This is my first attempt at writing in English. I hope you will like it.

Disclaimer : I don't own the Sherlock and Bond's universes.

This job is as good as expected. I just need someone to speak with a bit more entertaining than the other technicians in here. I'm only thirty-three years old and here I am, at the head of the Q branch. It was hard and now I can finally start to see how this occupation is changing me. Loneliness starts to hurt even for someone like me who don't usually mind about it. No attachment, no friendship seems possible in this place. We are just here to work and never talk about what we're going through. It's always a silent approbation, whatever you do, you do it and it has to prove its usefulness. I'm learning to never congratulate anyone for what good they can do. You do it, and that's is. It is hard for me. College was competitive but I had friends. Here, everything and everyone is cold, the result is the only that warmth your heart. The thing that keeps me alive is the lack of routine. Every day is different and goes with new pressure, new excitement. Today was, once again, one of them.

Everything started with a phone call from Moneypenny, telling me that today someone important was coming to visit the Q branch with M. She asked me to tell everyone to be ready and extremely performant during this moment. She added that we may have to answer questions from this guest and that the Q branch's notoriety was depending on this visit. I understood that if any of us failed, my career would be not as great as I intended it to be. Quickly after the call ended, I reunited all the minions under my order and repeated Moneypenny's words. They all nodded and went back to their work as if it wasn't that much of a big deal. They were working here since longer than me so them might be used to this kind of visit but for me it was new and a source of anxiety.

I tried to go back on my own work and didn't stop for the whole day. I forgot to eat lunch like every other day. At one point, it came to my mind that I didn't ask for the visitor's name and I remembered that here, names mean nothing. Here I'm just Q and it may be better like this.

By 3pm I perceived a change of atmosphere in our laboratory. We still had hours of work in front of us but no visitors would come after 6pm so we knew that they were coming in the next three hours. I made myself another cup of tea, I had so many today that I was not even able to count them anymore. I received a mail from Moneypenny, really short just saying "On our way." I took a deep breath and cleaned my glasses. I gathered my workmates once again and I just nodded. They understood. We were ready, I could sense that everyone wanted it to finish quickly, the pressure was a little too high to keep us sane any longer. I went back to my desk when the door opened.

Moneypenny was leading the group, opening doors, nodding and taking notes when necessary. M was following, in a deep conversation with a man I've never seen before. I observed that the pressure in room augmented when they entered the lab. Moneypenny mouthed me to come where the group was. I approached, a bit intimated by the man that I supposed was our important visitor. He was not slim, that for sure, when you compare it with me that still don't get the concept of food. His three-piece suit was perfectly clean, I was pretty sure I could never afford something like this. He was slowly starting to go bald, he seemed a little older than M. His face was the most unexpected face I've ever seen. A lack of expression. It was just coldness. I had seen a lot of agents putting a mask similar to this to stay sane while being on mission but this was beyond everything else. It wasn't just a lack of expression but a total absence of feeling. I could feel only brain and not heart coming from this man. It put doubt on my own way to work. I always tried to let my emotions out of this place but this man was totally winning the contest, if contest there was.

M looked at me while speaking and I saw in his eyes a reassuring gaze. Everything will be alright he was silently telling me. I wanted to believe him. He turned back to his interlocutor.

"Let me introduce you to our new Quartermaster, Q. Young but extremely brilliant."

The man smiled at me but it was nothing more than manners. His eyes were unfocused, somewhere I couldn't see but that was all around. He was seeing things that I couldn't imagine, just by looking quickly at me. I saw that by a very little glance, he knew everything about me, and I didn't quite understand how.

"Mycroft Holmes, nice to meet you."

He didn't give the impression to be that much enchanted to meet me whatever words he would use. He stopped to look at me and went back in his discussion with M. Moneypenny was still not sure about what to do about their presence here. I glanced at her with interrogation. She raised her eyebrows, not able to answer my silent question. I didn't know if I was supposed to go back to work or to wait next to them, expecting a question from Mister Holmes at any moment. I went back to my desk but instead of sitting down and continue the coding I stopped before they came in, I just grabbed my mug still full of tea and went back to the group. I could feel the eyes of the minions trying to understand what was happening. I drank a sip of my now cold tea. M turned back to be and just whispered "what's wrong with you ?"

