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Title: Undoing Fate (Part 7/9) -- An Affair Interrupted
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Pairing(s): Mycroft/Jim
Rating: T
Warning: Temporary Character Death
Summary: Mycroft would do anything bring Sherlock back, even if it means rewriting history itself. However, preventing Jim from becoming his arch-enemy is more difficult than it seems.
Notes: Written for this time travel prompt on the kink meme.
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~*~*~*~*~
After reading through several of the articles, Mycroft was able to get a full picture of Jim and Sherlock's combined life of crime. In this timeline, Jim had continued his crime spree after Mycroft had left him, but the messages he'd left at the scenes of his crimes had been targeted at Sherlock. They'd matched up with the crimes Mycroft had put in place so well that the police currently considered Jim the perpetrator of the whole set.
The messages he'd left weren't angry or desperate. They taunted Sherlock, playfully insulting him and eventually daring him to track Jim down. 'If you can find me, you might be interesting enough to bother with.'
Toward the end of 1999, Jim had begun leaving behind clues suggesting they meet at the museum where Mycroft had committed the first theft, in 1991. Sherlock must have gone, as the first joint crime involving the two of them had occurred not a month later.
Over the next eleven years, they'd set their sights higher and higher, choosing targets based the supposedly secure measures taken to protect them, as opposed to any apparent desire to actually profit from any of the things they acquired. According to the final article, they'd kept most of it in 'an ordinary building in the middle of Brighton'.
Their deaths were oddly ordinary, compared to what had occurred in previous timelines. Jim and Sherlock had stolen from a long list of powerful entities, including a number of governments, terrorist groups, and organized crime syndicates. One of them had laid a trap in a particular bank, hyping up the new high-tech security being put in a particular vault. In reality, the only 'high-tech' thing about it was the man with a gun hiding inside.
Which of their particular enemies had arranged it was unknown; the bank was currently being investigated, but the police were stated as not being hopeful.
It took Mycroft a little longer than usual to work out the best point in time to return to. His first instinct was to allow another two years to pass, returning to 1997. However, after a bit more thought, he realized that he would be completely obliterating another full two years he knew Sherlock to be relatively happy and healthy, focused on the task of finding the mysterious message-leaving criminal.
In the end, he decided to return to 1999, to intercept Jim before he met Sherlock at the museum.
Mycroft took a day to rest, then returned to London.
Mycroft made the trip backward in the museum itself. He arrived in 1999 just before the museum opened, appearing in a stall in the men's room. The meeting time stated in the coded message was noon, but Mycroft knew both Sherlock and Jim well enough to know that both of them would be loitering around the museum well before then. Sherlock would be trying to deduce which of the people around him might be the person he was to meet, while Jim would be watching Sherlock discreetly from a distance, either from a good vantage point or by way of the security cameras.
Mindful of the importance of not being seen by Sherlock, Mycroft decided to test the security camera possibility first. He left the men's room and stood in the hallway outside, putting himself directly in the path of the nearest camera. Then he waited.
Jim came strolling up to him roughly five minutes later, smiling like he hadn't a care in the world. He was dressed like an overeager tourist. He snapped a photo with his camera before Mycroft could do anything to stop him. “Hi!” he said brightly, talking around the large piece of gum in his mouth. He was his full adult height, now, and he looked almost the same as he would ten years later.
“Hello,” Mycroft replied.
“Are you here to see me or to see Sherlock?” Jim asked. “Or is it to see both of us together?”
“I'm here to see you,” Mycroft answered. “I would prefer it if Sherlock didn't see me.”
Jim pressed a button on his camera, smiling down at the screen. “I suppose I shouldn't show him this picture, then.”
“I don't suppose there's any way I could convince you not to talk to him at all,” Mycroft said. When a small smirk appeared on Jim's face, he added: “By which I mean any appropriate way, of course.”
Jim rolled his eyes. “You're no fun.” He turned the camera off, then let it hang from the strap around his neck. “You told me to find someone else,” he said, crossing his arms. “He's the only interesting person I've found. He's more intelligent than you let on.”
“I know that.”
“Then why can't I meet him?” Jim asked, eyes glinting with anger. “You don't think I'm good enough for your precious Sherlock?”
Mycroft sighed. “I'm trying to keep you both out of trouble,” he replied. “I don't want the two of you going on an inter-continental crime spree.”
“So you're okay with the inter-continental crime spree, as long as I do it alone,” Jim said irritably. “But you want me to find someone, so that I won't be alone. Make up your mind already.”
Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don't want you committing criminal acts, either,” he replied. “You have a good future ahead of you. You're already pursuing graduate studies in physics, yes?”
“Yes,” Jim replied. “Not that it's especially difficult.”
“I'm sure you'll find a challenge eventually.”
“So... you'd have no problem with me meeting Sherlock, as long as I don't turn him into a criminal.”
“...Yes.” It wasn't ideal, but it would do.
Jim looked at him intently. “I don't see why I should agree to this.”
Mycroft took his hand and squeezed it. “Because I care about you,” he replied.
Jim sighed happily, then pulled Mycroft into a hug. Mycroft returned it awkwardly, not wanting to reject him, but not wanting an unfortunate repeat of their last hug, either.
Jim broke the hug after only a few moments. “And I care about you, too!” he said, with almost exaggerated warmth. He smirked at Mycroft. “...but that's not a good enough reason.”
Mycroft stared at Jim, slowly realizing how much his influence had lessened. “Why not?”
“Well, you only seem to appear when I'm on the verge of doing something you don't approve of,” Jim replied. “Or when Sherlock is. If I ever want to see you again, then logically, I should do anything but become an ordinary, law-abiding citizen.”
Mycroft had to admit the boy – no, the young man – had a point. He frowned. “If I promise to come back in two years, no matter the circumstances, then will you agree?”
Jim immediately perked up. “In one year. I want you to come back at least once a year.”
Mycroft hesitated, but he couldn't see any reason against it. It wasn't as though he lacked the time. “Agreed.”
Jim's eyes widened, a stupid grin covering his entire face. “You're-- you're really agreeing,” he blurted out. He hugged Mycroft again, then did a little dance. “I'll hold you to it.”
Mycroft didn't bother to question how.
“I still want to meet him,” Jim continued, “but I won't recruit him. You can watch, if you like.”
“I wouldn't want to risk being seen.”
“Not a problem,” Jim replied. He took Mycroft's hand and pulled him toward the maintenance room.
Inside were a number of small monitors hooked up to a computer, quite advanced by the standards of 1999. There was a pair of headphones hooked up to the computer, which was in turn connected to a series wires attached to the wall. Three of the monitors showed various locations in the museum on a rotation, while the fourth was fixed on the main exhibit hall.
Jim had almost certainly set it all up himself.
23-year-old Sherlock was already visible in the exhibit hall, sitting on a bench watching the crowd. Mycroft smiled when he caught sight of him alive and well – and hopefully likely to stay that way this time around.
“I have a microphone set up in one of the displays to record the conversation,” Jim said. “But you can use it to listen in.”
“I appreciate it,” Mycroft replied, picking up the headphones.
“Good.” Jim gave him a playful look as he walked out the door. “It's show time.”
Jim entered the main exhibit hall a few minutes later. He walked over to the central display case, which currently housed several ancient Greek artifacts. His voice came echoing through the headphones. “I hope you can hear me, Shadow Man.”
Mycroft could, though there was an unfortunate amount of ambient noise in the background.
Jim paced aimlessly back and forth in front of the exhibit. He took a few pictures, then looked at the plaque.
He then repeated the whole thing over again, in exactly the pattern as he had the first time.
Mycroft saw Sherlock immediately focus in on Jim. He watched Jim take the same photos, read the same plaque, walk in the same pattern. When Jim started to repeat it the whole thing a third time, Sherlock got to his feet and walked over, a smug smile on his face. He stood right next to Jim.
“A bit obvious, don't you think?”
Jim turned and blinked at him, his face the perfect picture of innocent confusion. “Sorry?”
“You could have varied it a little,” Sherlock pressed on. “Even an idiot would have noticed eventually.”
Jim shook his head. “I really don't know what you're talking about.”
“I know you're here to meet me,” Sherlock said, voice no less confident than before.
Jim let the camera hang from its strap. He leaned against the railing, chewing his gum with his mouth open. He looked Sherlock up and down, grinning. “Bit forward for a pickup line, isn't it?”
Sherlock stiffened. His eyes darted all over the place before finally fixing on Jim's again. “I'm not trying to pick you up, you idiot.”
“I would hope not, with that attitude of yours.”
Sherlock put a hand to his forehead, then dropped it again. “I know you're the one who's been leaving me messages. The one who broke into the museum eight years ago.”
Jim laughed. “When I was eleven years old, you mean?”
Sherlock frowned. “You're only nineteen?”
“Too young for you?”
“No-- Yes-- That's not what this is about!”
