Outside observers might suspect that Mycroft made John do everything while he sat back and twirled his umbrella. Outside observers were usually wrong about Mycroft.

Just before he jumped, Sherlock had been falsely accused of kidnapping an ambassador's children. Mycroft theorized that the real kidnapper had to have gained the trust of both Moriarty (who would not give such an important task to just anyone) and Scotland Yard (so that the kidnapper could convince them of Sherlock's guilt). In other words, Moriarty had a mole at Scotland Yard. Mycroft deduced that the mole was a relatively new hire; if the mole was someone Sherlock and John knew, they'd have discovered him. The mole also needs to be someone with substantial reasons to work for both sides, Mycroft thought. Double agents are always the first to be killed and a person would not take on that type of risk without a reason. Over the last few weeks, Mycroft had reviewed the personnel files of all the Yarders hired in the eight weeks prior to Sherlock's jump. It had been labourious, but in late November, he'd finally found what he was looking for: Tim Nabors, a 31-year-old sergeant who'd begun working with Lestrade roughly a month before Sherlock's "death."

Tim had sown some wild oats in his younger days and was arrested a few times for vandalism, shoplifting, and possession of marijuana. He appeared to have cleaned up his act after his younger brother, Travis, was convicted of two counts of murder and sentenced to life in Strangeways Prison. The boys had been the best of mates as children but Tim had never visited his brother in prison. The brothers hadn't even spoken since Travis was incarcerated in late 2006.

Mycroft read the media coverage of the murder that sent Travis Nabors to jail. Travis had attempted to rob a local convenience store and shot the owner and a customer; as he tried to escape, the driver of the getaway car abandoned him. The car and driver were never found. Travis swore that his brother was the driver, but six witnesses testified that they saw Tim at party on the other side of town during the robbery. Ever since the robbery, Tim had been a model citizen and police officer. Why, then, would he go to Moriarty now?

Going through Tim's old ATM records and CCTV footage, Mycroft found the answer. Tim's association with Moriarty was not new at all; they'd been working together for years. Six years, to be exact. Mycroft decided to have a little chat with the elder Nabors brother.

That afternoon, Mycroft's people dragged Tim into the interrogation room. Tim, a stocky young man with sandy hair, sneered at Mycroft from the metal chair. Two security guards stood next to him stoically.

"Mr. Nabors, I understand you're an associate of the late James Moriarty."

Tim said coolly, "Don't know what you're talking about, mate."

"Really? That's very interesting because I have quite a number of photos of the two of you together." One by one, Mycroft placed CCTV images of Tim meeting Moriarty on the table. "As you can see, some of these are recent and some go back as far as 2006. Isn't that the year your brother went to prison?"

Tim stared at Mycroft, defiant and unblinking. "If you got something to say, say it."

"As I recall, your brother claimed that you were his accomplice in the crime that sent him to jail."

"He's lying. I was at a party that night and I got six people who can prove it. You know how it can be between brothers, Mr. Holmes," Tim said with a defiant smirk.

Ice now, payback later. Emotions are a weakness, Mycroft reminded himself. "Yes… six 'witnesses' who also owed favours to one Jim Moriarty. I investigated all six of them, Mr. Nabors. Two of them needed Moriarty's help to hide a murder, two needed him to make some evidence disappear, and one had a secret family he was hiding from his wife. Child's play for Moriarty, I'm sure. But the sixth chap, now he's interesting! I understand Moriarty took a real shine to him. It seems that the sixth witness needed Moriarty to cover up his psychiatric records so that he could be inducted into Her Majesty's Army. You see, the Queen is not amused by the idea of someone with Antisocial Personality Disorder wearing her uniform."

Mycroft leant over Tim as he continued. "It's that sixth man I want to ask you about. What can you tell me about Sebastian Moran?"

"Why should I tell you?" Tim spat.

"Because Moriarty missed one small detail when destroying the evidence for your involvement in the robbery," Mycroft said, placing an old, battered security camera on the table.

Mycroft paused to watch the rage flare in Tim's face as he struggled impotently against his handcuffs. Mycroft chided him, "Now, now, don't get too upset with Moriarty; it was rather early in his career and he was bound to make a few mistakes. He thought this little gem would stay hidden forever, but I found it in the archives. It recorded the parking lot the night of the robbery, and wouldn't you know? Despite being hopelessly out of date, this camera has a clear image of the face of the driver of the getaway car. Your face, Mr. Nabors. And if you don't tell me everything you know about Moran, I'm going to show this video to your superiors at Scotland Yard."

Tim glowered. "I'm not scared of them."

"But clearly you are scared of Moriarty and Moran since you obeyed when they ordered you to kidnap the ambassador's children."

"You can't prove that."

Mycroft gave Tim a condescending look and laid out his evidence calmly and methodically. "I can tell from the way you are sweating, your refusal to make eye contact, your rapid breathing and your difficulty in swallowing that you are lying to me. Then there's your flat. That plumber last week was actually one of my agents. You let him in, so I didn't need to obtain a warrant. The evidence is still everywhere: duct tape, the pictures of a man in a long black coat used to scare the children, the Weetabix."

Noticing the younger man's disbelieving expression, Mycroft continued, "Yes, the Weetabix. I know the ambassador and his family. The children told me that they were only fed Weetabix during their captivity and my agent found that you still have quite a lot left over. Not only that, but while the children were missing, you were caught on CCTV buying much more Weetabix than a single man would need, plus significant quantities of dextromethorphan cough syrup – likely used to drug the children so they wouldn't be discovered at their hiding place, or in higher doses, to induce hallucinations. You really ought to be more careful about cameras."

With no response from Tim, Mycroft added, "And then there's everything I learned from the children's therapist…"

Tim stared at the floor. He reminded Mycroft of a teenage boy getting an angry lecture from his parents.

Mycroft's steely gaze pinned Tim to the chair. "You, Mr. Nabors, are choiceless. I have you for the kidnapping, the robbery, and destruction of evidence. Scotland Yard will fire you and Moran will execute you as you are of no further use to him. If by some miracle you escape Moran's clutches, you'll be sent to Strangeways. I'm sure your brother will be thrilled to be reunited with you after all these years. He might even throw you a welcome party," Mycroft said with a terrifying grin.

"And if I do help?"

"A Category B prison, far away from your brother and Moran's known associates. It's the best anyone can do."

Defeated, Tim started talking. "Moran took over after Jim died. He's not as clever as Jim was, but he's just as vicious. He's also the best shot I've ever seen. He learnt in the Army before he got kicked out."

"Dishonourable discharge? Why?"

"You don't ask him those things if you want to stay above ground."

Mycroft gave a brief nod. He had other ways of finding that information. "Can you tell us where he operates?"

"I know where his London bases are. He has some elsewhere but I've never been."

Mycroft said, "Good. Mark them on this map." He paused as Tim did so, then raised an eyebrow and inquired, "Just one more question. Why did you want your brother sent to prison?"

Tim scowled. "He was banging my girlfriend. He thought I didn't know, the bastard."

The older man sniffed, "That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. Take him into custody."

As he watched the guards drag Tim off, Mycroft smiled quietly to himself. The next time Sherlock claims that I am the worst brother in Britain, I shall tell him about the Nabors boys.

A/N: Description of Tim is based on this theory about the Scotland Yard mole: [dot com] / post / 25671311520 / dreamerofbakerst-finalproblem-so-all-of-a (remove spaces).

Strangeways is an actual Category A (maximum security) prison in Manchester, England. Category B prisons are slightly less secure. I am not British, so I apologize in advance if I goofed.