Author's note: I got 200 reviews! I got two hundreds reviews! I got two hundred reviews! (Doing happy dance that is so embarrassing I'm glad no one can see me).

You are wonderful. I can't thank you enough.

Also, this is now my longest story to date. I do not think, however, that it is going to be much longer (no, really). The next chapter is probably going to be the last.

I don't own anything.

While he triumphed in the thought that Lestrade had found them, even though no one had know they were missing, so Greg had obviously chose to follow them, simply because he had felt it was the right thing to do, Mycroft stayed practical: they had no way of knowing if Greg would win against Moran, or at least if he had called back-up.

But at least Moriarty wasn't paying attention to them right now, and this was their chance to act.

He tackled the consulting criminal, trusting Sherlock to get out of the line of fire. His brother obviously understood and ducked just as Moriarty pressed the trigger.

The bullet buried itself into the wall and Mycroft tried to get the gun out of Moriarty's hands. Sherlock tried to help him, but he really couldn't do much, so instead he sprinted to the door and threw it open.

Mycroft didn't really know what was happening, being occupied with Moriarty, but he heard a few shouts, a few shots and hoped that Sherlock and Greg were alright.

Finally, he managed to wrestle the gun from Moriarty's hand and tried knocking him out; in the next moment, someone dragged him off the consulting criminal who slumped down unconscious.

He caught Sherlock's eyes. The younger Holmes was breathing heavily, holding a gun – presumably Moran's – in his hands.

"Greg?" he asked breathlessly.

"I'm fine, just wondering how to explain this to the Chief Superintendent" the DI answered behind him, and Mycroft turned around to find him holding a handkerchief to his bleeding nose.

"Good job with Moran" he said.

Greg shrugged. "It was more luck than anything else. I slipped on the floor and ended up kicking his knee. And then Sherlock showed up." There was a new note of respect in hzis voice and Mycroft hid a smile.

"Where is he?"

"Unconscious and cuffed to radiator in the corridor".

Mycroft could have laughed with relief. Instead, he simply said, "Thank you".

Lestrade waved a dismissive hand while still trying to stop the blood flow from his nose.

"Please. They were hardly subtle when they dragged you both into the car. I saw it from a window and followed."

Mycroft nodded; Moran was an excellent sniper and had, by all accounts, been a good soldier, but he wasn't the most intelligent criminal he'd ever encountered.

No, that honour belonged to the man lying unconsciously a few metres from him.

He walked over and kneeled down.

"Is he – " Sherlock asked, his voice neutral.

Mycroft shook his head. "No. He's breathing".

"And under arrest" Greg announced, "for kidnapping you – at least for you. I guess we'll be able to link a few more crimes to him once he's in custody."

"Just make sure he had absolutely no contact with anyone outside of prison" Mycroft said, remembering how the last trial Moriarty had been on had ended, and Greg nodded.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Mycroft..."

He looked at him. The younger man indicated the Portal with his head. "I think I figured out the settings. All you'll have to do is to concentrate on your memories, your decision to leave me behind... hopefully".

Mycroft nodded and heard Greg sigh behind him. "Really? Still the parallel universe thing?"

"Why do you think we are here? Moriarty wanted to cross dimensions, so to speak."

Greg raised an eyebrow and looked at the still unconscious consulting criminal.

"Well" he finally said, "I'll believe it when I see it".

It was the best he could get, so Mycroft nodded.

"I just wanted to say... Thank you, Greg, for everything".

Greg looked like he didn't know whether to pity or laugh at him, so he settled for shaking his hand with all the dignity he could muster.

Mycroft turned around to Sherlock, once again not knowing what to say. This Sherlock wasn't his brother; but they had lived together, solved crimes together, defeated a consulting criminal together. He swallowed.

Sherlock gave him a half-smile.

"Goodbye it is, then" he said simply, and Mycroft heard Greg move towards Moriarty, obviously trying to give them some privacy.

Sherlock looked on the floor, then back up at Mycroft.

"Thanks" he continued. "For..."

"Ruining your life?" Mycroft asked and they chuckled. Sherlock's eyes softened. "Something like that".

"Do you think your brother is going to reappear once I leave?" Mycroft wanted to know. He couldn't stay here, didn't want to stay here; but he didn't want to leave Sherlock alone either.

"I don't know" the scientist admitted, "but just because I'm not sure I can't steal another man's brother. He needs you".

Mycroft thought the last statement debatable, but didn't say anything. He just smiled. Sherlock smiled back.

"Time to cross dimensions, My" he said and they went to the Portal together. Sherlock made sure that the settings worked one last time and waved at Mycroft to get to the machine.

He laid a hand on the panel and remembered leaving Sherlock behind all those years ago.

The lights on the Portal glowed when he suddenly heard a moan from behind him and turned around, quickly but not quick enough to prevent Moriarty grabbing Sherlock and holding a gun to his head.

He looked over the consulting criminal's shoulder and saw Greg lying on the floor.

"Don't worry" Moriarty said, "He isn't dead. I could have killed him, you know, but I am kind of impressed how he managed to disarm Sebby. So he gets a few extra-minutes. As a token of my appreciation." He pressed the gun right behind Sherlock's temple.

