Wibbly Wobbly Pathways of Time

Chapter 1

"But it's the solar system!" The Doctor's voice hitched, it was clear the man was inches away from strangling Sherlock with his own bloody scarf.

But the detective remained unimpressed, he rolled his eyes. His gaze flittering from the TARDIS console to John, the soldier huddled on the padded bench, his eyes wide as he stared at the flashing lights and looked like he was about to faint any second.

Sherlock turned his attention back to the Doctor, a devilish grin slowly spread across his face but he drawled out the one word that he knew would send the Doctor into a frenzy of brilliance fuelled by anger.

"Boring!"

Three Hours Previously

"Oui, Oui, monsieur ... je vous assure que je vais aborder en détail cette problème lors de notre prochaine réunion. Bon après-midi, monsieur."

Mycroft put the phone down with a little more force than he intended. For some reason, Mycroft found himself oddly irritable. He took his glasses off his nose and placed them in his shirt pocket; he pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Enjoying the silence that washed over him as relaxed into the upholstered green leather. At last he had some peace and quiet.

Then someone knocked on the door.

"Mr. Holmes? I'm sorry to disturb you but The Captain is here to see you, sir. He says it is urgent." Anthea poked her head around the door, half expecting a book to be thrown her way for daring to disturb her employer, if his mood when she greeted him in the morning was anything to go by.

Mycroft sighed heavily and reluctantly sat up, adjusting his posture and trying to find the will to deal with Captain Jack Harkness. "Very well, show him in."

Anthea nodded and went to close the door, but 'The Captain' brushed past her and burst into the room, the navy military coat billowing behind him. As he walked in, his hand, rather not so innocently brushed against Anthea's arse and he winked playfully at her.

Anthea, well used to the erratic and eccentric behaviour of all the men in Mycroft's life, simply raised an eyebrow at him before closing the door, covering the fact that she was more than slightly pleased she got attention from him with a scowl.

The two men stared at each other as Captain Jack Harkness stood in front of Mycroft's desk, looking exactly the same as he remembered him. Tall, muscular and ridiculously handsome. The man didn't look a day older. Damn him. Why did he have to stay perfect for the rest of eternity and Mycroft had to grow old and get fat and die?

Jack looked at Mycroft thinking how well he had aged, better than the gangly, young man barely out of adolescence that had just accepted a high profile position in the British Government. He looked refined, and, at that moment, oddly adorable since he looked about three seconds away from reaching the end of his tether. He looked thin. Thinner than he should be. Jack knew something had happened to a little brother – Shylock – no, Sherlock a few years back so perhaps that had been the cause of his new, almost skeletal look.

Although, in all honestly, Jack had to admit that he looked tantalisingly delicious with his pale blue shirt, sleeves rolled up and the collar undone, showing a ridiculous amount of deliciously pale skin.

"You've lost weight."

Jack spoke first, breaking the silence in the room that was very quickly filling up with testosterone. Mycroft bristled, who was Jack to comment on his weight? Christ, did her majesty have an opinion on the bloody subject? Everyone else seemed to.

"That is none of your –"

"You look good. Better than I've seen you in a long time. Have you found someone?" Jack asked, cocking his head slightly, a genuine smile on his face.

"That information has nothing to do with you." Mycroft spoke through gritted teeth.

"Oh." Jack sounded disappointed. "You haven't met anyone else."

Mycroft frown, why would he sound disappointed? 'Well, there was no one else.' Mycroft thought somewhat bitterly to himself. Whether it was his pride or simply the British stiff upper lip that dominated his life, which stopped him from saying it aloud, he wasn't sure, but he knew those words would never leave his lips.

"But you have." Mycroft's voice was strained as he talked. "A…pilot? Yes, a pilot. Is that why you came here? To gloat?"

"No. I did not come here to show off. I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh, you always want to talk don't you? You could never keep silent for long could you, Jack? You always liked the sound of your voice too much." He snapped, a little harshly.

Jack smiled crookedly, trying not to let Mycroft's current mood get to him. "That brother of yours is wearing off on you. You hang around sociopaths too much."

"I do not 'hang around' with any one, thank you, Captain Harkness." Mycroft prickled at the Americanism Jack used, he had certainly not missed that.

Jack finally lowered himself into the leather wing-backed arm the other side of Mycroft's desk and placed his hands in his lap. He smiled and spoke with a sad calmness that felt like velvet to Mycroft's ears.

"You know I always much preferred the sound of your voice, Mycroft." Jack said suddenly. He rolled his 'r' as he spoke. "Especially when I made you scream."

Mycroft felt his cheeks burn indignantly and internally scolded himself for his adolescent behaviour. They were just words; words that seemed ridiculously seductive coming from the beautiful talented mouth of that – no. Oh, dear God no.

Mycroft's blush deepened as he realised what he was thinking were having a very unwanted effect on him. Jack simply smiled at him from across the desk.

"If it helps, I'm thinking it too."

"Why are you here Jack – Mr – Captain Harkness?" Mycroft stuttered as he spoke and corrected himself a shameful amount of times because he was becoming ridiculously flustered and very quickly getting very annoyed.

"I love it when you say my name." The American grinned cheekily. "You never know, when this is all done perhaps you and I could give it another shot." He said jovially but there was no denying the underlining hope in his voice.

If Mycroft was had been feeling diplomatic and kind he probably would have nodded politely or even agreed but Mycroft was not feeling diplomatic and certainly not kind, so he twisted his face into the worst sneer he could manage and spat,

"If by 'it' you are referring to the sexual encounters you and I had, because I can assure you, Captain Harkness, that 'it' was certainly not a relationship then I shall have to sorely disappoint you. I am married to my work and nothing will ever change that. Oh, and I will ask you not to sexually assault my staff or I might actually let Anthea kill you. I'm sure she would find the experience extremely therapeutic and once she'd start I'd fear she would not be able to stop. Now, Jack, what business has brought you here?"

Jack schooled his expression and smiled thinly. "I just stopped by to say that the Doctor has entered 221B Baker Street."

Then Mycroft swore.