BONDLOCK

BREAKING IN & KIDNAPPING

Author's Note:

Main Pairing: James Bond/Q

Side Pairings: Mycroft Holmes/Gregory Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Note: A sequel to "James Bond: Lost & Found"

Warnings: Sexual content, mild language

Disclaimers: James Bond belongs to Ian Fleming and various other people/publishers worldwide. Sherlock belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss, and Steve Moffat. The original characters are the property of Arthur Conan Doyle. I own nothing but the plot and make no money from this story.

James' day started normally enough. He woke to find Q curled around him, hair all over the place, mumbling under his breath and frowning, as though his dreams weren't going the way he wanted. James had only been back three weeks, and couldn't help but reach out to run one calloused finger over Q's young, smooth face. Of course, his fingers eventually went further, trailing down Q's neck, his chest, all the way to his crotch, where his dick started twitching in interest.

James smirked to himself then, and put his mouth to good use. Q woke gasping, and it wasn't long before James was buried in the young genius' tight heat, Q babbling away beneath him and scratching new patterns into James' back.

A few thrusts was all it took for both of them to climax, and James only just managed to roll to the side and not crush Q beneath his bulk. Q immediately rolled over, wrapping his gangly limbs around the double-oh, and James smiled to himself.

'Morning,' Q mumbled, breathing still laboured.

'Good morning,' James replied and glanced down at him. Q had a small smile on his face, and looked relaxed, as well as thoroughly fucked. James had missed this when he'd been away; had missed Q. Despite Q's fears, James hadn't been with anyone else during his two-and-a-half-month disappearance. He still had to, on occasion, sleep with people while on a mission. But when it was up to James himself, Q was the only person he wanted warming his bed. 'Are you busy today?' James asked.

'It's Thursday.'

'So?'

Q huffed and peeled one eye open, looking faintly in James' direction. James knew that, without his glasses, Q was practically blind.

'Some of us work Monday to Friday, James,' he muttered and closed his eyes again.

'So?' James repeated. He let his fingers ghost up and down Q's warm, flushed skin, smiling when Q hummed and inched closer.

'I have work,' the younger man murmured.

'Take the day off,' James said.

Q huffed another laugh. 'I took three days off when you got back, if you remember,' he said. 'M will murder me if I take another three off.'

'Just one, then,' James said. 'Come on, we can stay in bed and shag all day.'

Q groaned, and James knew they were both remembering the same thing; the three days Q had taken off had been filled with shouting, crying, and lots of sex. The sex more than made up for the yelling, in James' opinion.

'I can't,' Q shook his head and yawned. 'What's the time?'

James shifted slightly to look at the alarm clock Q had bought when they'd first started dating. James' internal body-clock was always good at waking him up on time, but Q could sleep through an earthquake after staying up for three days, and usually needed both the alarm, a phone call, and James to wake him up.

'Just after seven,' the agent said and settled down again.

'Gotta get up-up sooon,' Q said through a yawn.

James looked down at him. 'You look like you want to stay in bed all day.'

'Of course I do,' Q murmured, 'it has a sexy double-oh in it.' James laughed. 'But I have missions to oversee, new equipment to sign off on... if I'm not there, the minions will blow something up again.'

'It was you who blew up that coffee machine the last time,' James pointed out.

Q smirked against his chest. 'Moneypants and Tanner were being annoying.'

'So you punished everyone by blowing up the communal coffee machine,' James commented.

Shrugging one shoulder, Q said, 'A little caffeine withdrawal never hurt anyone.'

'I'd like to see you after three days with no tea,' James said.

'I'll kill you if you take my tea,' Q threatened sleepily, shaking a fist half-heartedly.

James just laughed.

{oOo}

They spent another twenty minutes in bed before Q got up and dragged himself into the shower. James thought about joining him, but Q wouldn't appreciate being late to work, especially since everyone- from M to the minions of Q-Branch- would know exactly why he was late. The large hickey James had sucked onto Q's neck that morning wouldn't help whatever lie Q would try to come up with.

So James lazed about in bed until Q re-appeared to get dressed, then got into a pair of shorts and a sleeveless-shirt himself. He'd neglected his work-out since coming back in favour of spending time with Q. Seeing as how he was still on ordered leave for a further two weeks, James decided to go for a run, followed by lifting some weights in his training room.

