Author's note: Thank you for all the reviews. Now, on with the plot.
I don't own anything.
Mycroft stared at the excited consulting criminal, his thoughts racing. He should have anticipated that the only person who'd really believe his story in this universe, except for his brother, was a madman, a madman who was bored and wanted other worlds to play with.
And he might get what he wanted. There might be a chance that Moriarty wouldn't make his way to his world; but Mycroft knew that, if indeed every choice created a parallel universe, there were many, too many worlds the consulting criminal could end up in; too many worlds he could destroy because he was bored.
And it would all be his fault – if he didn't prevent Moriarty from entering the Portal.
Moriarty seemed to read his thoughts – he had always had this ability, he remembered, which was why it had been so difficult to interrogate him – and said, "Now, don't get any ideas. I might decide that one of you is quite enough to get me to the Portal".
Mycroft forced himself not to look at Sherlock, but of course Moriarty knew he had understood the threat.
"So I was right" he announced to no one in particular. "The Big Brother instinct still works, even if this isn't your real little brother. By the way – how does it feel to know you left him behind? To know he could have been a scientist?"
Mycroft didn't answer; Moriarty was simply taunting him, and he wasn't going to allow him the satisfaction of seeing he had thought the same several times since he arrived here.
"Come on, My, you're no fun. Answer me. How does it feel to know you practically destroyed your little brother's life? Then again, in our world, he became the best friend of a sociopath, so maybe you made the right decision after all. But I guess we'll never know".
He clapped his hands and stood up. "Anyway, you and Sherlock are going to take me to the Portal. And don't try to attack me or do something equally dull – I'll have my pistol on your dearest Sherlock the whole time. As soon as you make a wrong move, he dies".
Moriarty beamed and made a signal to someone who'd been standing in the shadows behind Mycroft's chair. He felt his ties being undone and saw the some done to Sherlock. Moriarty held a gun to Sherlock's head, just as he'd said he would.
"Now" he said cheerfully, "shall we go?"
Mycroft had no other choice but to obey. Not only was Moriarty threatening Sherlock, but Moran – of course it had been him who had loosened Mycroft's bonds – and another man were keeping a close eye on the two brothers.
It didn't take a consulting detective to see that Sherlock was panicked. He didn't know what to do, and he knew that Moriarty would kill both him and Mycroft if he tried anything; plus, despite what he had told Mycroft, he wasn't used to these situations. Furthermore, he had trusted Moriarty only a few short days ago; the consulting criminal had made him trust him like – Mycroft had to swallow down his anger – he had, in another world, trusted John.
And, to be honest, Mycroft could imagine very easily that Moriarty would have left Sherlock alone if he'd never shown up. The consulting criminal would have continued arranging crimes, yes, and people would have suffered – but Sherlock would have been safe.
He knew that this was a thought Sherlock wouldn't have welcomed; he knew that it was exactly the type of thought he'd pushed away when he'd told Jim his brother's life story.
He decided not to think about this right now and instead focus on getting him and Sherlock out of the predicament they'd got themselves in.
Reluctantly he told Moriarty the address to the lab – hat least he would know where they were. Right now, he didn't have this advantage. He didn't know how long he'd been unconscious, or were Moriarty had had them brought; he was simply sure that they weren't in the Gallery anymore. Not even the consulting criminal would risk an employee or lost visitor stumbling over him.
He did, however, catch Sherlock's eyes as he turned around and was glad to see that his brother had fought against his panic and was taking everything in with his usual sharp glance. Together, they might just have a chance against Moriarty.
Moriarty sat between them in the car Moran was driving, still happily pointing a gun at Sherlock.
"I'm so sorry I didn't pay any attention to you until now, Sherly. I'm sorry. That's not how a best friend should act".
Sherlock said nothing.
"Come on! We had fun, didn't we? And you can't deny I was the best friend you could ever have hoped to have – don't take me wrong, but you are a little bit weird".
Sherlock looked at him in a way that told Mycroft he was remembering everything he'd learned about the ex-army doctor who might have changed his life, and shook his head. "What happened to you?"
The question came unexpected to both Mycroft and Moriarty, but it was calmly said, and the elder realized he was trying to make the consulting criminal uncomfortable.
"I never asked" Sherlock continued, his voice growing firmer. "I figured you'd tell me in time, but you never did. So, what happened? People aren't born psychopaths. Did your father beat you? Or your mother? Or both of you? Or did he do something else entirely?"
His tactic was not without its risk, but Mycroft could see it was beginning to work. For the first time, Mycroft saw something like genuine annoyance and – was that – pain? in Moriarty's face.
"You were always annoying, I'm glad this whole game is over, I've had enough" he hissed.
"Oh, so it was your mother then?" Sherlock asked.
In the next moment, Moriarty punched him in the face with his gun and trained it on Mycroft when he made a move to intervene.
"Don't play the hero, My. It's boring. And you don't want to bore me, not when you've become interesting for the first time in years". Then he turned to Sherlock, who was holding his bleeding nose, and cheerfully told him, "If people don't tell their friends something, it's because they don't want them to know. Remember it – it might come in handy one day".
