The boys upstairs

War

Cold was quickly becoming more of a problem than your growing sense of doom surrounding your mission. Still, it kept your mind off the intrusive memories that stuck to landmarks you had passed in the opposite direction the day you ran.

Unaware of last nights conversation, John attempts to comfort you to no avail. You are walking headfirst and unarmed into a place you never wanted to see again. Together, you and Jim had spent the last few years in a victorian Manor House overlooking the cliffs of Dover. It was one of the few beauties you experienced while there and when you finally spot them it is almost with relief that you sigh. As ever they stand, and as ever there is the house. Although you could barely call it that, and certainly not a home.

It was early evening by the time the taxi dropped you in the village and another hour or two of hiking before the house came into view again.

You knew the location of Jim's office and private quarters, facing the South across the drive. That is where the detectives plan on breaking in, a plan you know to be infinitely flawed. Still, security is a little more lax in the evenings and with some luck there will be a five minute opening in which the guard changes for you to sneak in. The plan lacks... flair you feel, but when you finally approach, you find you were accurate in your predictions. Silently, the three of you are able to slip inside the drawing room and rest with your backs against the door, breathing shallowly. Sherlock cocks his weapon and you bite your lip. They had not allowed you a weapon of your own and you were trying not to take it personally.

At the very least you were going to need some insurance.

They undoubtedly knew you weren't planning on staying here, but perhaps you had failed to mention that you would die first.

John indicates a passageway and you shake your head, the layout of the building you were so rarely allowed to explore appeared clearly in your unchallenged memory.

You point to the left instead and he shrugs, following you as you shuffle at a light jog. Moonlight trickles in through the windows and you worry about alarms, but none sound. Jim is cocky and has relied on disorientation and intimidation, but your map and nerve is good as ever. Three flights of stairs later and you are on the right floor, creeping along the corridor with your heartbeat louder than your steps.

You swallow and Sherlock places a hand on your shoulder. You jump but he holds a finger to his lips, raising his eyebrows at a door at the end. He nods suggestively and you confirm, letting him take the lead as you fall back to step in time with John.

A single security personnel stands at the door and you panic internally, but in one swift movement Sherlock has disarmed and rendered the man unconscious. You don't have time to see before Sherlock is twisting the handle and entering the room. You follow and blink in the sudden light, stomach dropping as you stare into the face of your brother. He frowns and flicks one leg over the other, looking at his watch in disappointment.

"Sixteen minutes and twelve seconds. That... is a bit shit isn't it?" He says and you swallow.

He tilts his head and offers a sarcastic wave. "Hello sister dear, thank god your babysitters returned tou, I was getting worried" he says, pouting as you feel panic well up within you.

You can't help it, you turn to run but upon yanking at the handle find it is locked. Breathing heavily, John steadies you as Jim spins circles on his office chair, entirely unbothered.

Sherlock looks between you two siblings with distaste, eventually sitting lightly on the leather sofa with John. You stay standing.

"Sit" hisses Jim and you look at your feet, sinking to the floor and crossing your legs as though you had never forgotten. He stands and crosses over from the desk, leaning against it and crossing his arms.

"If you wanted to see me you could have made an appointment- I'm free next Tuesday at four pm" he says conversationally and Sherlock shrugs.

"Dentist"

"Ah... fillings?"

"No just a general whitening"

You spend the interaction rubbing your fingers in the carpet. What a stupid stupid idea it had been to return. Sure he had threatened you, but you didn't have to give into him that easily- you could have fought, could have disobeyed and watched as he destroyed everyone within his path to get to you... He didn't like it when his toys got taken away.

You shiver and he notices, looking at you sympathetically before kneeling in front of you and running a hand to cup the side of your head. He takes off his own coat and wraps it around you, leading you to stand which you do wordlessly, eventually poised defeatedly at his side.

"Lovely sister... I've missed you so much" he says sincerely and you shake your head.

"I'm... sorry" you choke and be strokes your face.

"I didn't like it when you left. I was ever so lonely"

You don't dare look up, not at him and certainly not at Sherlock or John. They had gathered the extent of your dysfunctional relationship with your brother but seeing and believing were two very different things. Now that you were back... it was like you had never left.

You could already feel your face and heart shutting down, closing off against the emotional torture that is being in the very presence of Jim Moriarty. You just hoped your new friends didn't hate you too much for it. You had never meant for them to see you like this.

"I won't do it again" You say numbly and he nods.

"I know you won't, you came back because you missed me and because you know you're safest with me" he whispers and you agree. Of course you were, he was never dishonest and he did keep you safe.

"(Y/n)... " says John slowly but you don't turn around.

"No" you reply coolly

"(Y/n)-" tries Sherlock but you cut him off too

"I think it's best you leave. Thank you for returning me to my brother" you say quietly and you feel the air shift as they take in what you have become- or reverted to.

"You see" says Jim with a small smile. "She knows what's right, my little sister. She knows what happens to those who cross me. They get burned Mr Holmes, Dr Watson. They don't get to win" he says, and you sense his anger. It sparks something within you and you jerk away, eyes flickering madly as you stare desperately between your choices.

"I get bored. FUCKING BORED" he screams suddenly and you flinch, ready to duck, panic beginning to envelop you once more. "I always win, the little battles between little people perhaps not, but the war-" suddenly the room is filled with men aiming silver sticks at you three. There is the sound of condensed air and a sharp pain in your neck before you start to feel sick and dizzy, stumbling into a table to remain upright.

The boys have not been so lucky, having hit the floor immediately and now attempting to shake off their fatigue but it is no use. You dont register his words as you fall but you hear them, and somehow you still know exactly what he has said.

"- I always win the war"