Though Q preferred tea, he needed coffee to get him going in the morning, and poured some into a travel mug before grabbing the peace of toast James had been about to eat.

'Oi!'

Q just smirked and kissed James on the cheek. 'Don't get into trouble today, alright? I'll reward you when I get home if you behave.'

'What kind of reward?' James asked. He grabbed Q's dark blue cardigan as the younger man tried to dart past.

'James, I'm going to be late,' Q whined, but let himself be tugged back.

'What kind of reward?' James repeated. He wound his arms around Q's thin waist, and smiled charmingly up at him, knowing Q couldn't resist.

Q groaned and leaned down to kiss the double-oh quickly. 'The good kind that has me naked, riding you,' he said. James groaned, but Q managed to twist himself free. 'Now, I have to go.'

'What time will you be home?' James asked. Home was currently James' flat, which was bigger than Q's, though less lived-in. They usually alternated between the two, and though they didn't technically live together, they hadn't been apart since they'd first slept together (James didn't count his two-month long disappearance).

'Five or six,' Q mumbled through a mouthful of toast. He grabbed his keys from the table by the door and added, 'Be good!' before leaving.

James sighed and turned to make more toast, finishing his coffee and pouring another. A nice long run would take up some time, followed by another work-out, a shower, and then a book. He could call Q and bug him after he'd cooled down.

{oOo}

The hairs on the back of James' neck prickled as soon as he pushed the door to his flat open. Years of training made him pay attention to the warnings his senses were throwing up, and he quickly ducked to the right as he stepped through the door, grabbing a Sig Sauer hand gun from the table by the door. He'd prefer a Walther, but Q wouldn't let him take one home.

He flicked the safety off and pulled back the barrel to load a bullet into the chamber, all while taking a fighting stance and letting his eyes dart around the flat.

The flat consisted of an open kitchen/sitting room, with a hallway to the right that led to the two bedrooms and bathroom. James couldn't see anyone from where he was standing, but that didn't mean-

'Finally, I was getting rather bored.'

James immediately pointed his gun at the voice, which seamed to be coming from his sofa, the back of which faced the door, with an armchair either side. James looked at the TV as he moved closer, which was sitting atop a table before the large window. He could just make out the reflection of someone lounging back, but thankfully the person decided to sit-up, giving James a proper look.

It was a man, tall, with curly brown hair and bright blue eyes. He was pale, like he spent all his time in-doors, and had sharp cheekbones and an angular face. He was wearing a dark coat over an expensive suit, with a blue scarf wrapped around his neck.

He didn't seem bothered by the gun pointed at him, and stood completely, showing James that he was a good two or so inches taller than the double-oh.

'Who are you?' James asked.

The man raised an eyebrow as he looked James over, and sniffed as his eyes darted back to the blonde's. 'Dull. And here I thought Quillan would prefer brains over brawn.'

'Excuse me?' James asked, while internally his brain was whirling. Quillan. So this man knew Q.

'See? Dull,' the man sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. He tilted his head as he looked at the gun. 'There's no need for that, I assure you.'

'Isn't there?' James said. 'Because I usually find comfort in pointing a gun at strange men who've broken into my flat.'

'Well, whatever helps you sleep at night, Bond,' the man drawled, and James frowned.

'You know who I am,' he said, 'care to introduce yourself?'

'Not particularly,' the man sighed, 'but I suppose it'll make this entire ordeal easier to manage.' He thrust his hand out, 'Hand-shakes are customary when meeting the man defiling your little brother, yes?'

'What?' James gaped, the gun lowering only slightly as he fought to understand just what the hell was happening.

'You're currently sleeping with my little brother,' the man said. 'I was informed that I should at least act somewhat... cordial, towards you, or Quillan would get annoyed.'

'Q's your brother?' James asked. He'd never, not once, heard Q mentioned a brother. He'd mentioned a family member who worked for the government- or was the government, Q had been drunk and slurring at the time- but never had Q mentioned having a sibling.

'Yes, he is,' the man said. 'I'm Sherlock Holmes, Quillan's older brother. By three years, if you want to be specific.'