“Shame,” Jim replied, openly leering at him.
Sherlock spun towards the exit. “This was a mistake.”
“Of course it was,” Jim replied. “If I were the person you're thinking of, I wouldn't just suddenly confess everything, now, would I?”
Sherlock froze.
“You need evidence if you're going to make that kind of accusation.”
Sherlock turned back around. “I know it's you,” he insisted. “The fact that you met me here is proof enough.”
“For you, perhaps,” Jim said. “But not for anyone else.”
“I didn't intend to tell anyone else,” Sherlock replied.
Jim stopped chewing, pushing the ball of gum around his mouth with his tongue. “Really?” he asked. He held out a hand. “Jim Moriarty.”
Sherlock looked at the hand for a moment, then shook it. “Sherlock Holmes.”
“Yes, I know.”
“You're admitting it, then.”
“I'm admitting that I know you,” Jim replied. He stood up straight. “Unfortunately, I really have to be going now.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and pressed it into Sherlock's hand. “Call me if you figure anything out.” He winked at Sherlock, then walked out of the main exhibit hall.
Sherlock just stared after him.
Sherlock was still standing in the middle of the main exhibit hall when Jim walked into the maintenance room a few minutes later.
Mycroft pulled off the headphones, setting them down on the computer. “Was that your way of asking him for a date?”
“No,” Jim replied. “I don't think he's worth dating.”
Mycroft frowned. “Why not?”
“Because you're coming back,” Jim said, smirking at him.
Mycroft decided not to get into that particular issue again. He didn't think a year's worth of pining would be enough to drive Jim down the path to ruin. “If you aren't interested in a relationship with Sherlock, then why did you bother to go through with meeting him?”
Jim shrugged. “He's been chasing me for years. It'll be interesting to see what he does now that he knows who I am.” Jim unplugged the headphones from the computer, rolling up the cord. “I need to have something interesting in my life when you aren't here. Is that a problem?”
“Not as long as neither of you gets hurt,” Mycroft replied. “Or ends up in prison.”
Jim nodded. “I'll keep that in mind.”
“Well.” Mycroft made for the door. “I'll see you next year.”
“You'd better,” Jim replied.
Mycroft went straight back to the men's room, setting the device for the year 2000.
~*~*~*~*~
<< First Part << Previous Part Next Part >>
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Pairing(s): Mycroft/Jim
Rating: T
Warning: Temporary Character Death
Summary: Mycroft would do anything bring Sherlock back, even if it means rewriting history itself. However, preventing Jim from becoming his arch-enemy is more difficult than it seems.
Notes: Written for this time travel prompt on the kink meme.
<< First Part << Previous Part Next Part >>
~*~*~*~*~
After reading through several of the articles, Mycroft was able to get a full picture of Jim and Sherlock's combined life of crime. In this timeline, Jim had continued his crime spree after Mycroft had left him, but the messages he'd left at the scenes of his crimes had been targeted at Sherlock. They'd matched up with the crimes Mycroft had put in place so well that the police currently considered Jim the perpetrator of the whole set.
The messages he'd left weren't angry or desperate. They taunted Sherlock, playfully insulting him and eventually daring him to track Jim down. 'If you can find me, you might be interesting enough to bother with.'
Toward the end of 1999, Jim had begun leaving behind clues suggesting they meet at the museum where Mycroft had committed the first theft, in 1991. Sherlock must have gone, as the first joint crime involving the two of them had occurred not a month later.
Over the next eleven years, they'd set their sights higher and higher, choosing targets based the supposedly secure measures taken to protect them, as opposed to any apparent desire to actually profit from any of the things they acquired. According to the final article, they'd kept most of it in 'an ordinary building in the middle of Brighton'.
Their deaths were oddly ordinary, compared to what had occurred in previous timelines. Jim and Sherlock had stolen from a long list of powerful entities, including a number of governments, terrorist groups, and organized crime syndicates. One of them had laid a trap in a particular bank, hyping up the new high-tech security being put in a particular vault. In reality, the only 'high-tech' thing about it was the man with a gun hiding inside.
Which of their particular enemies had arranged it was unknown; the bank was currently being investigated, but the police were stated as not being hopeful.
It took Mycroft a little longer than usual to work out the best point in time to return to. His first instinct was to allow another two years to pass, returning to 1997. However, after a bit more thought, he realized that he would be completely obliterating another full two years he knew Sherlock to be relatively happy and healthy, focused on the task of finding the mysterious message-leaving criminal.
