Author's notes: Over a hundred reviews! This story has more than a hundred reviews! Muahaha me happy.

Shorter chapter again, my friends. Some things can't be helped.

I don't own anything, please review.

Mycroft half-expected to see Sherlock waiting for him at a corner, or even in front of Westminster Abbey, but he didn't. He admitted to himself that he couldn't expect this Sherlock to do the same things his Sherlock would. Apparently this Sherlock respected his wishes which was strange in his own way, and made Mycroft long to be at home. He missed the opposition, as strange as it sounded.

When he arrived at the mansion it was dark; either Sherlock was in his room or he had gone to sleep which was rather unlikely. He was proven right in his assumption when he entered the house and heard music drift down from the first floor. Sherlock was playing the violin again, something from Handel, if Mycroft was right, and it sounded beautiful.

He walked upstairs slowly, not really wishing to disturb Sherlock. Before he had arrived here, it had been a long time that he'd heard his brother play real music; usually when he came to the flat Sherlock would simply make screeching noises on his violin. This Sherlock always played music, made one feel every note, possessed the gift of making the melody hang in the air long after he had ceased to play.

Mycroft knocked on his door as gently as he could, but the music stopped immediately. He waited for a moment, but Sherlock didn't say anything, so he entered.

Sherlock was standing at the window, staring into the night.

"What did he say?" he asked softly.

Mycroft answered "He wants to play. He gives us a chance to solve the case. He will be watching us, of course."

Sherlock turned around. "You accepted".

"I didn't say no" Mycroft said, and Sherlock tensed.

He turned to look out of the window again and asked very quietly, "Would it be so bad if we didn't pursue it? Jim would have no reason to go after us, and we could just keep living our lives."

"Sherlock!" Mycroft exclaimed, shocked. He had to admit that it was a normal reaction, an all too normal reaction to have come from his real brother. And the possibility of having Moriarty forget about them was tempting, very tempting indeed. But he couldn't let this go, and his Sherlock wouldn't have been able to either. But this Sherlock... could Mycroft blame him for wanting to go back to the easy life he had known before he had shown up? Could he blame him for trying not to be caught up in Mycroft's and Moriarty's game?

Maybe his brother would have been happier all along, if he had had the same attitude towards consulting criminals and meddling elder brothers.

He was about to finally answer when Sherlock turned around once again, shook his head and said "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Of course he has to be stopped."

"You don't have to do it with me, though".

Sherlock snorted. "And who else is going to help you if not me?"

"I could always ask Anthea" he countered.

"Without evidence that you haven't lost your mind? I'd like to see you try". Sherlock tried to sound angry, but he couldn't help the smirk that appeared on his face, and Mycroft smiled back.

"So you will help me?" he asked. He was rather sure Sherlock would, but he wanted to hear it from him. He wanted to know Sherlock was ready to go after Moriarty, that he knew what it entailed.

Sherlock nodded. "Why not? You only ask me to go after a man I considered my best friend three days ago". His face was serious when he said it, though, and Mycroft knew he would help him.

"I assume" Sherlock finally continued "he didn't give you any clues? It would be fair but somehow I don't think Moriarty would so anything considered "fair"".

Mycroft shook his head. "We will have to figure it out by ourselves."

For a moment, just for a moment, he could have sworn that he saw the familiar spark in Sherlock's eyes. The spark that always came when he was going to solve a crime, the spark that had been there until he had been forced to knock out Moran.

Speaking of Moran –

"I'll see if Moran has been bailed out already" he announced. "He's Moriarty's right-hand man, and, should he be released, will definitely be the one to keep an eye on us".

Sherlock nodded and followed him into his room. Mycroft looked up the information and sighed.

"Moriarty got him out". It wasn't a question, and Mycroft nodded.

"It was to be expected" he said. "Moran is the only man Moriarty trusts – or comes close to trusting, anyway. He wouldn't have allowed him to be in jail for long".

"I'm sure that upset Inspector Lestrade" Sherlock commented, and Mycroft flinched. He would never get used to Sherlock dismissing his friends so easily.

