This is one of the only parts I had planned out from the beginning, so I hope you enjoy it!

As a reminder, "Sherlock"=Mayhem=Sherlock from Elementary and "the other Sherlock"=Havoc=Sherlock from BBC's Sherlock

I collapsed onto the couch in our sitting room. Thank heavens I'd ordered something comfortable. It had been a long day.

Sherlock's realization was followed by a flurry of activity as they worked out the rest of Mycroft Holmes' plan. The afternoon and evening had been spent discussing his possible targets, methods, and goals.

There were still a lot of details to be filled in, but they'd worked out a general profile for his attack. Motrubaphin would work best in a luxurious, highly mechanized society, where opportunities for dissemination would be common and the euphoria wouldn't interfere with the basic logistics of daily life. The inhabitants of such planets were frequently drug-users anyway, but Motrubaphin was different from most drugs in two respects: only Mycroft Holmes had the formula, and once people were addicted, going off it was usually deadly.

Motrubaphin altered the chemistry of the user's liver over time. The biggest changes happened after just a few days of use, but slight change continued for well over six months. As long as the person kept taking the drug, they'd never notice the change. But once the supply stopped, their liver would fail.

So Mycroft Holmes was doubtless planning to establish a supply of his drug on a planet (we hadn't worked out how yet - commercial manufacture was possible, but would be immensely complex to start and ramp up, especially on an unfamiliar planet), introduce it to the population and supply it for a few months (probably not for free, which would make them suspicious). Then the demands would start. If they wanted to survive, they'd give in.

It wasn't a plan that would work forever. Sooner or later someone would reverse-engineer the drug, or find a cure for the liver failure. But it would work for long enough to give Mycroft Holmes far more power and wealth than he had ever dreamed of.

I opened my eyes and looked around at the room. One plan found, who knows how many to go. I asked the computer for a blanket and some tea.

Sherlock came in and collapsed on the armchair across from me, blowing out a long breath. I poured tea into a mug and pushed it towards him.

"Do we know what the target is?" I asked.

He leaned forward to pick up the mug and shook his head. "Professor Moriarty is still visiting a wide variety of planets, including several this week that fit the profile for a fit target for Motrubaphin."

"So he hasn't picked yet."

"Indeed. Or, possibly, my father plans to target multiple planets."

"Because conquering only one planet would just be silly," I said, smiling a bit.

Sherlock smiled briefly, but he was still too upset to really respond. "Perhaps. Perhaps he intends to target all of them, in case his plan fails on some planets. Some people can resist addiction."

"Not to mention that they have far better medicine than we do," I pointed out. "I'm sure some of them can replace a damaged liver."

He stared gloomily into space. "Perhaps. But Motrubaphin also affects the immune system, the nervous system...over time I think it probably creates an entirely new being." He rubbed his arm absentmindedly.

"Are you okay?" I asked, after a minute.

His eyes focused on me. "My father is planning on enslaving entire planets of people, allowing many of them to die in the process. On the other hand, I've known he was a bastard for years. I'm rather surprised he didn't try it on me first." He took a sip of tea, and added, "The dying thing, that is. As you know, he's quite fond of controlling me when he can."

I was trying to figure out how to answer that when there was a knock at the door. Sherlock got up and opened the door, to find the other Sherlock waiting in the hallway.

"Havoc," Sherlock said, stepping back to allow him to enter.

"Mayhem," came the reply. The other Sherlock stepped inside and stood, looking slightly awkward.

Neither of them seemed to know what came next. "Would you like some tea, Havoc?" I offered. An extra cup appeared next to the pot on the table.

"Thank you." He took the filled cup from me and sat on the couch.

Sherlock sat also, but I noticed his posture was better now. The other Sherlock was a little taller than him.

"Congratulations on your deductions," offered the other Sherlock. "That was good work today."

Sherlock nodded.

"John says I owe you an apology," said the other Sherlock suddenly, "for questioning your objectivity earlier. I maintain that my concerns were valid, but he says they could have been expressed less offensively. I do not think that a different expression would have given less offense, and furthermore I imagine that the value of an apology for you is largely academic, as it is for me. However, if such a thing has value to you, there it is."

Sherlock stared into space for a minute. "Thank you, Havoc. If I am perfectly honest, your concerns echoed my own. I am pleased to find that I am able to think clearly."

The other Sherlock nodded and took a sip of tea. After a minute he continued, "John also says we should try to be...friends."

Sherlock glanced at me and smiled briefly. "Miss Watson has been so focused on getting me to talk about my feelings regarding my father that she has not yet urged me to socialize. But I suspect she agrees with John in that respect."

The other Sherlock put down his cup and stood. "Then would you like a game of pool before bed? There is a table downstairs."

Sherlock nodded and stood, and they left together.