In the end, he decided to return to 1999, to intercept Jim before he met Sherlock at the museum.
Mycroft took a day to rest, then returned to London.
Mycroft made the trip backward in the museum itself. He arrived in 1999 just before the museum opened, appearing in a stall in the men's room. The meeting time stated in the coded message was noon, but Mycroft knew both Sherlock and Jim well enough to know that both of them would be loitering around the museum well before then. Sherlock would be trying to deduce which of the people around him might be the person he was to meet, while Jim would be watching Sherlock discreetly from a distance, either from a good vantage point or by way of the security cameras.
Mindful of the importance of not being seen by Sherlock, Mycroft decided to test the security camera possibility first. He left the men's room and stood in the hallway outside, putting himself directly in the path of the nearest camera. Then he waited.
Jim came strolling up to him roughly five minutes later, smiling like he hadn't a care in the world. He was dressed like an overeager tourist. He snapped a photo with his camera before Mycroft could do anything to stop him. “Hi!” he said brightly, talking around the large piece of gum in his mouth. He was his full adult height, now, and he looked almost the same as he would ten years later.
“Hello,” Mycroft replied.
“Are you here to see me or to see Sherlock?” Jim asked. “Or is it to see both of us together?”
“I'm here to see you,” Mycroft answered. “I would prefer it if Sherlock didn't see me.”
Jim pressed a button on his camera, smiling down at the screen. “I suppose I shouldn't show him this picture, then.”
“I don't suppose there's any way I could convince you not to talk to him at all,” Mycroft said. When a small smirk appeared on Jim's face, he added: “By which I mean any appropriate way, of course.”
Jim rolled his eyes. “You're no fun.” He turned the camera off, then let it hang from the strap around his neck. “You told me to find someone else,” he said, crossing his arms. “He's the only interesting person I've found. He's more intelligent than you let on.”
“I know that.”
“Then why can't I meet him?” Jim asked, eyes glinting with anger. “You don't think I'm good enough for your precious Sherlock?”
Mycroft sighed. “I'm trying to keep you both out of trouble,” he replied. “I don't want the two of you going on an inter-continental crime spree.”
“So you're okay with the inter-continental crime spree, as long as I do it alone,” Jim said irritably. “But you want me to find someone, so that I won't be alone. Make up your mind already.”
Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don't want you committing criminal acts, either,” he replied. “You have a good future ahead of you. You're already pursuing graduate studies in physics, yes?”
“Yes,” Jim replied. “Not that it's especially difficult.”
“I'm sure you'll find a challenge eventually.”
“So... you'd have no problem with me meeting Sherlock, as long as I don't turn him into a criminal.”
“...Yes.” It wasn't ideal, but it would do.
Jim looked at him intently. “I don't see why I should agree to this.”
Mycroft took his hand and squeezed it. “Because I care about you,” he replied.
Jim sighed happily, then pulled Mycroft into a hug. Mycroft returned it awkwardly, not wanting to reject him, but not wanting an unfortunate repeat of their last hug, either.
Jim broke the hug after only a few moments. “And I care about you, too!” he said, with almost exaggerated warmth. He smirked at Mycroft. “...but that's not a good enough reason.”
Mycroft stared at Jim, slowly realizing how much his influence had lessened. “Why not?”
“Well, you only seem to appear when I'm on the verge of doing something you don't approve of,” Jim replied. “Or when Sherlock is. If I ever want to see you again, then logically, I should do anything but become an ordinary, law-abiding citizen.”
Mycroft had to admit the boy – no, the young man – had a point. He frowned. “If I promise to come back in two years, no matter the circumstances, then will you agree?”
Jim immediately perked up. “In one year. I want you to come back at least once a year.”
Mycroft hesitated, but he couldn't see any reason against it. It wasn't as though he lacked the time. “Agreed.”
Jim's eyes widened, a stupid grin covering his entire face. “You're-- you're really agreeing,” he blurted out. He hugged Mycroft again, then did a little dance. “I'll hold you to it.”
Mycroft didn't bother to question how.
“I still want to meet him,” Jim continued, “but I won't recruit him. You can watch, if you like.”
“I wouldn't want to risk being seen.”
“Not a problem,” Jim replied. He took Mycroft's hand and pulled him toward the maintenance room.
Inside were a number of small monitors hooked up to a computer, quite advanced by the standards of 1999. There was a pair of headphones hooked up to the computer, which was in turn connected to a series wires attached to the wall. Three of the monitors showed various locations in the museum on a rotation, while the fourth was fixed on the main exhibit hall.
