Face the Odds

Chapter 35: Fourth Test

There was dead silence for a moment. Mycroft stared at Sherlock for a few seconds, and as Sherlock remained unmoving and simply staring back at him, Mycroft ordered more firmly: "Shoot him."

"What?" John demanded, stepping closer to Mycroft incredulously. He had to be joking... right?

Mycroft barely spared him a glance before he turned back to Sherlock as he stated: "Shoot Dr. Watson. There's no question who has to continue from here. It's us; you and me."

Sherlock's head cocked just slightly, while Mycroft went on coldly: "Whatever lies ahead requires brainpower, Sherlock, not sentiment. I would have thought the last round made that very clear. Now, don't prolong his agony; shoot him."

"Do I get a say in this?" John interjected, his voice quiet but pointed as he stared at Mycroft.

The eldest Holmes turned to face John properly as he pointed out: "Today, we are soldiers. Soldiers die for their country."

Mycroft gave John a level look while Sherlock continued to watch him silently with narrowed eyes, and Mycroft finished blandly: "I regret, Dr. Watson, that privilege is now yours."

John's eyes were dark and his jaw locked, and he muttered: "Shit."

However, exhaling sharply, John turned to face Sherlock as he murmured: "He's right."

Sherlock turned his gaze on John, his expression unreadable, while John repeated more firmly: "He is, in fact, right."

"No, he's not." Sherlock sighed, moving at last as he closed his eyes, and Mycroft snapped sharply: "Oh, God! I should have expected this."

He slid one hand into his trouser pocket as he snarled viciously: "Pathetic. You always were the slow one, the idiot."

Sherlock opened his eyes, raising a brow slightly, though he didn't quite meet Mycroft's eyes as the elder brother spat: "That's why I've always despised you. You shame us all. You shame the family name. Now, for once in your life, do the right thing."

"Stop." Sherlock said quietly, but Mycroft just nodded at John as he ordered coldly: "Put this stupid little man out of all our misery."

John bit his lip to keep his emotions in check, though he was unable to look at Sherlock as he braced himself while Mycroft continued darkly: "You have your children to think of, don't you? You need to make it back home, and you think you'll get out of here with him? What is he, really?"

John grimaced as Mycroft spat: "Nothing more than a distraction; a little scrap of ordinariness for you to impress. He cost you Marie; are you going to let him cost you your life and leave your children without parents?"

"Please," Sherlock said quietly in a tired and pained voice, "for God's sake, just stop it."

"Why?" Mycroft challenged, and Sherlock finally met his brother's eyes as he answered quietly: "Because, on balance, even your Lady Bracknell was more convincing."

Mycroft blinked, raising his brows in some measured surprise even as his face lost all of its coldness to be filled with disappointment. Sherlock meanwhile turned towards John, though his gaze was lowered as he informed the blond man: "Ignore everything he just said; he's being kind. He's trying to make it easy for me to kill him."

John's head turned to look at Mycroft in shock, while Mycroft just sighed before he smiled ruefully at his brother.

"Well?" Mycroft asked, this time his tone soft, and Sherlock answered grimly: "It just made this so much harder."

With that, Sherlock turned to face his brother once more as he raised the pistol in his hand and pointed it right at Mycroft.

Eurus sat up in her chair, watching avidly, while Mycroft commented offhandedly: "You said you liked my Lady Bracknell."