'Ookaay,' James breathed slowly, 'and how do I know you're actually his brother?'

Sherlock's lips quirked and he pulled a pink iPhone from his coat pocket. 'Let's call him, shall we?' he asked and pressed his slim fingers against the touch-screen.

The two fell into silence, James still pointing a gun at Sherlock Holmes, while the younger man was swiftly tapping at his phone. James wondered just what the hell kind of family Q came from if his big brother had no qualms about breaking into his boyfriend's flat.

Finally Sherlock pressed the phone to his ear and smiled at James, though it was a patronising one. After a few seconds, he said, 'Quillan, I'm calling because your boyfriend's pointing a gun at me.' He paused. 'I broke into his flat.' Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'Are you really surprised?' Smirking, Sherlock said, 'Exactly. Now, I'm passing the phone to Bond, tell him to put his gun down.'

Sherlock held the phone out and James, keeping his gun up, quickly stepped forward to take it. He pressed the mobile to his ear and said, 'Hello?'

'James?' came Q's voice, and James breathed a sigh. 'What the hell is Sherlock doing there? Tell him to leave, now!'

'I don't know what he's doing here,' James said, and Sherlock smirked at him. 'I came home from my run and he was lying on the sofa.'

'Of course he was,' Q drawled. 'Tell him to leave, or I'll help Mycroft hack into 221B again.'

James had no idea who Mycroft was, but relayed Q's message to his brother. Sherlock scowled darkly and said, 'Tell Quillan that if he does that, I'll have Mycroft visit him at work- and bring baby pictures!'

Okay, so apparently this Mycroft had access to MI6. 'Q, he said-'

'Yes, I heard him,' Q muttered and James raised an eyebrow.

'Do you have my flat under surveillance again?' he queried, looking up, as though he could spot Q's cameras with eyesight alone.

'Of course,' Q said. 'After you disappeared for two months, I thought it prudent to make sure I always had eyes on you.'

'I already apologised for that,' James said.

'Whatever,' Q muttered. 'I have a lot of work to do, James. So, if there's anything else...?'

'I just wanted to make sure this Sherlock Holmes was who he said he was,' James said and lowered his gun. 'Bit of a prat, really.'

Sherlock glared at him, while Q laughed in his ear. 'Yes, he is,' the younger man said. 'I'll be home later.'

'I'll see you then,' James said, 'and we're talking about why you never mentioned a brother.'

Q swore and hung up, and James tossed Sherlock's phone back to him. The brunette caught it easily and slipped the mobile into his pocket, while James flicked the safety on his gun and walked across to place it on the counter that separated the kitchen from the sitting room.

'Can I get you anything?' James asked without turning, walking into the kitchen. He went for the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water.

'I can see why Quillan would sleep with you,' Sherlock commented, and James raised an eyebrow as he faced the man. 'You're aesthetically pleasing,' he added.

'Is that a weird way of saying you think I'm handsome?' James asked and twisted the lid of his water free.

Sherlock was scowling again, and James just smiled as he took a swig of water. 'What I can't understand,' the younger man continued, 'is why he'd want to date you.'

'I'm charming,' James said.

'Annoying,' Sherlock corrected.

'Funny.'

'An idiot.'

'I love him,' James said, and Sherlock went quiet. 'I see him as more than just a genius. He loves me because I know the real him, and he knows the real me.'

Sherlock sniffed and folded his arms, glancing around the flat as he did. 'Be that as it may,' he finally said, blue eyes finding James once more, 'you hurt him.'

James swallowed thickly. 'Right,' he said, 'about that-'

'Don't bother with your excuses, I've already heard them,' Sherlock interrupted. 'Quillan has forgiven you, that doesn't mean that others have.'

'I wasn't aware I needed others to forgive me,' James said.

Sherlock took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. 'Quillan and I don't see each other often. Our jobs are dangerous and time-consuming. We also don't get along well; ask the three of us, and we'll tell you that we prefer only keeping in contact through emails and texts.'

He paused, took another step closer, and leaned against the kitchen counter.

