turn was exaggerated, but with purposed, well practiced speed and above all complete calm. He wasn't just in control of his tie but of everything the in room. When Richard finished with his tie it was perfect like it had been each time before. Yet this time John didn't see a trace of Richard, only of Moriarty.

"A small detail can destroy everything," Richard said, grabbing his jacket in one flowing move. He held it facing forward in front of him before flipping into over his head and onto both his arms simultaneous. "Martin Sheen had an injury from childhood that prevented him from being able to put on a coat normally, as such he found his own way to put his coat on, two arms at once. Jim always liked that. He picked up the habit when we were still in school, did you know that Sebastian?" Richard asked.

Moran had stood up, at attention. Richard's presence was demanding it. John didn't know when Moran had stood simply because he'd been so focused on Richard. John felt on edge, like he was watching a predator, waiting for it to strike. Even now, watching Richard simply put on a tie pin with two interlocking flowers, the exact tie pin Jim had worn for his trial, John felt like he wanted to reach for his gun and shoot.

"No, I didn't know, sir," Moran said. John wasn't surprised at the tone. Richard had gone from being himself to completely immolating his brother. No wonder Moran wanted Richard to pretend to be Jim.

"But you've seen him do it before, I imagine," Richard said. Somehow he made the act of straightening his tie look threatening.

"Yes, I have," Moran said.

"You have?" Richard asked, smirking.

"Sir," Sebastian said.

Richard slipped his hands into his pockets and began to walk toward Moran. It was more like a cat leisurely prowling to its prey. He grabbed Moran's chin, pressing his nails into the sensitive flesh. He dragged Moran down, smashing his lips against Moran's. Moran looked shocked, but he didn't dare pull away.

"You were exactly my brother's type, did you know that?" Richard breathed, his lips brushing against Moran's. Moran's body was completely stiff, not daring to so much as twitch, lest he catch the predator's attention anymore. A silence stretched out, Richard clearly expecting an answer but Moran unwilling to speak.

John cleared his throat. "Can we get this over with?"

"Of course," Richard chirped. He let go of Sebastian's face, slipping his hand down the man's chest, heading slowly for his crotch, so it seemed. John couldn't have looked away if he wanted to. It was a bad idea to take your eye off a wild animal, especially one that could attack at any moment.

Sebastian's breath hitched when Richard's hand got to his belt. Yet instead of slipping under the belt, of even down between the ex-soldier's legs, Richard's hands slipped into Moran's pocket. Moran let out a sigh of relief, the tension leaving his body when Richard drew out the keys and jangled them in front of Moran's face.

"Don't look so scared. I'm not Jim after all, just his reject photocopy." Something about the way Richard said the words told John that Jim had called Richard that. It actually made John angry. He didn't trust Richard, not yet. But Moran was right; Richard was of a decent sort. "Let's go, Doctor," Richard said.

The pair of them left, heading back down the lift to the basement level and the garage by extension. "So, what exactly am I doing?" John asked.

"Whatever you feel like, I suppose. I'm not your master, after all," Richard said, flashing John a grin as he found the car. Something about Richard's grin made John feel sorry for Moran. He wasn't sure why exactly, but he also didn't try to figure out why. He let himself be taken in by the sight of the car. It was absolutely beautiful, classic, and unbelievably red.

"Is this Moran's car?"

"Possibly," Richard said, climbing into the driver's seat. John honestly wished he could get a driver's license just to have a chance at driving such a nice car. He let out a heartfelt sigh and climbed into the passenger's side. "Buckle up, I'm a terrible driver," Richard said, flashing a dangerously crazed grin and John buckled up instantly.

Richard wasn't lying about being a terrible driver. He drove at a speed that most dare devils would find daunting and seemed to know the roads of London even better than Sherlock. Whenever traffic seemed like it would slow them down Richard would turn a corner and magically find them a road that didn't have cars. John wasn't even sure that they were heading the right direction for the Diogenes' club. It was possible that Richard was just enjoying driving.

They finally did pull up outside the Diogenes' club (or more skidded to a very impressively accurate if horrifying parallel park at a speed that most sane people wouldn't think of traveling at). Richard got out, straightened himself and smirked, the bastard. John climbed out, calm as he'd ever been. As he and Richard walked up the stairs to the club, John had to question his enjoyment of danger.

"Park it for me, will you Tommy," Richard said, tossing his keys at the doorman, who caught the keys, looking quiet dumbfounded. Richard strode right into the club, finding a free seat. He sat down and poured himself a cup of tea, took a sip, winced and added two cubes of sugar. John simply settled on standing next to Richard while the other man stirred his tea and set the spoon aside.

Outwardly, Richard wasn't doing anything wrong. He was being very quiet, sitting in one place and sipping his tea. He even picked up the newspaper and quietly turned the pages. That didn't mean that everyone in the room wasn't staring at him. After a moment a servant came beckoning for John and Richard to follow. The servant took them to a private room, refilled Richard's tea cup, and left.

"Well," John said, pour his own cup and finding a seat to sit down in. "That's one way to get service in this place."

