Heh, I finally break into the Sherlock fandom, and it's not one of the stories I said months ago I'd do. Oh well. Enjoy!
"You won't do it."
Jim's opponent merely cocked an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Uh-huh. If you do, Sherlock will be whining about it forever."
"If he recovers." The gun was pointed straight at Jim's heart. "Which is still in the 'if' stage. And I have you to thank for that, James."
Jim shrugged, his eyes not leaving the gun. "If you play with fire, you're going to get burned. Sherlock's a smart boy—he knows that as well as anybody else."
The other man's blue eyes hardened. "You were the one playing with fire, James. I warned you to stay away from him."
"We were bound to clash, anyway."
"In which case, I wouldn't have faulted you." A truly frightening smile played on the man's lips. "As it is…"
"You're really going to shoot me."
"Good luck with the fallout." Jim still didn't think he'd do it.
The gun went off.
Jim found himself falling to the floor and staring at the gaping hole in his chest.
"You shouldn't have doubted me, James." That stupid umbrella tapped a tsk-tsk against the warehouse floor. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have my brother to look in on."
Jim Moriarty spat out a curse before his world went dark.
Mycroft Holmes gazed down remorselessly at the dead man. No regrets there. Absolutely none. He pulled out his mobile and texted Anthea. Hospital. Now.
A week later, he was standing in the same spot—cleaned-up now—with his brother in a wheelchair beside him.
"You really did it."
Mycroft almost sighed—for all his genius, Sherlock could truly be dense sometimes. "Because you're my brother," he said simply.
"Don't worry, I don't expect you to reciprocate," Mycroft said wryly.
Sherlock nodded absently. "What now?"
Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "Now? Now, you get out of that wheelchair and get back to normal. It's rather disconcerting seeing you bandaged up like a mummy because of all the burns."
"Yes, well, an exploding building will do that to you."
Mycroft smirked. "Indeed."
"…Am I allowed to tell John?"
He did sigh this time. "Sherlock, I did for you what you would have done for John. Tell me that makes sense to you."
Sherlock was quiet for half a minute. "It does," he murmured at last.
Mycroft smiled slightly but genuinely. "Good."
The original version was better. The original version was more epic. The original version had dangerous!Anthea. The original version was lost in my head. The original version may still appear someday on-site.
Where did this come from? I'm not sure. All I know is that, for all his faults, Mycroft is still protective of his little brother. No matter what Sherlock could say or do, Mycroft would still stubbornly love and care for him. That's just the way good big brothers (and big sisters, in my case) are. And let me tell you, anybody who messes with my sibs is dead. Plain and simple. I imagine Mycroft feels pretty much the same way.
Oh, and yes, I realize this AUs Season 2, with Reichenbach. So this is an AU ending to TGG: while Sherlock and John are in the hospital, recovering from shooting the bomb, Mycroft takes care of business. Maybe now, Sherlock will finally get that his brother cares very deeply about him.
Also, so far, I have not caught any Mycroft-Jim fics. You'd think there would be something out there about the titans clashing—British Government versus Criminal Empire…
One more thing: the title. Cookies to anybody who gets it. "But Jupiter is descending to-day. What on earth can it mean?" —Sherlock Holmes, "The Adventure of the Bruce-Partington Plans"