'That doesn't mean that I don't care for my brother, 007,' Sherlock said, eyes narrowed. 'You hurt him when you pulled your little disappearing act. Quillan doesn't usually ask either Mycroft or me for help, but when he does, we know it's important. Imagine our surprise when he asked if we'd heard where a double-oh agent had disappeared to?'

Sherlock wet his lips, and James stared at him.

'If you think you can break my brother's heart, only to walk back in and expect everything to be fine, then you are sorely mistaken. I'm here to tell you, James Bond, that I will be watching you. If you hurt my brother again, not even the British Government will protect you.' His lips quirked up in a smile. 'I'd even bet on the British Government being on my side.'

'So this is the "if you hurt him, I'll hurt you" speech?' James asked, finally finding his voice.

'No,' Sherlock said, leaning back. 'This is the "you've already hurt him" speech. If you hurt Quillan again, I will kill you, slowly. Your double-oh training won't save you, Bond.' He stood tall and straightened his scarf. 'Now that that's taken care of, I'll-'

A phone went off, and James and Sherlock blinked at each other before the taller man dug his iPhone back out. He made a face at the mobile, but answered it with a quick, 'Yes?'

James could vaguely make out someone shouting- a male someone- and watched as Sherlock's face twisted into a pout. He almost snickered, but decided to keep silent. He was a killing machine, yes, but he wasn't about to take Sherlock Holmes' threats lightly. People were capable of amazing things when the people they loved were threatened; James didn't doubt that if he hurt Q again, his older brother would murder him.

'Yes, John,' Sherlock sighed, and James raised an eyebrow. 'No, I wasn't-' He cut himself off and scowled. 'I was just warning him not to hurt Quillan.' He glared at James, as though the phone call was his fault, and James just smiled. 'Yes, I know that it's illegal,' Sherlock frowned. 'Quillan will understand... no, Mycroft didn't ask me... he's no doubt going to see to it himself.' Here he smirked evilly at James, and James took another drink of water, suddenly feeling cold. 'I'm hoping Mycroft will show me footage,' Sherlock continued, looking smug. He rolled his eyes and said, 'Fine, I'm coming home now... yes, I'll get milk.'

He hung up and glared at James, who said, 'The boyfriend wants you home, huh?'

Sherlock's scowl darkened. 'Don't forget what we discussed, Bond. I'll be watching.'

James just nodded, and watched as Sherlock left, his coat twirling dramatically behind him. It was only after the front door had slammed shut the James wondered how the hell Sherlock Holmes had broken in.

{oOo}

Lunch was put on hold when James realised he had nothing edible in his flat apart from scotch, gin, and vodka. He was feeling a bit bad after the whole Sherlock Holmes thing, and wanted to make it up to Q, despite the younger man saying he'd forgiven the blonde. James figured a nice, home-cooked meal would be appreciated, so showered, changed, and left.

There was a supermarket not far from James' flat, so he decided to walk. Though he'd rather take his car, he didn't fancy crawling through London's traffic for food.

He was walking down the street, thinking about the chicken pasta he'd cook, when a black car slid to a stop beside him, and a young woman stepped out.

'Mr Bond?'

James froze before turning, his hand brushing against the Sig Suaer he'd slipped into his holster before leaving the flat. 'Yes?' he said as he came face-to-face with a young brunette woman.

She was tapping away at a BlackBerry, and didn't look up as she said, 'Please step into the car, Mr Bond.'

James frowned. 'Excuse me?' He was getting really sick of being surprised; once was enough, twice in one day was unacceptable.

The woman finally looked up, one eyebrow rising above blue eyes. 'Please step into the car, Mr Bond,' she repeated.

'And why should I do that?' James asked.

'It's in your best interest,' the woman said, smiling when James frowned.

'Look,' the agent said, 'I have better things to do than get into cars with strangers. I'm not an idiot.'

'Mr Holmes would appreciate your co-operation,' the woman stated, and James froze.

'Mr Holmes?' he echoed.

'The elder,' the woman added.

James frowned. 'I've already spoken to Sherlock.'

The woman laughed, and James' frown darkened. Seriously, Q's family was really starting to piss him off.

'Not Sherlock Holmes,' the woman smiled, looking like a shark. 'Mycroft Holmes; the eldest.'

