A/N: This is the second and final part of Acting Out. I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know how you liked it!

The doctor and his newest "patient" continued arguing in rather loud tones. Sherlock began apologizing to his client. "Sorry about that, I'm afraid my brother is rather-"

He was cut off by John marching into the room, dragging a rather petulant Mycroft with him. "Sherlock, you need to contact your mother. I suspect Mike hasn't taken his meds today." The doctor's was frowning in concern.

"I don't need medication!" the newly christened "Mike" said, in a rather loud voice. "I have many important things to do, and you are distracting me!"

"Mike," John said in his best doctor voice, gentle but firm. "We've spoken about this. You need to follow the rules if you want to stay here."

"Shut up, I have a very important phone call to make. I need to contact the Prime Minister regarding the nuclear crisis. If you bother me now, we'll all go up in smoke, and that will be all your fault!"Mycroft removed his phone from his pocket and began speaking into it, without dialing before.

"It's me, Madam Prime Minister. How many times do I need to warn you about the nuclear bomb hidden at 10 Downing? You need to dismantle it right away!"

"Mikey, you're phone is turned off. You aren't speaking to anyone right now," Sherlock said patiently. "This isn't real."

"Of course it's real!" Mike exclaimed indignantly. "I need to save our country. I am the British Government!" Mycroft said sternly.

Singleton was watching the exchange with rapt attention. Sherlock glanced at his brother and gave a minute wave of his hand towards the client's briefcase. Mycroft blinked in return.

"Come on, Mike, you know that's impossible. One man can't be a government by himself," John chided.

Mycroft gave him a blank stare, and then turned to regard the client, leaning both hands on his umbrella. Singleton stared back at him, and for several moments there was a stalemate. Suddenly, he picked up his brolly and jabbed the tip into the other man's chest.

"He's the one!" He yelled. "He's the communist spy! He planted the bomb, and now he's spying on us!"

Mycroft punctuated his words with several more vicious jabs. Singleton attempted to retreat but his opponent came after him until he was backed up against the wall. John rushed over and attempted to remove the umbrella from his hand.

"Leave my sword alone, you traitor!" the umbrella wielding man hissed. "I will stab this neo-Nazi, communist, Taliban spy like the scum he is!"

John continued tugging at his arm. "Don't do this, Mike. Look, it's just an umbrella. You're having delusions again."

"I knew it! You are conspiring with him!" Mycroft was practically foaming at the mouth. Despite himself, John had to supress a shiver. The criminal mastermind was much worse off. He cowered at the wall, pale and shaking, while trying to dodge the umbrella tip.

"I will shoot you both with this gun!" Mycroft still held fast to his weapon. Fortunately for Singleton, Sherlock suddenly appeared at Mycroft's other side and helped the doctor subdue the seemingly mad man.

"Could have used some help before," John chided his friend.

"Mike, you need to come with us to your room. John will give you something to calm you down."

"I don't want to!" Mycroft protested, grunting as he struggled.

"If you don't come with me right now I'm calling Mummy," Sherlock threatened.

Mycroft seemed to deflate and let himself be led away. The trio went into Sherlock's bedroom, and a moment later Sherlock came back out.

"I'm really sorry about that," Sherlock told Singleton, sounding distressed. "My brother usually doesn't act up in this way."

Singleton took several deep breaths before he replied. "I'll let it slide this time, but you won't be so lucky if it ever happens again. You owe me," He said gruffly.

"I appreciate that," Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief. "No worries, I'm making your case top priority."

"You should," the man replied, a hint of menace in his voice.

"Oh, one more thing. You understand that my brother's... condition, is a delicate matter. My parents have invested a lot of effort into keeping the matter private. You understand, at most times, his behavior is perfectly normal. I would appreciate your discretion."

"Of course, Mr. Holmes," the criminal answered, his eyes gleaming as he took his leave.

John and Mycroft emerged from the bedroom, and for a moment, the three just looked at one another. Predictably, the doctor and the detective ended the silence first, by breaking down into hysterical laughter.

The British Government watched them, wearing that kind of smile that would have warned his brother, if he had been watching, that things were "a bit not good." Mycroft waited patiently until the duo had subsided, and then turned to his brother.

"You know, brother mine," he remarked casually. "I had hoped that an army doctor would have had a good influence on you. Turns out that you corrupted him instead."

"Now, now, Mike, why don't you calm down," Sherlock said with exaggerated concern. "Have you taken your medication today?" This set the two flatmates off into another round of hilarity.

"Show me what you got," Mycroft demanded impatiently.

"Wait... wait," the doctor gasped for breath. "Would anyone like to inform me of what's going on around here?"

The consulting detective explained his suspicions and the plan he came up with.

"And what exactly was the purpose of that tantrum you threw?" John inquired of the older Holmes.

The look on Mycroft's face was priceless. John wished he could have recorded it for posterity.

"I didnt do anything of that kind. My little brother needed a distraction, and I merely ensured he got one. What did you manage to get, Sherlock?"

"I've found some interesting clues on his laptop. Take a look."

Mycroft complied, and perused the information Sherlock had written down. "Hmm, David Singleton. He's been barely a blip on our radar, but I see he's branching out." He absently rubbed his hands together. "Russian mafia connections... laundering money for terrorist operations... we will need to keep a close eye on that one."

"You can do better than that. You can bring him down," Sherlock told him smugly. "With my help, of course.

"Singleton has an employee that has absconded with sensitive information. If we can track him down and offer him a deal, he'll give us the info. Combined with the intel I acquired now, we should be able to put him away. Singleton is the type to rat out others in order to save his own sorry skin, so we might get several more for the price of one." Sherlock grinned happily.

"How do we get to him now?" John wondered.

"Easy. I lure him back with the promise of new information."

"Does he trust you?" Mycroft asked.

"He thinks he has blackmail material on me," Sherlock grinned even wider. "Namely, my brother's secret condition."

"You owe me, brother. Seventy-five squared."

Sherlock paled a bit. "No, no, that's too high. I did it for your sake, brother mine! I saved your life!" he exclaimed, in full drama mode.

"No need for drama. Alright, three to the power of seven."

John would never in a million years understand the Holmesian system of keeping score of favors, but he saw Sherlock looking relieved, so he assumed the brothers had settled on reasonable terms.

"I'll have Anthea plant my altered records somewhere where Singleton can find it, to authenticate your claims. I'll also have my agents deal with his minions when he arrives. Oh, and Mike will be waiting right here, assisting you in taking him down." Mycroft grinned in amusement.

"You enjoyed it!" Sherlock exclaimed accusingly.

"Well, it did remind me of my Lady Bracknell days. I've missed the stage. Besides, did you see the look on his face?"

John and Sherlock broke into laughter again, and this time, to their surprise, the older Holmes only smirked.

When, several days later, David Singleton was arrested, and began babbling at the interviewing detective about a man with an umbrella that was really a sword, that was also a gun, who was really the British Government, and took him down together with a consulting detective and ex-army doctor, the detective, DI Lestrade, raised his eyebrows in the direction of Mycroft, who was standing in the back of the room. Mycroft merely shrugged his shoulders and remarked, "The shock of his arrest must have caused him to have some delusions."