Sherlock didn't answer and instead looked out the window. Mycroft knew his brother; he knew he was trying to figure out how to save them. The problem was, Moriarty knew it as well, judging from the amused look he shot Mycroft.
The consulting criminal didn't speak to them again during the remainder of the journey, being content with humming "Staying Alive" under his breath and tapping the rhythm with his fingers.
At least they only had Moran and Moriarty to contend with now, although Mycroft guessed most people wouldn't see that as good news.
When they arrived at the lab, Moriarty told Sherlock "not to do anything that might endanger your dear brother, because we don't want that, do we?" and the younger Holmes swallowed and nodded.
The security man greeted Sherlock politely and let them in without comment when Sherlock introduced Moriarty and Moran as "colleagues". Mycroft would have to make sure the lab hired better personal if they – after they had managed to get the better of the consulting criminal.
"Sebby, you stay out here and make sure no one interrupts us" Moriarty ordered when they arrived at the room where the Portal was kept, Sherlock leading the way, and the sniper complied. Mycroft suddenly realized that Jim probably didn't trust Moran enough to have him in the room when he tried to go through the Portal. That wasn't surprising though. Moriarty had never trusted anyone.
"How does this work?" Moriarty demanded eagerly a soon as the door had closed behind them.
Sherlock sighed. "Percy repaired the Portal, so it should work... however, we haven't found out yet how it could open a door into another universe to begin with".
"I'm sure you'll figure it out, you have the whole night" Moriarty said confidently.
Mycroft didn't know whether to hope that Sherlock could make it work or not – or if, should Sherlock find out how the Portal worked, he should tell Moriarty the truth or lie. He didn't doubt that the consulting criminal would kill them if they didn't succeed; however, he was rather sure he would kill them before he stopped in the Portal. Just to be on the safe side.
And, of course, if Sherlock made it work –
Moriarty would once again be haunting his world, would make Sherlock's life a living hell again, Sherlock who had already suffered enough. True, John would be there, and Lestrade – and Sherlock had won against Moriarty once before –
Sherlock had won. Maybe he should tell the consulting criminal. It was worth a try, at least.
"Jim" he began calmly, and the happy consulting criminal turned around, indicating that he would listen to him, "Do you know what you are getting yourself into?"
"No, My – that's part of the fun!" Moriarty answered matter-of-factly, and Mycroft shook his head.
"You were defeated once in my universe" he said quietly, "You will be again".
"Why? You think history will repeat itself?" Jim pouted. "Think, Mycroft. This world is different from yours, is it not? For once, you and Sherlock are close. Your DI-friend forsook you at the first opportunity. And I spent years in hiding. Since I am gone in your world, I assume that my dear dead counterpart didn't really try to blend in there. But, whoever "defeated" me, as you so elegantly put it" – and his eyes trailed over to Sherlock, making Mycroft realize that he guessed at least part of the truth – "doesn't even have to know I'm there. Not for a while, at least. And, maybe then, once I'm settled, we can play a game". His eyes glittered.
"You'll have to be your web up again" Mycroft argued, and Moriarty laughed. "Even better! You have no idea how dull it is to have achieved everything – nowadays I simply have to make a call to scare people into submission. In the good old days, before my reputation, I had to threaten and torture people – much more exciting."
Mycroft saw that he wouldn't be able to convince Moriarty to stay – not that he had really held high hopes, but it had been his only plan. The consulting criminal wasn't interested in continuing the conversation and sat down on a table, starting to whistle.
If only he had a weapon. If only he had thought this through, instead of dragging Sherlock into it. If only he had his Sherlock by his side. He would know what to do. Or do something recklessly stupid that would in the end save the day. Either way, they wouldn't stand around helplessly while Moriarty won.
And yet –
They didn't have to stand around hopelessly. There was one thing they could do to prevent Moriarty from crossing over into Mycroft's world. They both knew it, even though they hadn't had a chance to speak since they'd woken up in Moriarty's lair.
If they managed to destroy the Portal, or at least damage it irrevocably –
Moriarty wouldn't be able to get into his world.
And Mycroft wouldn't be able to return.
He wasn't prepared for the pain he felt at the thought; he finally had to admit to himself that the hope of returning to his world was what had kept him going. The thought of going back, of being home. The thought of seeing Sherlock again, and Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson and even John...
He couldn't allow Moriarty to enter their lives again, though. He couldn't. If that meant he had to sty – if that meant he never got to see them again – so be it.
He only hoped that Sherlock was thinking the same thing and would see that it was inevitable. He looked at his brother, who was avoiding his eyes. And not just because he was afraid Moriarty might do something; there was something like guilt in his posture. So he had already thought about it.
All of a sudden, a shot rang out, and a voice shouted something. More shots followed.
Moriarty stopped whistling and sprang up. He frowned. "What –"
More shots, more shouting.
Sherlock and Mycroft looked at one another; both had recognized the voice.
Against all odds, Lestrade had tried and managed to find them.
Author's note: Yes, another one. On the other hand, this story is not going to be much longer – it should be over in a few chapters.
I hope you liked it, please review.