Mycroft and Moriarty texts
Title: Mycroft and Moriarty Texts
Rating: PG
Pairings: None
Word count: ~1,500
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I definitely do not own BBC Sherlock, or anything that this may be based on.
Summary: Mycroft is pleasantly surprised and perhaps, a bit flattered when Moriarty firsts texts him. Everything goes downhill from there.
From kinkmeme prompt: Mycroft and Moriarty texts
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It all starts with a few harmless texts. Moriarty knows that Mycroft is Sherlock’s brother, and can’t help but send things such as:
How are Sherlock and his pet doing? Is Big Brother still watching over them? -JM
You have the feeds from the cameras. Check yourself - MH
Oh, you’re actually giving me permission? -JM
No. -MH
Awww, you’re no fun! -JM
At that point, Mycroft normally cuts off, no longer willing to text an insane, genius, consulting criminal anymore. Minor government official he may be, it is still hardly proper for him to be consorting with a criminal such as Moriarty, who is also threatening Sherlock and John. (Though, really, he is the British government, so he should be able to do whatever he wants. It is simply for appearances when he states he is a minor official, and Moriarty knows it.)
He expects that those texts are the last of his faint correspondence with Moriarty, but they aren’t. A few days later, he gets a body, boxed up, of course, in the mail, carefully labeled in feminine font-
To: Mycroft Holmes
Hope you like this little present~ This man gave me rather little trouble, yet, why does the government take so long to find a rat such as him?
-JM
Mycroft rolls his eyes at the disappointed tone that he can hear emanating from the words, and simply orders one of his teams to come pick the terrorist up and deposit him into prison. It isn’t as if he’d turn down a gift that was a looked for criminal, and was doing Britain some good. He is most definitely not feeling a sense of warmness flowing through his body at getting a gift of a living body from a man who definitely likes blowing people and things up. Instead, he sends a few texts, thanking Moriarty.
Received your “gift”. Grateful for it. -MH
So, you liked it? Thought it’d be to your taste -JM
One of the criminals the government was looking for. Turned him in. -MH
You didn’t keep him as your slave? Pity. -JM
Britain does not have any use of slaves anymore. -MH
But, you are the government, so no one would object! You already have your helpers, which are similar to slaves! -JM
And, of course, Moriarty, being a criminal, doesn’t think of what having a slave would do to his unnoticeable position in the government. If he were to keep the criminal as a slave, that would bring notice to him, something that Mycroft does not wish for, if he is to keep watching over Sherlock. The government never questions when he brings criminals in for prison or trials, and they would hardly do so now. Thus, turning in the “gifted” man is the wisest decision to make.
But, then, the situation seems to get worse. Instead of corresponding by mail or texts, the man starts sending a few of his “minions”, mainly one by the name of Sebastian Moran to deliver random items such as a new prototype of a bomb that was being developed, missing items from people in the British government, and so many other things. Mycroft wonders if this is a ploy to get his name out into the open, outing him as an important part of the British government. But, then he stops, because the gifts and attention is greatly useful, even if Moran is someone discharged from the army, and most definitely dangerous and needs to be captured.
But, Mycroft knows that capturing Moran will immediately stop the “help” that he is receiving, and is slightly reluctant to do so. He discards that thought because there certainly haven’t been any hits that Moran have made in the criminal world that takes any special notice, and he might as well still let a dangerous man out on the streets as long as there is no threat to Britain.
Until, that is, Moriarty himself comes to visit him, dragging behind him an entourage of thugs and a bound and gagged terrorist. It’s a rather good thing that government officials have places where discretion is expected, and no one questions the fact that one of the most insane, vicious criminals of the generation is coming to visit him.
His people usher the group in, keeping a suspicious eye on the group of thugs and searching them for weapons, which they find and take, before leaving Moriarty and Mycroft alone in one of the guest rooms. Thank the gods for his assistant, whose name is Jane today, who brings out tea, and then exits, no doubt to watch the camera feeds.
The two sit there in silence, each waiting for the other to speak first. Moriarty has the insane, wide smile that he almost always has, and Mycroft just looks, analyzing, observing the other man. He can be as patient as he wants to, if only to find out why this criminal has been helping him so much.
“Stunned to see me, Mycroft?” comes the lilting words of Moriarty as the silence is finally broken. Mycroft mentally tallies that as one point in his favor. The other man seems to have no patience, and if waiting for someone to speak, will instead start the conversation. How dull and ordinary.
“Of course not. I was informed that you were arriving,” stated Mycroft demurely, his look anything but. “What brings you to my abode?”
He watches as Moriarty’s smile widens even further, giving the man an unhinged look on his face. The answer of “I was simply bored, and why not visit the darling government official?” was most certainly expected of Moriarty. He refuses to acknowledge the little spark of amusement that he receives from that statement, because he most definitely is not happy about having a consulting criminal who’s been trying to kill his little brother in his house.
“Surely you don’t have anything else to do, such as playing with Sherlock?” he murmurs, feeling something at the thought of Sherlock and Moriarty playing their little game before that feeling quickly disappears. “Though, I do ask that you treat this game with a little less… enthusiasm such as holding Dr. Watson hostage. Sherlock was most upset by that.”
“Nope!” exclaimed Moriarty, popping his P crisply. “Where would the fun be if I were to lessen the value of the hostage? Sherlock needs something to be motivated when he thinks. I could hardly use dear little Molly Hooper, after all! It’s rather obvious that Sherlock loathes that poor girl.”
Ah. Moriarty really seems to know nothing about relationships. Anyone who could see would notice the little affections that Sherlock would give. As a friend, of course. Such as receiving coffee from the lady, not insulting her as he does with Anderson and in general, tolerating her presence. Mycroft feels a bit disappointed at the revelation, but then quickly wipes that away, too. He tends to mess around with the international agreements when slightly upset. It wouldn’t be a good thing if Britain got in another war because of unnecessary emotions.
“Well, do use something else important. Surely you wouldn’t want to be as dull to use the same hostage again?” Mycroft says in an attempt to dissuade Moriarty from taking Dr. Watson again. While the good doctor indeed did make the best hostage, it just meant that he would have to soothe Sherlock’s frazzled emotions immediately afterwards, which was especially tiring for him. Especially since his brother absolutely refused any help that he tried giving.
He watches as Moriarty sits there, with his, no doubt, great mind, running through all the motions that he had already gone through. Pity that Moriarty seems to think of the whole picture, but doesn’t see what every little consequence or outcome will be, like he does. While Moriarty may look at everything based on a, let’s say, country level, Mycroft looks at it from a world-wide view.
“Why not? I’d hate to be so utterly predictable such as Johnny-boy and finding someone new would be delightful for me to play with!” Moriarty looks gleeful as if he’s just realized whom he should take next in the next game that he and Sherlock will definitely play.
Mycroft cringes as he hears Dr. Watson's nickname. He sighs, realizing that once Moriarty has gotten something inside his head, it's stuck inside, and stands. “Well, I do suppose our little “chat” is over. Being a minor government official doesn’t mean that I can always take time off to deal with consulting criminals.”
“Oh, please. As if you’ve ever met any other consulting criminal before.” Moriarty gets up, stretching lazily, like a cat who has just finished sunbathing. “Well, ta. A consulting criminal does need to get his job done, no? I expect to see you again, very soon, Mycroft.”
Mycroft really shouldn’t be letting someone so dangerous waltz out of his home, but he does. And with a little regret that they won’t be having a nice, engaging talk sometime soon. Today was hardly satisfying, just barely scratching the surface. But, he does need to do one thing.
“Jane? I believe we need to move to a new safehouse. This one has been… compromised.”