This is actually the third story in this series, in both posting and chronological order. Wow, it's a miracle!

I've reverted back to Bond's POV for this one. I'm quite fond of it, to be honest.

James hadn't been out of Britain in two months and it was slowly driving him, and therefore everyone around him, mad. M had practically banished him to Q Branch with the hope that he might actually do something productive. Q was asking him his opinion on the design of a miniature grappling hook when R came hurrying up to them with his tablet.

'Q, M says you need to look at this.'

'M?' Q raised an eyebrow. 'He does realise I have my own phone and computer, doesn't he? Why doesn't he tell me himself?'

'I don't know; just look at it, sir.' R's screen was indeed flashing with a message. 'It wants your code.'

Q took the tablet with a huff of impatience, typed in his security code and opened the message. It contained a video. It couldn't be Top Secret or M wouldn't have sent it with R; he would have called Q in. So James, ever curious, leant over Q's shoulder as he pressed play.

They were looking at security footage of what looked like St Bart's Hospital. At first it seemed to James that nothing was happening, but then a figure appeared on the edge of the roof.

James couldn't have possibly recognised anyone in such low quality footage from that distance, but Q did. 'Is that -' he gasped. His grip on the tablet tightened as the man on the roof raised a phone to his ear. At the same time, another man got out of a taxi on the street below.

Q, R and James watched as the two men had a conversation over the phone. And then the man on the roof dropped his phone.

And jumped.

Q cried out involuntarily as the figure crashed to the ground. He dropped the tablet, his hands shaking. For a moment, as Q's eyes widened and he bit his lip, James thought he was going to start crying, but then Q visibly pulled himself together. He blinked quickly and took a deep breath before turning to stare at R, who had been watching with a shocked look on his face. But then, as his boss looked at him, R's face morphed into an almost manic grin.

Oh, fuck.

'Jim Moriarty says "hi".'

Q yelled 'No!' as R made a dash for the door. The Quartermaster himself leapt after him, shouting for security. Not sure what the hell was happening but drawing his Walther all the same, James raced after them.

They ran through the corridors of MI6, leaving agents whirling in their wake. Why no one actually did anything, James had no idea, but most of the employees in this part of MI6 were people with desk jobs, not field agents. Fucking bureaucracy, thought James, ducking around a corner to see R sprinting down a long corridor, towards one of the outer exits. There were field agents and security in the bloody place now, but all they seemed to be able to do was stare.

'Someone stop R!' yelled Q, who was keeping up much better than James had expected. His shout finally generated a reaction from the agents around them, and two burly field agents managed to restrain R.

Q staggered to a halt beside James, clutching his side. He caught his breath, glaring furiously at R, who stared back, unperturbed.

Finally Q was able to speak and he rounded on his second-in-command. 'Moriarty -'

'I only met Irene Alder once before we cut her loose,' interrupted R. His manic grin was back. 'She said Sherlock Holmes told her a funny thing. He said: sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side.' A pause, seemingly for effect. Q had frozen, looking horrified. 'How does it feel to be on the losing side, Q?'

Q lurched forward and grabbed R by his tie. 'You -'

R laughed in his face. 'See you in hell!' And he turned his head to his shoulder and bit down on a decorative button on his shirt.

James knew what that meant: it was all over. Suicide pill. Jesus.

Q stumbled backwards, staring at the body now slumped on the floor. Whispers broke out like wildfire around them as agents tried to work out what they'd just seen. James put away his gun. No use shooting a dead man.

'I take it he was the mole?'

James twisted around to see a woman approaching, eyes glued to a phone, fingers tapping away. Q closed his eyes briefly as he saw her, then sighed.

'Yes. Where is he?'

She didn't look up as she stopped beside them. 'He was meeting with M. He's coming. He needed to talk to you anyway.'

Q nodded and straightened his glasses, as if preparing for battle.

