Tick... tick... tick... tick...
"Sherlock?"
"Mm?" Holmes blinked, tearing his gaze from the ornate mantle clock.
Mycroft sighed deeply, massaging his forehead. "Really, Sherlock... Do try to keep your thoughts in the present? Lord knows, Professor Moriarty's tolerance of your interference thus far has been practically avuncular, but you cannot hope for that to continue. And in your current state of distraction, I should be loath to allow you to cross the street unattended!"
Holmes shook his head, a wan smile tugging at his lips. "You know my history with clocks, Mycroft. I confess, my sleeping habits have not altered a great deal since that first night with Father's pocket watch." He would never have been lulled so easily just now, however, had he found time for sufficient rest over the last few gruelling weeks.
"You insisted on keeping it beside your bed after the funeral, as I recall," Mycroft nodded. "And wound it up at eight o'clock every evening, so you could fall asleep by the ticking." His brow furrowed. "Forgive me, brother... but for all of Father's... For all that he strove to be good to both of us, I had had no notion that you were so very fond of him."
"I should say rather that I... esteemed him," Holmes answered slowly. "We were never particularly close, that is true, but I could not help but be grateful to him for what he had done, all that he had sacrificed to give me... A home, a family... a name..." The last words emerged as a whisper.
"And I shall never understand," Mycroft answered lightly, pretending not to notice, "the appeal of 'Sherlock' as a Christian name, when there was a perfectly good 'Edward' to be had from Grandfather Holmes."
"Well, well, we all have our crosses to bear, do we not... Mycroft." Holmes couldn't conceal a smirk as his older brother grimaced.
"You used to call me Myke when we were younger, do you remember?"
"I did?" Holmes frowned. "When was that?"
"Oh, a very long time ago. It seemed to amuse you, and I must confess, it was pleasant to think sometimes that my name might have been Michael, but for a dreadful twist of fate."
Holmes laughed. "Michael Holmes... It just doesn't carry the same dignitas, does it?"
"I should have striven to bear it, I'm sure," came the dry response. "But talking of timepieces... Mine is informing me that the French ambassador is due in five minutes..." Mycroft's face lost all trace of levity; "and that you have an appointment of your own in Baker Street."
Holmes nodded gravely, hearing clearly all that the man sitting opposite might have wished to say. Rising from his chair, he walked around the desk and silently gripped Mycroft's shoulder. "Until tomorrow, then, brother mine."
"Tomorrow, indeed."
Tick... tick... tick... tick...
He had known a Michael, once... Learning that the man had eventually gone to work at London Zoo had struck Holmes as strangely fitting, although he couldn't quite think why. And the older brother... hadn't he become a doctor, or some such? Poor man... Making one's way through medical college with such an unfortunate surname must have been ten times worse than anything Holmes had experienced in public school...
"You have less frontal development than I should have expected."
Holmes barely refrained from leaping out of his armchair, making a supreme effort to rise with becoming dignity. How had he not heard the sitting room door open?! "Professor Moriarty, what an unexpected pleasure. Pray be seated. It is most fortunate that you find me at home this evening."
His guest gave a dry chuckle as he came forward, taking Watson's usual fireside chair with a nod of thanks. "Fortunate, indeed." The words were pleasant enough, but their soft delivery somehow made Holmes infinitely thankful for the comforting weight in his dressing gown pocket. "But perhaps I was not entirely unexpected."
"I can spare you five minutes, Professor, if you have anything to say." Strange... A faint odour seemed to have entered with Moriarty... Salt? Yes, the tang of salt water, Holmes was certain. And more, even fainter... fish... seaweed... tar... What on earth had the man been doing at the docks before coming here? He could almost hear the waves...
"All that I have to say has already crossed your mind." Holmes realised with chagrin that Moriarty had been observing his moment of distraction in quiet amusement. "My dear sir, are you feeling quite well? For a man on the point of being trodden under foot, you seem dangerously preoccupied."
"Danger is part of my trade," Holmes replied icily, which only seemed to amuse the Professor further.
"Indeed. And it is quite clear that even you do not yet know how true that is." Moriarty rose abruptly, a moment before Holmes, and bowed. "I shall be most intrigued to see how this game of ours plays out, now that we have taken each other's measure. You can do nothing before Monday, in any case. Oh, and do stop fingering that revolver in your dressing gown pocket. It would be terribly bad form to shoot a defenceless man in your rooms, would it not?"
Holmes gave a bark of laughter. "You expect me to believe you came unarmed? The blade in your cane rattles with every step."
"Which, as you may have deduced by its absence, is currently residing in the umbrella stand in your front hall." Moriarty shook his head. "A pity you and I never had the chance to cross actual blades, but there it is. I understand you were quite the swordsman at school, if a little too inclined towards, er, swashbuckling."
"How did...?" Holmes closed his mouth hastily, swearing inwardly at having been so easily drawn. Of course Moriarty would have examined every facet of his opponent's past, including scholastic records! Much good it would have done him... "Who knows, my dear sir? Perhaps an opportunity will one day present itself."
"And what a pleasure that would be," Moriarty smiled sincerely, turning at last towards the door. "Until we meet again, Mr... Holmes, was it?"
A sudden chill travelled the length of the detective's spine. "You know it is." Damn, his voice had sounded far too unsteady just then!
"Of course, do forgive me. My lamentable memory." And then, praise be to all things holy, the man was gone.
A/N: Apologies for posting this in regular Holmes, but this is the only crossover of its type on this site, and I didn't want it to get lost.