Mister Holmes said, without looking at us "It's fine, either he drinks it now or it will be too cold to be useful. No waste is good sometime."

M went back to him and I could see confusion on his face.

"What do you mean sometime ?" he asked, not sure if question was a good option.

"Well, drinking this tea is less expensive than that mess your agents did in Serbia," the man declared, indifferent, looking at the other side of the room, where all the minions were working.

M stayed silent, understanding that he was not in a good position at this point of the conversation. I didn't hear about this blunder but I assumed it was not the good moment for me to ask about it. I took another sip of my tea and Moneypenny on my right side moved her elbow in my ribs to force me to stop. I almost spit my tea. I saw a grin on Mister Holmes's face. Did he come here to mess up with everyone ?

Moneypenny's phone started ringing. She answered it and after a few seconds she went closer to M to whisper something to him. He gritted his teeth and his serious eyes indicated that it was a really important matter.

"Excuse us, a urgent case awaits us," he apologised.

Moneypenny and M left the lab in the following seconds. I was the one who was supposed to deal with this man now. I sighed inside of me and tried to find motivation.

"Your cats don't like their food, you know. You should try something else, the vegetables in it are not their taste, it seems so." He claimed while looking at my jumper.

I didn't how he found out that my cats were not keen with their croquettes but I conceded that my jumper was their favourite place to sleep. It was easy to understand that I have cats when you see how much hair my clothes contain.

"One of them seems to be ok with it, if you could see how fat it is. Maybe it eats somewhere else, stupid pet."

But Mister Holmes was not listening anymore. He approached my desk, staring at all the stuff on it. It was clearly a mess but it allowed my mind to go free more easily.

"Are you happy working here ?" He asked without stopping glancing at my computer.

I was surprised. He wasn't looking like someone who cared about my thoughts about this job. Maybe he was a health and safety inspector or something, but that didn't sound right when I looked at this man.

"Yes, but there is not a lot of people to speak with," I answered, "Not that there is no one in here, but conversations are quite limited, you see."

"I perfectly understand. Do you consider yourself more intelligent than your minions in there ?"

I could hear a arrogant accentuation while saying intelligent. Was he considering himself more intelligent than everyone ? To his attitude its was clear for me.

"Of course not, I'm just a nerd trying to make my bit of knowledge in coding useful."

"But you understand better and quicker than the common mass."

He sat on my chair and played with one of my pens. He was enjoying being as clever as few could reach. He was bored but seeing himself untouchable was making him confident and playful. I took my computer and sat on the floor next to him. I drank one more sip of tea and opened my research program. I didn't know who this man was but my only friend, my computer and its multitude of software will help me to go through the secret he was trying to be. This machine was one of the most sophisticated computers on earth, everything was reachable. Holmes was glancing at my screen. I got very few result. Stuffs related to his brother, Sherlock Holmes, things about the cabinet office, membership from the Diogenes Club. Something felt wrong. He has stopped to look at my computer, with a subtle smile. He knew that I wouldn't find much. Well, I was ready for a second round. I opened a coding page and started typing. I knew the code by heart. It was not a complicated one. The access to secret files was easy when you were already inside the MI6. Around ten seconds later a bunch of files opened. I started to smile and Holmes was not smiling anymore. I could sense his eyes reevaluating me. I was becoming interesting for him. I drank another sip of my tea, that was disgustingly cold. I closed all the files without reading them. It was not my job to learn about the apparently secret life of Mycroft Holmes. If those files were hidden, there was a reason and it was none of my concern. I just needed to know that there was something important enough to make this man a true pressure on M.

"You're more intelligent than I thought. More than that, you're wise. That's something important in this world. To take the right decisions. I'm not able to apply that all the time to my life, I hope you will, at least here."

I assumed that advice were rare coming from this man. I supposed he would usually give warning more than advice. I nodded and closed my computer. Holmes gave the impression to have fun. I thought that it wasn't every day that someone was able to read every file containing his name, even more that this person chooses to do not read them. He stood up, stretching a little his legs. Was my chair that much uncomfortable ?

