A/N: Here's a new story! It's an idea that just keeps following me around! Enjoy - and please review.

There was a bang as the door to the rooftop opened. Both Sherlock and Moriarty looked over to the doorway, surprised by the interruption.

"Ice Man." Jim hissed, his voice cold and snake-like.

"Moriarty." Mycroft replied, stepping out onto the roof. He walked casually across the rooftop, swinging his umbrella a little.

"Mycroft? What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked, scanning his brother for clues.

"Step aside, little brother." Mycroft said, not answering Sherlock's questions.

"Big brother is here to save you!" Jim laughed darkly, "Come and play Ice Man."

"What are you doing, Mycroft?" Sherlock demanded.

"I'm meddling, dear brother." Mycroft replied, glancing at Sherlock before he moved closer to Moriarty.

"Sherlock needs to jump or I'll kill his little friends." Jim hissed.

"No. You won't. There's a way to call it off. There always is." Mycroft replied coolly.

"Not this time, Ice Man!" Jim laughed before he shot himself in the head.

Mycroft stepped back with a sigh, "Give me your coat." he said to Sherlock.

"What? No. I'm jumping. We had a plan, Mycroft!" Sherlock protested.

"The plan is flawed. It is predictable." Mycroft replied, "Give me your coat. They need to see you jump, but they'll be looking from a distance."

"Are you completely mad? This won't change anything! I'll still have to chase Moriarty's network. London needs you more than it needs me, Mycroft." Sherlock said.

"I think it's time for me to do some legwork, brother." Mycroft chuckled a little, slipping off his own coat, "Give me your coat."

Sherlock sighed and slipped out of his beloved Belstaff before he handed it over to his brother. He frowned as he took his brother's coat in return. It was plain and formal, without the dramatic flair of his own coat.

"What about your work? How will Her Majesty cope without you?" Sherlock asked, moving to adjust the collar of the Belstaff on his brother.

"She will manage. Anthea will keep things on track on my behalf." Mycroft replied, handing over his umbrella and walking to the edge of the rooftop.

"John will be down there about now." Sherlock said, staying back so he wasn't visible.

"Yes. He's going to have a terrible shock, isn't he? Until he realizes that it's me who's dead and not you." Mycroft replied.

"You're not cut out for legwork." Sherlock muttered.

"Take care of yourself, little brother." Mycroft said before he stepped off the edge of the roof.

Sherlock stayed on the roof for a few moments, listening to the commotion down on the street below. It was John's desperate shout of "Sherlock!" that hurt the most. He turned away from the edge and began the long walk back to street level.

"Oh Jesus." John muttered from where he was sat in Molly's office.

"It's okay, John. It wasn't Sherlock." Molly tried to reassure.

"It was Mycroft, Molly. God. I'm going to have to tell Sherlock." John sighed. He visibly jumped as Sherlock entered the office.

"John." Sherlock said.

"Sherlock, it's Mycroft. I thought it was you, he was wearing your coat. Jesus, Sherlock. What the hell is going on? You're wearing his coat and he's dead. I saw him fall. Why, Sherlock?" John said, suddenly becoming frustrated.

"I can't explain Mycroft's actions, John." Sherlock replied, "He has a stressful job and he's always suffered with his intelligence."

"Why are you wearing his coat?" John demanded.

"Mycroft is...was...insufferable. He demanded my coat before he jumped off the roof. Very odd." Sherlock replied with a shake of his head, "He gave me this." he added, holding up the umbrella.

"It looks sort of plain without Mycroft." John admitted, looking at the umbrella.

"Yes, well, that was my brother. Plain. Boring. Formal." Sherlock said with a frown, "Come on, John. Let's go home."

"You're handling this very well." John commented as he got to his feet.

"Yes. I hope he's happier wherever he is." Sherlock replied, leading the way out of the morgue.