They all waited in near-silence. James stared openly at the woman. He'd never seen her before, and he was almost certain that she wasn't an MI6 agent. Besides, he could be looking at far worse things. She glanced at him once, as if to show she knew exactly what he was thinking and didn't care in the slightest, before going back to her phone.

A ripple ran through the nearby agents, who were still standing around, gawking like schoolgirls. James turned with them, already reaching for his gun, to see M approaching, accompanied by a man James had not expected at all.

Mycroft Holmes.

The most powerful man in Britain, who had multiple fingers in the pies of all sections of the country's intelligence services, as well as all the political parties and also, it was rumoured, the CIA and the DGSE.

James had only seen him at Headquarters once, and M had made it clear she worked with him out of necessity. The bane of the old M's existence seemed to have made a similar impression on Mallory, judging by the distance between them and M's uncomfortable body language.

M gestured at R. 'What happened?'

Q launched into an explanation, gesturing violently as he described what had happened. James watched Holmes. He had barely glanced at Q, more interested in R's body. Crouching down, he examined R's mouth, eyes and hands. He then looked up at Q, who had finished talking.

'Cyanide.'

Q nodded. There was a definite tremor in his voice as he said, 'Sherlock - he hasn't -'

Holmes gave a confirming nod. 'This morning. I take it he' - a precise flick of the hand in R's direction - 'told you?'

'Showed. There was footage...' Q looked down and away, fidgeting with his cuff-buttons. In the ensuing silence, M beckoned to Holmes's assistant, and they began conferring with lowered voices.

Finally Q looked up again, and James was surprised to hear the fragility in his voice as he asked: 'What happened, Mycroft?'

Mycroft? James noted the familiarity with incredulity.

'We don't know yet. Moriarty's body was found on the rooftop. Shot though the mouth. Self inflicted, of course.'

'And Sherlock just -?'

'It appeared so.'

'Why?'

'He came to see –'

'He found out, didn't he? What you told Moriarty. Is that why he did it? Because you -' Q seemed to be having trouble keeping his temper in check. 'I told you it would cause more problems than it would solve.'

'Q -' Holmes raised a hand, but Q shook his head and pressed on.

'What are we going to see on the front of the paper tomorrow, Mycroft?' His tone had turned incredibly bitter. '"Suicide of the Fake Detective?" Because that's what you've started.'

'Q, listen-'

'I don't need to hear excuses, Mycroft. You were wrong.' His lip curled in disdain. 'I'll let you try and salvage what you can. I wash my hands of the whole thing, and of you. He,' Q gestured to R's body, 'said he came from Moriarty. I'd let MI5 know, if I were you. Come, 007,' he finished, turning back towards Q Branch. James hesitated, wondering what Holmes would do.

Holmes snapped angrily 'For God's sake, will you listen to me –'

Q whirled around, and James stared; he could have sworn the Quartermaster was snarling. 'You have no right to speak to me like that anymore, do you understand? In fact, you have no right to speak to me at all. Do I make myself clear, Mr Holmes?'

There was perfect silence. Holmes looked shaken for a fraction of a second, but then his inscrutable expression was back in place. He gave Q a sharp nod.

'Good.' Q turned back to James. 'Now, Bond, if you wouldn't mind…'

They returned to Q Branch in silence. People were giving them a wide berth, probably due to the thunderous look on Q's face. As they walked, James trying in vain to work out what he had just witnessed. The way Q and Holmes had been addressing each other, they'd met before, perhaps even knew each other well. But why? For what reason would they have known each other?

He glanced at younger man; saw the jumping muscle in his jaw as well as the look on his face. He was unspeakably angry, it seemed.

James gave up, filing the whole incident away under reasons Q is not all he seems. That folder was getting quite full.

When the reached Q-Branch and Q's desk, the Quartermaster pressed a button on his desk. Immediately, everyone wearing headphones took them off, and all members of Q Branch in the adjoining offices poked their heads out into the main room. They all looked at Q, who said: 'R's position at MI6 has been terminated. Carry on.'

Comments are better than… I'm running out of things. Please comment?