"Sorry" his brother apologized, and Mycroft couldn't say anything because it felt so utterly wrong. Sherlock shouldn't be apologizing to him because he had said something like this about Lestrade; he should care, even though it was a disadvantage, that he had said it.

He shook his head. "No worries".

"You are sure he was the one – " Sherlock started to ask, but Mycroft quickly answered him with, "Yes, I am sure".

Sherlock shrugged. "He just seems a bit..."

"Uninterested? I know".

Sherlock smiled. "I was going to say "utterly incompetent because not caring about what he does in the slightest", but your choice of words was certainly nicer".

Mycroft nodded and continued to read. "He was released an hour ago. Shortly after I left Westminster Abbey".

"At least Moriarty cares for his pets in some degree" Sherlock grumbled. Mycroft swallowed because it was difficult to hear Sherlock say "pet" in this way. John would have been furious.

"I hardly thinks it classifies as "caring"" he muttered. "It does make things a little more difficult, though" he finally added. Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "More difficult? I didn't think that possible".

They were silent for a moment, then Sherlock suggested, "You said I worked with the police, right? Any chance we could get your Inspector to agree?"

Mycroft ignored the fact that Sherlock had just decided to call Lestrade "his Inspector" and replied sarcastically, "I don't know. Why don't you go ask him? I'm sure he would be glad to see you again, Doctor Holmes".

Sherlock's brows furrowed. "I simply stated that he could call me by my proper title, if he insisted that he come into our house. Plus, he tried to call me "Sherlock" at one point, remember?"

Mycroft did remember it quite well, but he doubted Sherlock would agree with his theories.

He looked at his watch and decided it was time for them to get a few hours' rest. Sherlock was obviously tired and didn't object. Mycroft lay awake for some time, wondering how exactly they could get Lestrade to let them assist in the investigation until he finally fell asleep.

Sherlock was up before him once again – he might sleep in this world, but he definitely slept less than normal human beings – and said, as soon as Mycroft entered the dining room, "I have to go to the lab. Once of my experiments showed a surprising reaction and the employees don't know what to make of it".

"I see" Mycroft answered, "In this case, you had better go". Sherlock looked at him sceptically and Mycroft was aware that he could probably tell that he was almost relieved to be able to go to Scotland Yard and talk to Lestrade without him. He knew the DI and Sherlock didn't, which would make talking to him alone the easier option.

Sherlock shrugged and turned around. "I'll call you".

"Please do" Mycroft replied quietly, realizing that his indifference had once again hurt this version of his brother who had probably never felt that Mycroft didn't want him around.

He couldn't help it, though, so he pushed the feeling of guilt away and caught a cab to Scotland Yard. There was every reason to suppose that Lestrade would immediately throw him out of his office, but he had to try. And if he showed up in person he could at least force the DI to listen – he would probably hang up if Mycroft were to call him.

No one hindered him as he made his way to Lestrade's office, and Mycroft wondered if this was because no one really cared what happened to the DI. It didn't really make the thought of going in and turning the life of the man upside down again any more pleasant.

He was surprised when the DI called "Enter" after he had knocked. He opened the door and found Lestrade engrossed in a file, apparently trying to figure something out for a change.

He looked at Mycroft and raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing here, Mr. Holmes?"

"I come to offer you assistance in the Cairns and Carey murders" he replied smoothly, closing the door behind him.

Lestrade frowned. "I know how you know about Cairns – you were there – but what do you have to do with Carey?"

Yesterday, after he had seen him out of his house, Mycroft wouldn't have tried to explain. He hadn't even thought he would try even after going to his office, to be honest.

But now –

Lestrade didn't wear his wedding ring, and his desk was... tidy.

He was trying to start working properly again.

So Mycroft took a deep breath and said, "First of all, it was Cairns who put the hit on Carey".

Lestrade closed the file in his hands and gestured towards the chair in front of his desk. "Tell me more".

And Mycroft had the feeling that for the first time since he'd landed in this strange world he may have found an ally.

Author's note: Don't I love some bonding...

I hope you liked it, please review.