Author's Notes: I'm putting this in the Spooks section on here but technically I think it is a Spooks-James Bond-Sherlock crossover except that doesn't really exist on FFN so I'm putting it in Spooks as that's the main FFN fandom for this story. Its sort of cracked, but I hope in a good way.


"Ruth? Care to explain?"

It didn't look good. Ruth knew that. Correspondence, secret phone calls, hiding things from Harry. They hadn't been together very long and they both had histories with other people. Suffice it to say that they were both a bit insecure about where they stood and Ruth understood that.

"I can explain."

"I hope so," Harry put down the phone between them. "There I was answering your phone thinking I was doing a nice thing for you. May I ask who 'James' is, exactly?"

"He hung up on you?"

"I'd say so," Harry said very quietly.

"We're not having an affair. He's...he's family. I mean, only biologically."

"Only biologically," Harry repeated.

Ruth sighed heavily and sat herself down on the sofa. It was going to take a minute to explain this. "You know that my father and I were very close. Well, that's because he doted on me, since before I can remember. He always wanted to be a father and he couldn't...he couldn't get Mum pregnant. They waited years and nothing ever happened. Eventually Mum went off and had a one night stand with some bloke and got pregnant that way."

Harry's eyebrows shot up.

"Yes, well..." Ruth cleared her throat. She could understand Harry's surprise, her own reaction had been similar when she had heard the tale from her mother the first time as a teenager. "Believe me, it took a bit of getting used to. I never had a clue until Mum spilled the beans in a drunken Christmas Eve confession one year when I was home for the holidays. Turns out the one night stand wasn't so anonymous. She knew exactly who my father was, they weren't together or anything but when I asked about my biological father was, she told me his name and that he was a civil servant."

"A civil servant or a civil servant?"

"I'll get to that," Ruth continued. "I sat on it for a while, all through uni, but when I got to GCHQ I got curious. I suddenly had all this information at my disposal and I very quietly made a few enquiries, looked a few things up. Turned out he'd died years ago in an accident with his wife. They had one son together. His name was James."

"So James is...your brother? You have a brother?"

"Yes."

"And you've met him?"

"Actually we bumped into each other by accident," Ruth said. A laugh burst out of her at how ridiculous it was. "I was sent to MI6 to share some information that they didn't want transmitted electronically. It was to be done the old fashioned way, verbally with a single paper copy. I was shown inside and into a conference room. I was some junior runabout at that point but it was important information. M was there, Mansfield. A number of others, as well. Tanner, I think? A couple of people in uniform and then there was a man in the seat to M's right wearing a tailored suit and staring at me with my very own eyes."

Ruth spent the entire briefing being unnerved by the sharp blue eyes staring straight through her down the table. He would tap his mouth with his finger and stare at her single-mindedly. The eyes of a killer. Eyes like her own. Only once she had divulged all the relevant information and survived a barrage of questions from M herself did the room finally begin to empty. Ruth felt a great weight lift off her shoulders as the feared boss of MI6 stepped out, her court heels clicking on the floor and down the hall.

Ruth sighed and closed her eyes, only to be startled horribly when she opened her eyes to find a looming statue standing too close to her. How on earth he'd gotten across the whole room without making a sound Ruth had no idea.

"Jesus! You scared me half to death."

"Sorry." The man's grin was unrepentant."James Bond."

"Ruth Evershed. Can I help you?"

"I have no idea."

"Right, well, if that's all?" Ruth gathered up her things and turned to exit the room. She wanted to get out of there. Being alone with this man was unnerving her.

"I don't suppose you'd fancy a drink, Miss Evershed?"

"So there we were in the pub an hour later and to be frank I was only going to stay for one drink and then head for the nearest exit but somehow we got to talking about family and he told me he was an orphan, that his parents had died in a climbing accident."

All the colour drained from Harry's face. "Ruth, do you mean to tell me that the notorious 007 of MI6 is your brother?!" Harry exclaimed.

"Half-brother. Biologically. I mean we weren't raised together or anything but he doesn't have any other family and...he just calls from time to time if he's home long enough to sleep, eat and shag his Quartermaster."

"They let women be Quartermasters now? Dare I hope that our sister has dragged herself at last into the nineteenth century?"

"His Quartermaster's a man, Harry. Between you and me James is actually bisexual, but you didn't get it from me."

Harry opened his mouth to protest any statement to the effect that a man with the reputation of James Bond could be anything other than straight when the phone rang again. Ruth sent Harry a 'keep quiet' glare and picked it up to answer.

"Hi James."

"Ruth. Who was that?"

"Harry."

"Really? How is my little sister?"

"I'm fine James, thank you."

"Ask her!" A voice in the background insisted. There was a background hum of an engine coming down the phone.

"Is Q with you?" Ruth asked, knowing already that he was.

"We're going out for dinner at the Savoy." In the car James glanced sideways at Q, who was driving. "My treat."

"Well I hope you both have a nice time."

"I thought you might like to join us," James grinned down the phone.

"Oh, well, that's a lovely thought, James, really..."

"You could invite Harry."

"Well Harry might not want dinner at the Savoy. Harry might have other plans!" Ruth exclaimed.

A few feet away, Harry sat up. Suddenly he seemed to be paying a whole lot more attention. "Dinner at the Savoy?"

Ruth rolled her eyes. The pause on the line was pregnant.

"Tell her we'll see her in an hour," Q shouted from the driver's seat.

"Q says we'll see you in an hour."

"James! You are the worst brother ever! How can I possibly get ready for dinner at the Savoy and down there in an hour? James? James!"

Ruth removed the phone from her ear and stared at it. "Bastard!"

