Sherlock: Agents

by: Shadow Chaser

Story:

Q first discovered it as he was reviewing Bond's files. It was neither accidental nor deliberate, since he was the Quartermaster of MI6 after all. There were two others besides himself – the head of Medical and M - who had been allowed to see all of the classified and non-classified files of all double-o agents. Q-branch needed to design cutting-edge technology that included biological, psychological, and technical components to give their agents the best chance in the field. So discovering where each agent resided whenever they were off-duty or, more often than not in Bond's case, suspended from duty, was really nothing private compared to his medical and psychological files.

Still, one did not readily waltz over to an agent's flat, or house, like they were good friends or anything. Q did have some discretion since being involved in the world of espionage. It also had caught his notice since with his edict memory, much like his older brothers' mind palaces – though Mycroft might have a mind city instead – he had mentally updated his files on 007. It was a change of address and while it would have been filed away, he could not help but notice that the change in address was literally only a few doors away from the Diogenes Club that Mycroft frequented. A brief extraneous thought that Bond also knew about the Club's underground route into the old emergency bunker for MI6, flitted through his mind, but Q pushed the thought away. Bond would not know, and even if he did, he knew that they all resided in Vauxhall now. The emergency bunker had been shut down and officially mothballed by M since Silva had made his escape.

He absently poked the Union Jack-painted bulldog's head, making it wobble and dance around on the coffee table it was sitting on as he heard the nearly-invisible tread of Bond's footsteps just outside his door. The corner of Q's lips turned up in an involuntary smile at the fact that Bond had been able to spot that something was wrong outside his flat. Q had been careful to leave only the barest trace that someone had broken in, something that only his brothers or Anthea could have picked it up. The fact that Bond had been able to sense it delighted him. Not even a second later, the door slowly opened with the softest of clicks and Q looked up with a mild neutral expression at the sight of a Walther PPK pointed at him.

Piercing blue eyes stared down the other end of the barrel before they blinked once and a frown graced Bond's rugged features. The PPK was lowered, but only just, "...Q..."

"Your cupboards are lacking in tea," Q commented with a small shrug before he glanced back down at the bulldog and poked its head again, making it wobble some more.

"I suppose I will have to remedy that seeing that I have guests," Bond replied dryly as he holstered his gun and closed the door behind him.

Q only smiled briefly at the hint and unspoken question of why was he in his flat and to get the hell out of his flat. "No need to pop on over to the corner Tescos for me Bond, I was just leaving."

"Uh huh..." he could feel the agent's eyes on him as he stood up, walking a few steps over to grab the woolen military-style peacoat bundled on the window's ledge. It had been a gift from Bond as a thank-you present of sorts; at least that was what Q had surmised when it had all but appeared one day at his workstation. Bond had not been quite lurking in the shadows, but he did catch the agent's eyes on him a couple of times after he had worn it since receiving it and it had always been without comment – unlike the many other times Bond tended to make sarcastic or dry comments on his jumpers, tea mugs; anything and everything he owned or brought to work. That was how he figured out the jacket had been from him. He supposed the thank you present was more than likely because of whatever had happened with Silva more than anything else. Still, it was a really nice jacket and more often than not, matched his usual wardrobe.

"It is rather curious though," he commented as he slipped the peacoat on, staring out of the flat's windows, "the neighborhood you've chosen. Rather posh, wouldn't you say?"

"I like to feel at home," was the same dry reply from the agent.

Q hid a grin under the popped collar of his jacket as he folded it down and started to tie his scarf. It was a dark green one that he had found to match the dark grey-black of his jacket. "As you felt very at home at Skyfall," he replied, "which is why it's sitting in ruins." He sighed and turned to Bond.

As much as he liked the evasiveness of the conversation, a much more refreshing one than the usual bluntness the double-o agent was known for, his lunch was almost over and Q rather liked his lunch breaks. "Bond, why are you watching over the Diogenes Club?"

"Oh, is that what I see the politicians and diplomats going into?" the agent had no hint of expression on his face and Q resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"I know you have no cases and you should be on leave since your return from that last mission," Q replied, "protocol."

"I am on leave," Bond replied as he casually took a few steps into the room and sat down on the couch that Q had recently vacated, "I just happen to have a Quartermaster who apparently broke into my flat here."

"And did your leave happen to take you into the Diogenes Club which you ended up discovering that they communicate by silence only or written notes," Q stared sharply at Bond who imperceptibly straightened at his look with the slight narrowing of his eyes. Two, or rather three can play this game, Q thought as he could clearly see it in the agent's body language that he had been subjected to one of Mycroft's scans. The only difference between Sherlock's and Mycroft's scans was that Sherlock's was much more blunt and withering, while Mycroft all but ignored bluntness and went for subtly. Q happened to think that his own was more...kinder cross of the two.

"And you happen to not know the password, which by the way, is this," he made a few gestures with his hands, tapping parts of his head, neck, and chest before lowering his hands, "to get you to see Mycroft Holmes if you wish to talk to him again next time. Though I doubt Anthea would let you even get close again."