"Well, it was nice to meet you, as I already said. Good luck with all of this."

He left the lab with no other word. I didn't find any answer to what he said but he was not expecting any response.

I threw away my tea, too cold to be drinkable. I went back to work. I wanted to finish the paperwork of the last collaborative mission between the Q branch and the 00 agents. I was expected, with the feedback from the agents, to explain how the tools used in missions could be improved. Boring work. A minion came to see me at some point to ask about the reason for the earlier visit. I still had no idea and shrugged for only answer.

At 10pm I finally got out of the lab. All the technicians had already left since at least one hour but I still needed to finish this stupid report. I put my computer in my bag, as usual, and took my coat. Time to go home. I went directly to the underground station. I could easily afford to take a cab everyday but I felt uncomfortable at the idea to be alone with a stranger for half an hour in such a small space. The subway was allowing more escape. Everyone was in his own bubble, and for nothing in the world they would break it.

The station was still crowded. The thought of standing up all the way home made me sigh loudly while waiting on the platform. I felt a vibration in the breast pocket of my coat. My personal phone. Almost no one was contacting me one this phone, just my parents and some rare friends. But none of them would send me a text at this hour. I opened my coat to grab my phone.

"Lunch tomorrow at Brunswick's. MH"

For god's sake. MH was obviously the new acquaintance I made this afternoon. But for which holy reason did he want to eat with me ? Anything but food was alright. He was not the kind of person you ask to change plan just because your eating disorders are not the friendliest things to live with. The message was not expecting an answer. I put my phone back in my pocket and got on the subway that had just arrived. I spent the journey to my station thinking about what happened today.

And now here I am in my dark little flat. I could afford something bigger but for which use ? Billy and Caramel were impatiently waiting in the kitchen for their croquettes. Did they really despite the one I give them ? They seemed pretty happy with it when you see at what speed they eat this stuff. Seeing them eating reminded me that I haven't eaten for more than twelve hours. Not that I'm keen on food but basic needs are still needs. I opened my cupboard and took the first bag of food coming. Popcorn. When did I buy popcorn ? Whatever. I slowly ate what my body sounded to accept but after three bites of this over sweet thing, I started to feel nauseous. I needed to eat. Come on for god's sake. I filled a glass of water and drank it, deeply breathing between every swallow. I put the bag back in the cupboard and searched for something that my body would be less reluctant to eat. I opened my fridge. This yogurt appeared to be the best option. I didn't feel anything from my stomach telling me otherwise. I took the yogurt and ate it very slowly. Caramel was looking at me. How can it be so fat ? Did it eat without knowing when to stop ? I started to envy that cat, its life looked so much easier than mine. I finished my yogurt and threw the packaging away. The taste of it in my mouth felt uneasy. I brushed my teeth quickly, I didn't want this taste to stay five more seconds.

After that I finally went to bed, too exhausted to even put pyjamas on. Who cares anyway ?

I woke up with a terrible sentiment of emptiness going through my whole body. I didn't sleep well. Not at all if I considered this horrible sensation in mouth. I had thrown up. I started to remember it. The very few food I ate last evening didn't stay that longer in my body. I had continued to throw up even with nothing else in my stomach. This moment has drained all my physical and mental energy out of me.

I tried to sit down on my bed slowly but the room started to spin. Would this mess ever stop ? I closed my eyes and grabbed my glasses. I stood up and, keeping my glasses in hands, I went into the bathroom. My balance was good enough to allow me to move with my eyes closed without feeling worst. I put my clothes off and went into the shower. I opened the water and sat down on the cold tiles. My body couldn't endure five more minutes standing up. This day was starting badly as usual. I've seen worst, I've seen better. I thought, as every other day, about what another student told me one day in college.

"You will not live long like this. I've already seen someone like you. We found out too late and now she is dead." His sister has died from something similar to me. The day we graduated he handed me a paper with addresses and advice for replacing medications. I still haven't found the good moment to think properly about it and I believe the paper is at my parent's house.