"Scare the hell out of people?" Richard asked, slouching in his seat. He'd clearly turned off Moriarty mode, which John realized he'd been in since the tie incident. Richard had toned the act down a few times to not upset John or Moran, but he's been playing at being his brother even while driving the car like a fool.

"Mr. Brooke," Mycroft said as he entered the room. "I have been informed that you are making a nuisance of yourself."

"It's a messy job, but someone has to do it," Richard said, sipping his tea.

"Dr. Watson," Mycroft said, merely noting John's presence as a courtesy, though he probably did wonder why John was with Moriarty's twin.

"Mycroft," John said.

"Mr. Brooke, I have already informed you that you will be contacted once your brother's body is ready to be released."

"Yes, I know," Richard said, his tone becoming ice cold, though not in any way like Moriarty when he was threatening people. "Of course, I know you know how to get in contact with me, since you had me pick him up after you'd had him tortured."

"There was, unfortunately. Not one else suitable."

"Shove it," Richard said. "Tell me when I can bury him."

"We are running a number of tests to prove authenticity, including DNA, though there has been a rush, we plan to be sure," Mycroft said. "Within a week, I should imagine." He looked Richard in the eyes and didn't so much as blink. "Are there arrangements you would like to be made?"

"Yes," Richard said, slipping a hand into his pocket and pulling out a piece of paper. He slipped across the coffee table to Mycroft, who bent down to take it. "I want his body sent to this crematorium," Richard said. "Though I will see him again before the cremation," Richard said. "Also, you're footing the bill for the headstone. You owe me for the work I did patching him up after your boys were done with him."

"Duly noted," Mycroft said, folding up the paper and slipping it in his pocket.

"You know," Richard said. "I'm not even sure dear Jim would have thought of using me for his last little scheme if you hadn't shoved him on me, so thank you for that," Richard said, sounding bitter. He stood up and glanced at John, who followed suit. "Have a good day."

Richard walked out and John followed him. They didn't speak until they were in the car. Richard drove at a lot more normal speed, but he still picked back roads to go down that had no traffic. "Mycroft had you pick Moriarty up after he was released?" John finally asked.

"It was awful Dr. Watson," Richard said, his eyes firmly fixed on the road. "I mean, my brother's no saint, and I've always been afraid of him… and I've hated him for as long as I can remember… but It was just… wrong to see him so hurt. He stayed with me for a full week before he'd even speak, and three weeks before he'd let me call Sebastian to come get him," Richard said. His eyes and voice were distant, caught up in a memory. "He doesn't even like me, but he couldn't have anyone else see him like that."

"How bad?" John asked, swallowing a bit. He didn't like seeing people hurt, even people he hated. He dealt with it, but the idea of Moriarty being so badly hurt made John actually feel bad for him. It was easier to think of that time when it came to being angry at Mycroft, actually thinking about the state Jim Moriarty must have been in made John's stomach clench.

"Bad," Richard said, glancing at John and smiling weakly. "Thank you… for coming… this was one of the worst things I've ever had to do."

"As bad as patching him up?" John asked.

Richard's mouth twitched a bit and he sighed. "I hate acting like my brother… I get lost in my acts sometimes… I'm always afraid of what I'll do when I play as Jim… but having you there made me nervous. I didn't want to upset you more… I think if Sebastian had come with me that I would have lost myself," he admitted.

John listened to him. He didn't disregard what Richard said, but he found that he wasn't worried. It was encouraging that Richard actually worried about hurting people."Don't worry."

"Can't help it," Richard said, glancing at John. "Will you come to the funeral?"

"How many people are coming?" John asked.

"Not many, the priest, and Sebastian and Me… you I hope," Richard said. He did look earnestly hopeful and John found that he didn't want to tell Richard no, even thought John really didn't want to go.

"I'll think about it," John said.

"Thank you," Richard said. They lapsed into silence as Richard turned down another back road. The silence didn't last long, though. "You should bring Ms. Hooper with you when you come."

"What, as my date?" John spluttered.

"Well, she knew Jim too," Richard said, pouting a bit. "Besides, I need a not creepy way to see her again."

"You're really serious about asking her out," John said, just figuring out how serious Richard must be.

"Well… I mean she's really cute, isn't she… and she clearly found Jim attractive, so why not me too?" Richard asked.

"I'm not sure it's a great idea to ask her out over your brother's grave."

"I don't plan to ask her out then," Richard scoffed. "If you must know, I plan to see if she'll tell me about the Jim she knew," he admitted. "Maybe we can get coffee… I'm not crazy enough to just ask her out."

"Just… be careful," John said. "I don't think she's really been out with anyone sense then… not that Sherlock could have helped… but she always had a bad crush on Sherlock."

Richard smiled. "Thank you Dr. Watson… you really are of the decent sort… a lot better than most men I've ever met."

A/N:

I am just so, so tired! My week has been like this: Everyday: 5 hours of Russian in the morning. Thursday: 6 hour walking tour about Dostoyevsky. Friday: Hermitage… fucking Hermitage. Today: Peterhoff (Aka: 4 hours of wandering around a huge garden) followed by long walk home, quick shower and a trip the symphony… I'm so tired!

Also, quick fact check: I heard that people diagnosed with PTSD weren't given driver's licenses, is this true?