"She and I have an understanding," Bond's expression was flat.

"I'm sure," Q replied, "and not withstanding, you happen to only see Mycroft because you knew when he was coming into the Diogenes Club and parlayed that into an interception. He then most likely proceeded to question you, rather than you question him, and you left a little angry, but still smart enough to take a cab, walk around London several times to lose whatever tail you think you might have picked up, only to return here and find me here."

"Angry?" Bond asked blithely.

"Hardly," Q scoffed, "but I can definitely tell you for future reference, your evasive techniques, though admirable, are for naught. Mycroft can see everything." He gestured with a finger towards the windows, "CCTV."

Bond frowned a little at the statement and Q nodded, "He knows you live here, 007."

"And this...is a house call?" the agent frowned at him.

Q only blinked at him, "I am not my brother, 007." He could see how his words had easily confused the agent and shook his head, "I merely wish to understand why." He sighed again, "And I suspect that's why you decided to live in this flat for all of its...homely comforts."

"I just moved in," Bond shrugged at the lack of the 'lived in' presence his flat had. Q knew that his own flat was vastly different, and knew that Bond had seen it when he had searched for him during his year-long suspension from MI6.

He could sense that they were at an impasse and though he knew he could easily break it by telling Bond about certain things; he still was not comfortable about telling him everything. Though he was touched by the agent's loyalty and odd friendship – for the lack of a better word – he much rather keep a low profile, even at MI6. The double-o's were good at their job and while he knew that Bond would eventually find out the whole story, he would not find out today. The fact that Bond already knew that he and Mycroft had a familial relationship, however contentious and whatever conclusions he had silently drawn that day that he had been at his flat, Q was ready to leave it at that.

Q had already come to the conclusion that Bond's confrontation of Mycroft that day had resulted in this current purchase and change of address. He just needed to confirm a few things and his questioning and analysis of Bond had come to that conclusion. He sighed again and adjusted the knot of his scarf before heading towards the door. "Bond," he stopped for a moment and turned to look at the agent who looked like he was sitting casually on the couch, but instead looked rather alert, "do be careful."

He could see something behind Bond's piercing eyes flash, but the other man's expression stayed rather neutral. The corner of Q's lips twitched up in a half smile before he opened the door and stepped through. Just before he closed it, he peered back in and gave the agent a small smile. "Also, you should have taken the money Mycroft offered to spy on me. We could have split it in half and he would be none the wiser. Think on it next time, 007."

Q closed the door shut and headed downstairs and out of the building, the cold air of central London blasting him in the face. He looked towards the Diogenes Club's building before glancing up at one of the CCTV cameras and absently winked at it. Let Mycroft stew on his failure in acquiring another agent for his purposes – 007 had proven he was loyal as ever and Q was content to leave it at that.

James Bond allowed himself to relax after he heard Q's barely-noticeable tread fade down the stairs before the front door of the complex opened and closed. Since working with him on the Silva incident, he had taken the time to study the young Quartermaster. For one thing, after creating a backdoor access using M's old log-in he had created when he had first gone after Le Chiffre, he had discovered that a lot of Q's files were redacted, even with M's cloned access. The second thing was that the access had not worked a second time and he had been unceremoniously booted out of the system. Bond had suspected that he had somehow tripped a failsafe of sorts and that it had been either Q or Mycroft Holmes that had discovered his cloned login.

He had then discovered the surprising connection between Mycroft Holmes and Q, but had stopped his pursuit of that lead by Q's request during his time of suspension. Instead, he had focused his efforts on finding out who was Sherlock Holmes, Q's other brother. It had led to reading about the older Holmes' notoriety and growing fame, about James Moriarty and how he had nearly stolen the Crown Jewels, reading about Dr. John Watson's blog, and all sorts of other things. The very interesting thing was that there was little to no information about Q being a Holmes, nor a mention of any third Holmes brother when he cross-referenced Mycroft and Sherlock in any public database. A general broad search of Holmes across the whole of the United Kingdom produced the fact that Holmes was a somewhat common last name – getting him nowhere with finding out who Q was.

Now, Bond was pleased to find that his sleuthing had not been for naught. Q was a lot cleverer than he had initially given credit for; he was almost exactly like his brothers with his remarks and observation to detail – something that had initially gotten a rise out of his hackles and put him on alert, but it had also given Bond a crucial detail.

Q had been trained as an agent. Maybe not as a double-o, but he had undergone the training regimen all double-o's usually went through for clearance. It was the only explanation to how he had broken into his flat with barely a notice and even then Bond had almost not seen the details of someone breaking into his flat. It was only because he had been unusually observant after his encounter with Mycroft Holmes in the Diogenes Club minutes before returning to his flat. He supposed it stood to reason that the Quartermaster of MI6 needed to know how double-o's worked in the field to be able to create their technology and so took the same training regimen.

But somehow, Bond did not think that it was the case. He smiled to himself. It was interesting to see who Q really was – a pleasant diversion from what he had received in the mail before he had entered. M had sent him something from beyond the grave, and Bond had a feeling that this diversion was not going to be as pleasant.

~END~