Present Day
"It is of the utmost importance that I get this clearance within the next five minutes." Mycroft demanded, leaving the PA at the other end of the line stumbling over her words and muttering her profuse apologies at the 'unfortunate delay'.
Mycroft was unperturbed. "It is no concern of mine whether or not Sir Morton is in an important meeting. Please disturb him and make my request known immediately."
Sherlock smirked. He loved to see Mycroft take control, as long as that control wasn't being wielded over Sherlock himself, of course. Mycroft cocked an eyebrow at his brother's expression while he waited for the young PA to come back to the phone.
Both men knew full well that Sir Morton's 'important meeting' was very likely with one of his three mistresses, and Mycroft had no intention of letting such a liaison take priority over getting his clearance.
He cupped his hand over the telephone receiver and leaned in towards Sherlock.
"Somebody won't be getting lucky tonight." he quipped, knowing that, for high level government employees, work interruptions are little tolerated by their many lovers. Sherlock smiled knowingly and was about to come back with a snarky response when Mycroft's attention was snapped back to the call.
"And that is with immediate effect?" he asked, making it sound more like a declaration than a question. His subsequent nod affirmed that, and Mycroft dropped the phone down once more.
He took a deep, calming breath, lowering his heart rate and returning, momentarily, back to his 'non-battle' mode.
"Counter terrorism are arriving at 8am tomorrow. We have 12 hours." Sherlock licked his lips with an inkling that he knew where his brother was going with this. "We shall have dinner first, Sherlock," he continued, making to stand and circle around the table towards his brother, "and we can discuss how we are going to do this."
"What do you think he will say?" Sherlock asked his brother, lowering his coffee cup as he watched Mycroft wipe a stray dessert crumb from his mouth. "Do you think he will tell them?" His voice cracked a little with the second question. The memory had been so long repressed that it was almost as if it belonged to someone else. Some other family. Some other lifetime.
Mycroft folded his napkin, carefully placing it down on the table and reached across to take his younger brother's hand. He looked scared. Genuinely completely terrified. In that moment, Mycroft felt such overwhelming emotion for his brother that he himself choked back a sob. Sherlock had been through so much. Their childhood, their father, the consequences they had both had to live with as a result of that... so much.
He glanced around, wary of onlookers but seeing none, and gave his brother's hand a gentle squeeze.
"I shall do my absolute best to ensure that does not happen, Sherlock."
Mycroft switched off both cameras and audio in the small interrogation room and for a long while, the brothers stood on the safe side of the one-way glass, just watching Jim Moriarty.
"He looks so like his father now." Mycroft turned to Sherlock, noticing how his brother's eyes were almost glued to the bound man. The younger man shrugged. He didn't really remember James Moriarty anyway.
"Do you think he will talk?" Sherlock finally said, looking up at his brother with a look of fear that Mycroft had not seen on Sherlock's face for many years,
The elder Holmes stepped closer to his sibling, taking his hands and rubbing his thumbs over the ridges of his knuckles.
"I don't know, Sherlock." he eventually responded, turning his head to glance sideways through the glass, "I don't know."
Mycroft Holmes stepped into the interrogation room with an aloof coolness that in every way masked his true feelings.
Being there, in that room, with that man, made his throat dry and his heart race, but years of practise had enabled the Holmes brothers to outwardly portray calm and control under any circumstances.
These circumstances however, were certainly going to be a test.
An exhausted-looking Jim Moriarty lifted his head with a self-satisfied smile.
"I knew you'd come." he said, rolling his neck to remove the stiffness that had settled in from several hours of weary sleep bound to a chair. "You took your time."
Mycroft swallowed hard. He needed to stay in control of the situation and that meant not letting Jim Moriarty get the upper hand.
"Counter-terrorism are coming in the morning." he responded coolly, circling around behind Jim in an attempt to unnerve the captive. "I really don't think you will like their tactics. They have..." he paused, as much for effect than necessity, "... certain ways of making people talk."
Jim raised an eyebrow and licked his chapped and bloodied lips. "Really, Mycroft? Is that what you really want?" the Irishman drawled in a voice that made Mycroft turn his back to the man and close his eyes briefly to regain control.
"I no longer have control over the situation." he replied, sideways-glancing at his reflection in the mirror and knowing that his brother stood watching on the other side. "It is out of my hands."
Jim let out a single bark of laughter.
"Well," he said, shifting in his bonds and fixing his face into a wide grin. "That is rather... unfortunate."
Mycroft turned back to Jim. It hurt him to see the man this way, and he knew that tomorrow things looked even more grim for Moriarty and his network.
He crossed the room and grabbed a chair, pulling it opposite Jim's and sitting close. Their knees were almost touching, and the change in Jim's demeanour, for a split second before he reined it in again, was evident.
Mycroft flattened his expression again and looked up into Jim's dark eyes. Those deep dark pools that were the windows to a soul that hid so much.
Taking a long breath before speaking, Mycroft asked the question that they had been dreading since the moment it became apparent that he could not avoid Jim Moriarty's arrest this time.
"What do you want from me this time?"