I promised myself I wouldn't write anything new during the school term, and see what happens.

Here's another multichapter fic for everyone who's complaining that I should make all my one-shots longer.

I actually have no idea how long this will be, where it's going or when it'll get updated.

Please note: This has nothing to do with Maybe I'll Be Gone

Enjoy!

Chapter One: An Interested Party

A morning that would have been full of nothing but target practice was interrupted by a sudden voice in his ear.

'007, report to M immediately. Something's come up.'

'What sort of something, Tanner? If it's diplomats again, I'll be taking that long service leave now.'

'I don't know, Bond, I haven't got clearance. Just put that sniper rifle away and get a move on.'

Rolling his eyes, James obeyed. His curiosity was piqued, anyway. Tanner, as Chief of Staff, had clearance for almost everything. If he didn't know what was going on, it promised to be interesting, at least.

He entered M's office twenty minutes later and managed to (barely) control his start of surprise at the second man in the room, who was sitting at M's desk as if it was his own. M stood beside the desk, looking worried.

'Ah, Bond,' said the unfamiliar man as James closed the door behind him.

Facing his boss and ignoring the stranger, he straightened and said: 'You wanted to see me, sir?'

'Yes, sit down. This -' He nodded his head at the other man, 'is someone I understand most of you call the Director. He has a job for you.'

James stared at the Director, hiding his surprise. The Director was a myth, someone no-one had met but everyone assumed was real. He outranked everyone, even, apparently, the Prime Minister. The man sitting before James would be tall when he stood up, powerfully build, but going slightly to seed and also going bald, although his hair was still black as soot. He looked about forty and radiated old money and power.

The Director pushed forward a thick file. 'There is a man we need you to follow. He's not a threat, he needs protection. You may have heard the name. Dr John Watson, formerly an army doctor with the rank of Captain.'

James picked up the file. The name wasn't familiar, but the face was, in the same way the face of a minor celebrity would be familiar. He flicked through the photos. A university class photograph showing a smiling man with a round, forgettable face, an official army photograph of the same man, thinner and healthier looking.

The next half a dozen photographs were taken later, judging by the lines on the doctor's face, where it was visible in the grainy CCTV stills. In many of them, he was running, but the constant in this series of photographs was a tall, dark haired man, usually in a long black coat that made him look like a bat. The next set were photocopies of newspaper photos, again with the dark haired man. This time they were looking at the cameras and smiling. The captions had been omitted, but getting a better look at their faces was stirring James' memory. Ignoring the thought and allowing it to fester, he turned to the last photograph.

Doctor Watson was standing in the middle of a crowded London street, looking directly at the security camera and giving it a look of pure loathing, neatly coupled with the finger.

He raised his eyebrows. 'He doesn't look like he wants the help.'

The Director sighed. 'We thought he was in no danger, but he was attacked yesterday be men employed by a certain Sebastian Moran. I assume you know of him?'

James nodded. He'd taken over the Moriarty network after his boss' death. Speaking of Moriarty... 'This Doctor Watson, has he been in the news recently?'

'You were investigating Silva at the time it all came to a head, you wouldn't have seen the papers. All the information you'll need on him is in that file. You'll follow him from a distance and make sure he's not harmed in any way. Myself, Moneypenny or Q will be in constant radio contact with you, and will keep you updated on any developments.' M straightened before continuing. Whatever was coming next was the most important thing. 'You are to have no contact with him. He can't know you're there, nor can Moran. If anyone confronts you, you must deny everything. No shooting your way out unless it's your last resort, we want whoever we can get alive.' He nodded to the door. 'Q has your equipment and your new identity. Read the file today, then destroy it before midnight.'

James nodded and got up to leave. 'Good luck, Mr Bond,' said the Director, giving him a look that said Don't you dare stuff it up.

'Thank you, sir.'

'Oh, and Bond, send in Moneypenny, will you?'

'So: Your new personal Walther, Bond, and a Glock just in case. I expect to you bring the Walther back this time, or I might not give you another. If something happens and you do have to surrender a gun, give them the Glock. Anyone can get a Glock, but a personalised gun will be noticed.'

'I know Q, I've done this before. Is that all I get? Not even a radio?'

'Patience is a virtue, 007. The new earpiece I got you to test yesterday, matched to your skin tone. It's waterproof, so don't take it off.'

'I'm sure you really want to hear me talking in my sleep.'

'You're a senior field agent, you don't talk in your sleep. Two Ka-Bar knives, arm and leg holsters. No car, but this torch has, as well as a long battery life, a digital lock-pick. Point at a lock, press and hold, and you're in. New identity in the envelope. You'll find clothes at the house you'll be living it. This -' Bond watched the Quatermaster heave open another case and wondered how the man managed to talk so fast without breaths. '- Is your laptop computer. It's bulletproof, but I'd rather you left it in the house instead of using it as a shield. It works the same as any ordinary computer, however, if you open saved game three in solitaire with this password,' he typed it in so that James could see, 'you'll be connected to our secure network. Watson's file is in your folder, and anything we can find on Moran and his associates will be sent to you straight away. Any questions?'

'Do I get a security feed?'

'Not this time. The Director's people decided against cameras in his house. We've got infrared monitors though, so you'll know if something happens to him. We'll be watching the entire time, don't worry. Good luck, Bond.'

James glanced back at Q as he left the room. Why did the younger man look so on edge?

'Q, have you met the Director?'

Q hesitated. 'Once or twice, yes.'

Once or twice? 'What do you make of him?'

'He's a very strange man, 007, but I think he'd take that as a compliment. You'd better get going, you've got a lot of reading to do.'

James left.