Jim had almost certainly set it all up himself.
23-year-old Sherlock was already visible in the exhibit hall, sitting on a bench watching the crowd. Mycroft smiled when he caught sight of him alive and well – and hopefully likely to stay that way this time around.
“I have a microphone set up in one of the displays to record the conversation,” Jim said. “But you can use it to listen in.”
“I appreciate it,” Mycroft replied, picking up the headphones.
“Good.” Jim gave him a playful look as he walked out the door. “It's show time.”
Jim entered the main exhibit hall a few minutes later. He walked over to the central display case, which currently housed several ancient Greek artifacts. His voice came echoing through the headphones. “I hope you can hear me, Shadow Man.”
Mycroft could, though there was an unfortunate amount of ambient noise in the background.
Jim paced aimlessly back and forth in front of the exhibit. He took a few pictures, then looked at the plaque.
He then repeated the whole thing over again, in exactly the pattern as he had the first time.
Mycroft saw Sherlock immediately focus in on Jim. He watched Jim take the same photos, read the same plaque, walk in the same pattern. When Jim started to repeat it the whole thing a third time, Sherlock got to his feet and walked over, a smug smile on his face. He stood right next to Jim.
“A bit obvious, don't you think?”
Jim turned and blinked at him, his face the perfect picture of innocent confusion. “Sorry?”
“You could have varied it a little,” Sherlock pressed on. “Even an idiot would have noticed eventually.”
Jim shook his head. “I really don't know what you're talking about.”
“I know you're here to meet me,” Sherlock said, voice no less confident than before.
Jim let the camera hang from its strap. He leaned against the railing, chewing his gum with his mouth open. He looked Sherlock up and down, grinning. “Bit forward for a pickup line, isn't it?”
Sherlock stiffened. His eyes darted all over the place before finally fixing on Jim's again. “I'm not trying to pick you up, you idiot.”
“I would hope not, with that attitude of yours.”
Sherlock put a hand to his forehead, then dropped it again. “I know you're the one who's been leaving me messages. The one who broke into the museum eight years ago.”
Jim laughed. “When I was eleven years old, you mean?”
Sherlock frowned. “You're only nineteen?”
“Too young for you?”
“No-- Yes-- That's not what this is about!”
“Shame,” Jim replied, openly leering at him.
Sherlock spun towards the exit. “This was a mistake.”
“Of course it was,” Jim replied. “If I were the person you're thinking of, I wouldn't just suddenly confess everything, now, would I?”
Sherlock froze.
“You need evidence if you're going to make that kind of accusation.”
Sherlock turned back around. “I know it's you,” he insisted. “The fact that you met me here is proof enough.”
“For you, perhaps,” Jim said. “But not for anyone else.”
“I didn't intend to tell anyone else,” Sherlock replied.
Jim stopped chewing, pushing the ball of gum around his mouth with his tongue. “Really?” he asked. He held out a hand. “Jim Moriarty.”
Sherlock looked at the hand for a moment, then shook it. “Sherlock Holmes.”
“Yes, I know.”
“You're admitting it, then.”
“I'm admitting that I know you,” Jim replied. He stood up straight. “Unfortunately, I really have to be going now.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and pressed it into Sherlock's hand. “Call me if you figure anything out.” He winked at Sherlock, then walked out of the main exhibit hall.
Sherlock just stared after him.
Sherlock was still standing in the middle of the main exhibit hall when Jim walked into the maintenance room a few minutes later.
Mycroft pulled off the headphones, setting them down on the computer. “Was that your way of asking him for a date?”
“No,” Jim replied. “I don't think he's worth dating.”
Mycroft frowned. “Why not?”
“Because you're coming back,” Jim said, smirking at him.
Mycroft decided not to get into that particular issue again. He didn't think a year's worth of pining would be enough to drive Jim down the path to ruin. “If you aren't interested in a relationship with Sherlock, then why did you bother to go through with meeting him?”
Jim shrugged. “He's been chasing me for years. It'll be interesting to see what he does now that he knows who I am.” Jim unplugged the headphones from the computer, rolling up the cord. “I need to have something interesting in my life when you aren't here. Is that a problem?”
“Not as long as neither of you gets hurt,” Mycroft replied. “Or ends up in prison.”
Jim nodded. “I'll keep that in mind.”
“Well.” Mycroft made for the door. “I'll see you next year.”
“You'd better,” Jim replied.
Mycroft went straight back to the men's room, setting the device for the year 2000.
~*~*~*~*~
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