"What are brothers for?" Harry stood up. "I suppose I should probably get my tux on."

"I don't have anything to wear!" Ruth exclaimed.

"Nonsense. You have that beautiful red evening gown you were wearing last night."

"If it hasn't got cum all over it," Ruth muttered. "Did you have to do that while I was still wearing the dress, Harry?"

"Absolutely. You looked delicious, I wanted a taste," Harry leaned down and pecked Ruth's cheek. "The dress is fine, Ruth. Promise."

Ruth narrowed her eyes.

"My silk handkerchief on the other hand..." The rest of the sentence was lost as Harry walked out of the room and up the stairs to the master bedroom.

They pulled up at the Savoy in Harry's Land Rover five minutes late. Ruth was wearing the evening dress with a plunging neckline, heels and a matching clutch bag. It was offset by simple but elegant sparkling jewellery. Beside her, Harry's tailored tuxedo and commanding presence spoke of authority and he got a submissive bow from the attendant when he dropped the keys off for the car.

Harry had heard of 007 of course. He could not have sat in on so many JIC meetings with Olivia Mansfield without being aware of the exploits of one of her most notorious agents. Still, the man himself was surprisingly dashing in person and yet carried the lethal edge of someone who might kill you as soon as look at you. Harry had dispatched more than one person in his career, but he was a careful, clean and calculated killer. This man, Harry suspected, was violent and ruthless and yet the smile that graced his face when he caught sight of Ruth was laced with surprising warmth and at the man's side stood another man of similar height but a shorter, slimmer stature with a mop of dark, unruly hair sitting atop his head.

"James!" Ruth rushed forwards to hug her brother and as strange as it was, for two siblings who had spent most of their lives apart, there did appear to be genuine warmth between them. "God its good to see you. Still collecting scars I see?"

"Don't ask about Guatemala," Q leaned over.

"What about Guatemala?" Ruth asked. Suddenly her voice was laced with concern. The Americas usually spoke of drugs, money and a lot of murder. It wasn't a good place even for an experienced agent to operate.

"Nothing important," James insisted. "You look stunning."

Ruth blushed, "Thank you." In the corner of her eye Harry cleared his throat. "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry. James this is my...this is Harry Pearce. Harry, this is James Bond."

James reached out his hand and Harry shook it. In a single look they appeared to come to an understanding. James would spare him the overbearing brother talk simply because as James measured Harry up, he saw a man who on first impression very much lived up to his reputation as a ruthless bastard who was fiercely protective of those he considered his own.

James and Harry gripped hands tightly. It was a firm handshake. "I know you by reputation, of course," James offered. "I do believe M once called you 'a worthy sparring partner'."

That comment broke this ice, it was high praise from Mansfield. "She must be missed."

"Indeed," James agreed. "And this is..." James turned around to the other man and faltered.

"Fortesque Archibald Theodore Sherrinford Holmes. Acceptable forms of address are limited to Teddy if you're my mother, Archie if you're Mycroft and Q if you're anyone else. James likes to think we're together but really I'm just using him for sex."

Harry was slightly stunned. He had no idea Ruth had such connections. Her brother in law was a Holmes?

Beside Q, James's arm was winding around the younger man's waist. "Q darling?" James leaned in and kissed his ear which was followed by something being whispered too low for either Ruth or Harry to hear. Whatever it was made Q blush and push James away.

"Yes, thank you, James." Q deliberately seemed to feel the need to straighten himself up after James's comment which probably meant that whatever it was was dirty. "Ruth tell him to behave."

"What makes you think he'll listen to me?"

"He's your brother?"

"Never made a blind bit of difference before," Ruth told Q and then stepped forwards to take Q's arm leaving Harry and James to get to know each other. She realised she was probably dropping them in it somewhat, but they were both adults. They would have to learn to deal.

Harry watched the young man who called himself Q walk Ruth over to the bar and developed the sinking feeling that the pair of them probably got along like a house on fire. They were both of them clearly intelligent beyond their years and James had that sort of lurking, protective habit of someone who was happy to...lurk protectively.

"So," Harry fell in at James's side. "I suppose this brings new meaning to the phrase 'Inter-Agency cooperation."

"I suppose," James hummed. "So, who asked who?"

"Excuse me?"

"I've been listening to the ongoing saga of Ruth and Harry for six months now. I kept telling her to just ask you out."

"Did you?" Harry was surprised. "No, I asked her, actually."

"She was worried it would seem inappropriate," James offered his insight. They were getting near the bar now. Getting near Ruth and Q who seemed to be eavesdropping on their conversation.

"That wasn't a problem for you?" Harry asked James.

At that precise moment, Q turned around with a glass of champagne in his hand. "James lives for inappropriate. Our table's ready."


It was the first of many surreal evenings. Occasionally James or Q or sometimes both would turn up at his house, almost always at an inappropriate hour and always with alcohol. So there was that and over time he and Ruth settled down to get married and somehow Q managed to persuade James that he wasn't actually going to drop dead immediately if they put a ring on it and for the most part it was an odd but insignificant aspect of his life. Not until the next general election with a new Prime Minister in Number Ten did Harry find himself facing up against the problem of James's reputation in causing chaos. He was at Downing Street for his first intelligence briefing with the new PM and was greeted the moment he stepped in the door with a monologue about the reign of terror one agent caused in a rural part of Vietnam.

"Can't even figure out what he was doing there in the first place!" The new Prime Minister ranted. "And now I've got the Vietnamese Ambassador on the line demanding explanations and M's bloody gone to ground! Some bastard calling himself 007. Do you know him?"

Harry cleared his throat self-consciously. "Erm...yes, Mister Prime Minister. He's my brother-in-law."