Author's note: I have rather grown to like about Mycroft and Greg working together.
I hope you enjoy, please review.
It felt surreal, walking down the street with the consulting criminal between himself and the British Government. For the first few blocks, Greg kept his hand on his gun, but when he realized that Moriarty was indeed content to go with them and that nobody was following them, he put it away. He would have thought that Moran wanted to help his employer, but apparently his fear was greater than his affection.
"I assume we're going to your mansion, Mr. Holmes?" Moriarty asked politely.
Mycroft nodded.
"Makes sense" he continued cheerfully. "I think your employees would be surprised if we showed up".
More than that, Greg thought. Moriarty would be arrested or worse, and then they wouldn't be able to use him to help the others.
If he wanted to help them. If Greg had taken anything from the stories he had heard, it was not to underestimate this man. He might still be working with Trevelyan, and not for Trevelyan; and should that be the case, he would gladly do anything to stop them. After all, Mycroft had told him about the paradoxes – Moriarty and Trevelyan being in contact all this time, even though he'd only just been saved; maybe he had been the one to contact the scientist in the first place...
He shook his head; he couldn't allow himself to get confused. If his memories were replaced, he wouldn't be of any use.
From the sly look Moriarty sent his way, he decided the consulting criminal knew, but at the moment didn't wish to do anything about it.
At the moment being the important part.
Greg had never considered what Sherlock would have been like if he had chosen a different side; if he had become a criminal. The consulting detective had been a great man when they had met, and over time had become a good one, and a friend too, so why should he have.
Now he knew what would have happened. What he would have been like. Moriarty's happiness at not being bored, happily going with them even though it was far from safe –
It all reminded him so much of Sherlock that his throat constricted.
Only that Moriarty certainly had never cared so much for another human being to give up three years of his life to keep them safe.
Sherlock had chosen to be human; even when he had insisted to call himself a high-functioning sociopath, he had chosen to be human. He wouldn't have picked John Watson as his flatmate or Greg as his DI or spent money on his homeless network, paying in advance for investigations that might not bring anything, otherwise.
Moriarty had taken the opposite path. He had become a monster, someone who played with people's lives. The only reason Sherlock had outwitted him was that in the end, he had proved too human for the consulting criminal to comprehend.
He wondered if Moriarty saw it the same way, or if he believed Sherlock boring now too.
He forced himself not to look at him. Mycroft, he was sure, kept his eyes straight forward, but he couldn't risk a glance because Moriarty would certainly realize what he was thinking and he wasn't going to give him any more entertainment. He might be forced to work with him, but that didn't mean he had to be more than polite.
A few streets further, they finally took a cab, and thankfully the cab driver didn't remember the man who had proclaimed Sherlock Holmes a fraud.
It was funny. When Sherlock had heard the consulting criminal's name for the first time, he had been sitting in a cab, and now they were driving to Mycroft's mansion with Moriarty, in hopefully the last case he would ever be involved in.
Suddenly, he realized that they were about to commit murder – even though others might be quick to point out that they were simply assisting Moriarty to do what he had wanted to do, and that only if he chose to let them; but for Greg, murder stayed murder, and if in the end someone was dead because of something they had done, it was murder.
Then again, not long ago, he had been ready to shoot him, and he still was, if he tried anything. Maybe he simply didn't like the thought to do what Moriarty wanted.
He looked out of the window and tried to look relaxed. He probably didn't succeed, but he had to try. He wasn't going to allow someone who had caused Sherlock so much pain to mock him.
Mycroft's house was still how he remembered it, and he felt strangely relieved at that. Of course it would be just like always, he chastised himself; why shouldn't it? Moriarty's survival couldn't have changed everything. And yet here he was, ready to cry because a house hadn't changed.
They had to get Sherlock and John back soon.
Mycroft showed them into the living room and told them that he would get Trevelyan's file – obviously to allow the DI to see if Moriarty was lying, the British Government had to know it by heart – and left the room.
Greg had no intention to talk to Moriarty and was prepared to pull out his gun at any suspicious movement, but the consulting criminal surprised him by saying, "I can see it" while happily sitting on the sofa, taking in the room. The DI supposed he had often wanted to enter Mycroft's home, but never been able to. There was every reason to think the elder Holmes had a better security system than Downing Street.
"What?" he asked, more because he felt it necessary than because he wanted to know the answer.
"Why Sherlock puts up with you. I knew, of course, that you were his favourite policeman, and for a short time, before he came along, I actually considered you as the only one who could possibly endanger me, but now I see why."
He didn't ask for the reason; was determined not to ask for the reason. He and Sherlock never talked about their relationship, so he wouldn't do it with his worst enemy.