"Now, Mycroft, if you would kindly step away from the Portal."

Mycroft looked at Sherlock and read in his eyes that he wanted him to leave; to simply go back to his world and be safe. But he couldn't do that. He stepped away.

Moriarty smiled. "Good decision. Now, what am I going to do with you?"

For one moment Mycroft thought he was going to pull the trigger, but then Jim just laughed.

"Oh, no, I don't really want to kill any of you... But on the other hand I might just have to". He pretended to think about it. "But, you see, if I leave you alive, you might destroy the Portal – and I'd like to be able to return should things not work out. And, of course, poor Sebby would go to prison."

"As if you care about that" Mycroft spit, and Moriarty chuckled. "I suppose you are right. But he has been such a loyal pet..." The consulting criminal looked at Sherlock, then back at Mycroft. "The question is – who should I kill first?"

Mycroft realized he had to make a decision; he realized he had to destroy the Portal. Moriarty would kill them either way, but he wouldn't be able to "wreak havoc", as he had put it, in other worlds.

It wasn't even sure that Moriarty would end up in his world – his choices weren't Mycroft's choices – but God knew what he would do in any universe he happened to find himself in. There were so many possibilities, so many innocents at risk. Destroying the Portal was the only way to stop him.

He would never get home, even if they made it out alive; but it was a price worth paying if it meant saving his brother from Moriarty, as he should have done when he'd had the chance in his world.

He saw the knowledge of what he'd do in Sherlock's eyes and made a leap towards the Portal; Moriarty, surprised, needed a second longer to react than he should have. Sherlock elbowed him in the stomach and grabbed the gun, throwing it away. Mycroft, seeing this, managed barely not to hit the Portal and went for the gun instead, while Sherlock and Moriarty were rolling around on the floor.

He found the gun but saw he wouldn't be able to use it, not as long as Sherlock and Jim were intertwined. He laid the gun on the table and rushed towards them, trying to drag the consulting criminal away from his brother.

Moriarty knew how to fight, although that wasn't a surprise; Sherlock went for his legs and Mycroft for his arms, and finally they managed to pin him on the floor. He caught Sherlock's gaze; he nodded and Mycroft ran to the table and grabbed the gun.

Moriarty had a gush on his temple; the blood ran down his face and must make it hard to see, but he still continued to struggle.

"Sherlock" Mycroft cried, "Out of the way!"

Sherlock managed to free Moriarty's hold on him and jumped away.

The consulting criminal wished the blood out of his eyes and looked at Mycroft, perfectly calm and still smiling.

"What now, Big Brother? We both know you are not going to kill me."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "Am I not?"

Moriarty grinned. "You can't honestly expect me to believe you would shoot a man in cold blood. I know you, remember?"

"Oh no you don't."

For the first time, Moriarty's smile faltered.

Mycroft smiled a grim smile and said, "Surprise".

Then he pulled the trigger.

Moriarty slumped down, a bullet in his head. Mycroft turned to look at Sherlock, not knowing what to expect.

The younger Holmes was shaking, and he realized he had probably never seen someone die before; then he took a deep breath and nodded.

"It was the right thing to do, after all you told me about his trial".

"Are you okay?" Mycroft asked, and Sherlock shook his head.

"I will be, though. It's just – " he looked down on Moriarty's body "He used to be my friend".

"I know" Mycroft replied and Sherlock managed a weak smile. He went over to Greg and kneeled down beside him.

"He doesn't seem to have any serious injuries – he should wake up soon. I'm going to call an ambulance as soon as we send you back". He looked up. "Where you really going to destroy the Portal?"

"He would have killed us anyway" Mycroft replied, "and I couldn't let him loose in another dimension, whatever it might have been".

Sherlock got up and hugged him; this time, he hugged back without hesitation.

"You know" Sherlock mumbled, "I think I will miss this. A little. Aside from the constant mortal danger, it has been fun".

"Yes, it has been" Mycroft confirmed because, in some weird way, it was true.

Sherlock stepped back and smiled.

"You'll need to tell them – "

"It's alright, My, I know" and Mycroft admitted to himself that he was going to miss the nickname "I'll tell the police I killed Moriarty in self-defence. And I have an Inspector from Scotland Yard to back up my story. In fact..." he trailed off, looking at Greg.

Mycroft waited until Sherlock's gaze return to him. "In fact" he continued, "I think he needs a friend. And a little help now and then. On a free-lance basis, of course".

"Of course" Mycroft answered; he couldn't help the smile that spread over his face.

"When your brother returns, you'll have some explaining to do".

Sherlock shook his head. "I'm really looking forward to that."

They laughed together one last time, because they were alive, and they had won, and Mycroft could return home; then he stepped to the Portal and put his hand on the panel.

"Goodbye, Sherlock".

"Goodbye, My".

With a last smile, Mycroft closed his eyes and concentrated on the memory of that day long ago, when he had left Sherlock behind. Just as he remembered how he'd told himself not to turn around –

He felt again that he was unable to draw his hand away, and blackness swept over him.

Author's note: Like I said, I think the next chapter is going to be the last.

I hope you liked it, please review.