After ten more minutes under the hot, almost burning, water, I felt a bit stronger to stand up and try to eat again. I made my way back in my room to put clothes on and I remembered that I was supposed to have lunch with Mycroft Holmes on this day. I grabbed what I supposed to be a less ridicule jumper than usual, with less cat hairs on it. It was just plain black with a turtle neck. It was, as most of my clothes, too big for me but I felt more comfortable hidden in it than with fitted clothes. I was too slim to reasonably wear this kind of things.

Dressing up was painful, my body still hatched from this restless night. I finally went in the kitchen. My dear cats had finished eating all their croquettes. I grabbed a box of cereal on the counter and ate. Cereal was flavorless to me. It was the only thing, with tea, that my body always accepted. I liked tea, cereal was just neutral. I replaced my cat water, their bowl was almost empty. I thought about the journey in the underground that was waiting for me. Cereal suddenly started to taste really bad. I put the box back at its place, my stomach still half-empty and took my stuff to go to work.

I found a seat in the subway. I was still a bit dizzy but sitting down was already having good effect on me.

I arrived at the lab forty-five minutes later. I thought I was coming in later than usual but I was only the second person to be inside our laboratory. I made myself the first tea of the day, with the strongest tea we had in stock. I felt revigorated after drinking the burning beverage. I opened my computer to check the location of the meeting at lunch. It was almost next to our building. I supposed that Mister Holmes didn't want me to miss work as much as possible. How nice.

The morning passed slowly. Some daily reports from agents in mission was missing as usual. I called them, asking them to do it as quick as possible. Not the most exciting part of this job. I phoned 007 who was starting his mission this afternoon and that I was going to supervise with M. 007 was not an easy person but worth talking with. I could guess that for him too, discussing and arguing together was a way to shake up this job a little bit. Today mission was not easy, as most of the one given to 007 but was definitely not the hardest he ever had. We recapitulated the bullet points of the mission established with M. We both needed to remember clearly what were the goals of this mission to be able to focus only on them.

After my third cup of tea I saw everyone starting to relax and leaving to have their lunch. I supposed it was time for me to go to this meeting with Holmes.

The walk to the restaurant wasn't that long and I arrived about seven minutes later. Holmes has already ordered a glass of wine for himself. I entered the restaurant and went in his direction. I sat in front of him and he welcomed me with a nod. A waitress came to our table.

"Would you like anything to drink ? Offered by the house, of course."

I hesitated. Was I supposed to drink alcohol ? I couldn't do that. The thought of an alcoholised beverage touching my tongue created a wave of disgust in my whole body.

"Tea. Green tea please."

I saw Holmes raising an eyebrow. Anyone with a bit of common sense would have used this free order for something fancier that hot coloured water. His eyes went back to the menu in front of him. I was scared to look at one for me. I finally started to read the different meals, slowly, trying to keep it as abstract as possible to avoid reactions from my stomach. I needed something simple. I felt attracted by the side meal section. I knew ordering just a plate of potatoes would look unacceptable but it was the only thing that I was feeling ok with.

Holmes ordered a plate of meat with mixed vegetables. I order mine in a whisper. The waitress made a surprised face but didn't comment. Holmes was smiling, a small peaceful smile. Was he happy about the thought of eating ? It was something that I couldn't understand.

The waitress came back with my cup of tea. I drank a sip. It was boiling but good. It felt warm in my body and for once a bit better than usual.

"Do you like the cinema from the thirties ?" asked Holmes, looking straight at me with a serious gaze.

"I don't watch that much movies." I answered in a breath. To say it fairly, apart from documentaries I haven't seen so many movies in my life.

"So what do you like ? Books ? No, comics or stuff like that, right ? You're more on the nerd side."

"Painting."

Holmes was not expecting this answer. He raised an eyebrow and leaned against the back of his chair. I could sense his eyes going everywhere on me. He was, once again, reevaluating me. I didn't know what was his point in trying to understand me but whatever please him. I just didn't want to be too easy to read, that would be a terrible weakness from me. He attacked again with questions about college. I was sure he already knew all the answers, everything was written in my MI6 file. College was not the happiest moment of my life, to speak truly. Silence came back at some point and I felt it was my turn to ask questions. I had so many but nothing that seemed clever to ask now.

"My cats ate all their food yesterday evening. They were waiting impatiently, you know." I couldn't find any other reasonable subject. "And when I woke up this morning, they had finished their bowl. It doesn't suggest that they don't like it."