"You have instinct. Not much in the brain, but instinct. You know. You look at people and you know. That's why Sherlock thinks you useful" Moriarty continued, and Greg had to resist the urge to punch him. He was more than useful. He was a friend; he was Sherlock's friend. Sherlock had told him so himself, when he had admitted why he had faked his death, and Moriarty knew it, since he had threatened Sherlock with the possibility of losing his friends. He was trying to get Greg to lose his temper, to shoot him and therefore not having to help them.
He wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
"Like I said" he added, "I can see why."
Apparently he hadn't believed it would work, but had tried anyway and it told Greg how desperate he was. He must be right; someone like Moriarty wouldn't appreciate being controlled.
The silence was broken by a call from Mycroft.
"Greg?"
He sounded desperate, and scared, and Greg ran as fast out of the room as he always did when Sherlock was in trouble. He could hear Moriarty chuckling, but he didn't care as he quickly moved up the stairs, drawing his gun.
What he found wasn't what he had been expecting.
He didn't pay attention to the other rooms on the floor, the light from the open door making it obvious where Mycroft had gone. He rightly thought that it must be his bedroom.
But it looked different than he would have believed. At least in their reality.
It was full of pictures and maps. The pictures were almost exclusively of Moriarty, with a few of members of his web, especially Moran, in between.
It was obvious what Mycroft had been trying to do.
Would have been trying to do, he reminded himself as he grew dizzy, and his new memories wanted to reassert themselves. He held on to the doorframe and put away his weapon because it was clear that Mycroft wasn't being attacked.
He was standing in the middle of the room, a hand on his forehead, shaking.
Greg carefully moved closer, all the while repeating to himself what he knew. They hadn't considered what Mycroft's house, or rather his bedroom, would look like with Moriarty alive; his relief at finding it unchanged a few minutes ago seemed so laughable.
"What was I looking for?" Mycroft mumbled. "What was I looking for?"
"Trevelyan's file" Greg answered gently. "You remember? We need it so we can get rid of Moriarty – "
"Moriarty?" he demanded, and the DI began to doubt that it had been the best thing to say.
"He's in the living room."
The words slipped out without his permission, a ferocity to them that proved this room had brought changed upon him too, but he was still able to block Mycroft as he tried to rush out the room, intent to do what they would wish they could.
"Mycroft" he said sternly, shaking him by the shoulders, something he would never have thought of doing a few minutes ago, "Remember. He wasn't alive. Trevelyan saved him."
For a moment, Mycroft stood there, staring at him, and he feared he had lost him; but then he shook his head, freed himself, and stated, "Of course. The file".
It wasn't much, but Greg could hear the thankfulness in his voice, and he left to make sure Moriarty was still where he had left him. He would have liked to stay, but he knew Mycroft wouldn't like it, would tell him that he had to remember himself.
Moriarty was indeed still there, waiting for him.
"Did the Ice Man have problems? I thought he wouldn't have. After all, memories are connected to emotions."
"You said he wasn't much of an Ice Man" Greg argued, even as he knew he shouldn't. Moriarty wanted to make him angry, and it wouldn't do anyone any good if he allowed it.
"You really are the glue that holds them together. So wonderfully ordinary and yet useful. John isn't all that normal, I've come to realize; adrenaline junkies, always a force to be reckoned with. But you..."
Greg didn't answer. Mycroft entered the room shortly afterwards, not surprised that Moriarty was sitting on the sofa, and he registered that the British Government had managed to remember. For now, at least. They had to restore things to normal soon. He could feel the memories, the false memories that were right, if only at the moment, at the back of his mind, trying to take a hold.
"Here is Trevelyan's file" he said smoothly, obviously not interested in discussing what had just happened. If he ignored it in the hope of keeping Moriarty ignorant of their weakness, it was in vain; but –
Moriarty didn't feel like a human. But considering his own decisions had been changed –
He had to have some form of emotion when it came to his own fate. And Mycroft would know that. Of course they didn't discuss what had happened with each other; they both knew where the other stood.
Despite Moriarty's comments, Greg would have felt more useless by the second, if he wasn't convinced that he helped Mycroft to remember by his presence.
"I have gone through it again; there isn't much to..."
Mycroft trailed off, and Greg was concerned he had trouble remembering again until he realized he was staring at Moriarty, his brows furrowed.
It took him longer to understand, but he did.
Moriarty looked too happy for someone who didn't know to defeat someone he needed out of the way.
"Anytime you want to tell us what's going on" he began, careful not to lose his temper. It would make it even more difficult to hold on to his memories.
"Haven't you realized yet? Trevelyan is too clever. He would never risk – "
"Being trapped in a parallel universe" Mycroft interrupted him. "There has to be a way to get him back."
He looked at Greg. They were thinking the same.
Whatever could bring Trevelyan back could return Sherlock and John to them too.