"Well, even if they like it, it's not what it's good for them. Their hairs are seriously damaged. Just try something without less vegetables."

The waitress arrived with our orders. The view of the food made me feel instantly nauseous. I reprimanded as I could this horrible impression. I had to eat, to go through this lunch. I could throw up as I wanted once outside of this place but for now, I had to accept those potatoes in my stomach. I could see a smile on Holmes's face. He was someone who enjoyed food. He quickly started to eat. I took my fork and put a potato in my mouth. My fingers were slightly shaking. I needed to think about something else. Distraction for my brain.

"Explaining me what you like in painting." Holmes asked while cutting his meat.

Yes, speaking. I was going to speak until forgetting that I had food in my plate. It was the only solution.

"It's something that ask for emotions, you see. It doesn't matter the emotion you discern while looking at a painting, the importance is to feel it. It helps me to understand what is happening to my mind. Like a therapist but quite less expensive."

Holmes was nodding from time to time. He was continuing to eat but it was something that I was erasing from my mind. I focused on his eyes, looking at me with a sort of kindness that could have been misunderstood as pity.

"I don't paint. I like looking at them, even the ones considered as meaningless. The only thing I can do is what I call paint-coding. I code, pixel by pixel an image until recreating it. You know, some people are really good with photoshop or whatever software to create things. But it's not precise enough for me. Coding is the most precise thing that exist. It's the hidden side of everything that exist on a computer. If you master it, you can create everything, art, software, war weapons. But you need to put limit on yourself, as in everything else."

"How long does it take you to create a "painting" by coding ?" said Holmes. He seemed genuinely interested.

"From two to five hours, depending on the size. But if you search something with real brush stroke, that's not the good thing. It's digital, even if I can recreate every brush movement from the original painting, it's only 2D. It has no consistency."

"Do you often recreate already existing painting ? That's replica you know. Laws are not really good with that."

"Why would I do that ? There are enough imitators outside, I have no interest in this kind of work. I want to put my own feeling in my art, not copying without fully understanding the emotions of someone else."

I paused for some seconds, recomposing my thoughts. Holmes has eaten most of his plate. I ate a second potato swallowing slowly.

"What do you like in vintage movies ?" I asked Holmes. It was his turn to answer. Conversations are supposed to be coming from both sides.

"It was the beginning of cinema. There was something new in it. The way the actors played didn't really mattered. It was just the excitement created by the endless possibilities of this new media. Now everyone try to play a character, even I, even you, and that's not always working. People think they're being interesting and unique when it has been already done more than thousand times."

I could sense in his gaze some shadows. His own character was tiring and understanding the other people's ones at the first sight may make him bored. Everything was too easy for him. I nodded quietly.

I couldn't touch anything more of my plate and watched Holmes finish his own silently. The waitress came back and took our plates away. Holmes indicated her that we wouldn't take desserts. I suddenly remembered that my mission with 007 was waiting for me in the lab but I assumed I was not in hurry. Holmes leaned forward and said in a very calm voice.

"I can't explain how, and it bothers me, but I have the feeling that you are different from other people. I usually only feel pity for most human beings but now I have some interest for you."

He looked at me straight into my eyes and I could perceive trustfulness carefully shown as little as possible in his expression. He was unsure about what was going on, he wanted me to care as much as he did.

"You remind me of someone," Holmes whispered, "but you're still completely different from him."

I didn't know what to answer. I looked away from him. The waitress gave the bill to Holmes. While he paid, I could sense his expression completely changing. He was putting back his mask of coldness as when I saw him for the first time yesterday. I dared a glance at my watch. Now I was late for Bond's mission.

"It was nice to have lunch with you, Mister Holmes. I need to go, work is waiting for me."

I stood up, putting on my coat. Holmes slightly tilted his head on the right and smiled.

"Goodbye, Q. We will see each other soon."

I said goodbye and left quickly to go back to MI6. My professional phone started to ring. Moneypenny. I answered and almost yelled in the phone while running : "I know ! I'm late ! I had lunch for once in my life for god's sake !" and I hanged up.

Review this first chapter if you want ! Anything will be constructive !