James felt like groaning and pounding his head against a brick wall. Right, so Mycroft was the eldest brother, was he? So James was going to get the same speech.

'Fine,' he said and stepped forward. The woman moved aside, letting James climb into the car. The woman joined him, shutting the door, and the car pulled into traffic.

'You can call me Anthea,' she offered, eyes already back on her BlackBerry.

James just nodded.

The car had just pulled into a dark warehouse before everything connected in James' head.

Mycroft Holmes.

The British Government.

Shit.

Q's eldest brother was M's superior.

{oOo}

James had never met Mycroft Holmes, but he'd heard of him. He was above pretty much every power in the British Government, with only a select few, as well as the Queen, in charge of him. He made the tough decisions, ones that the Prime Minister wasn't trusted with. Officially, he didn't even have a job title, but everyone in power knew that Mycroft Holmes was a dangerous individual.

And he'd just kidnapped James, because James had hurt his youngest brother.

How do I get myself into these situations? the double-oh wondered as he climbed out of the car. Despite it being the middle of the day, the warehouse was dark, with only the headlights of the car illuminating the large space.

There was a single chair sitting in the middle of the room, and before that stood whom James assumed was Mycroft Holmes.

He was younger than James had thought he'd be, probably only about forty, with thinning auburn hair, bright blue eyes, and a pale complexion. Like Sherlock, he was tall, but he wasn't as wiry as either of his siblings. He also radiated power, which neither Sherlock nor Q did, but one look at him told James that he was smart, if not smarter, than his brothers. Which was saying something, because Q was the most intelligent man James had ever met.

He was wearing a three-piece suit, expensive, and leaning against a long black umbrella. James wondered why he had an umbrella, considering the past few days had been mostly sunny. Maybe it was secretly a gun or a sword.

'Mr Holmes?' he questioned as he stood beside the chair, making no move to sit. No, if Mycroft wanted to threaten him, he could do it looking at James, not down at him. Then again, Mycroft was taller than James, so...

'Mr Bond,' Mycroft smiled, his eyes narrowing every so slightly as he looked the agent over. 'I've been looking forward to meeting you.'

'Oh?' James asked, raising his eyebrows. 'Funny, I hadn't heard of you until a few hours ago.'

Mycroft laughed and twirled his umbrella, eyes going to the ground as he spoke. 'Yes, I assumed as much,' he said. 'Although, I'd have thought you'd have heard of me. I am your superior, as well as Quillan's, after all.'

'I've heard of Mycroft Holmes, the British Government,' James nodded. 'Hadn't heard of Mycroft Holmes, the big brother.'

'I'm sure that Sherlock's already explained that he, Quillan and I have demanding jobs,' Mycroft said, blue eyes back on James. 'I don't get to see my brothers as much as I'd like. A phone call is all we can manage, unless something happens.'

'Something like me?' James asked.

Mycroft's smile widened, but got darker, and James felt his muscles tensing. He was sure he could take Mycroft in a fight, but still... the man was powerful. While Sherlock Holmes was dangerous, Mycroft Holmes had the power to back it up.

'Yes, something like you,' Mycroft inclined his head. 'I was, of course, aware that you were dating my brother. My position allows me to keep an eye on both Quillan and Sherlock.'

Spy on them, you mean, James thought.

'I was quite happy to stand aside and let Quillan make his own decisions,' Mycroft continued. 'He's twenty-seven, after all; old enough to decide who he dates. But when you disappeared, and he called me for help, well... then it became my business.'

'I've already apologised to Q,' James interrupted. 'He didn't forgive me right away; we worked on it, and we still are.'

'Yes, I'm aware,' Mycroft nodded. James wondered if there was anything Mycroft Holmes didn't know. 'Quillan has forgiven you, that doesn't mean that others have,' Mycroft said, unknowingly echoing his younger brother.

'I know,' James said.

'I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, 007,' Mycroft continued, 'but know that I will be watching, and my methods are far superior to Sherlock's. If you hurt Quillan again, death will be the least of your worries.'

James nodded, and Mycroft smiled brightly.

'Now that that's done, I'll let you get on your way,' Mycroft said.

'I'm not going to hurt him again,' James said, and Mycroft's eyes narrowed on him. 'At least I'm trying not to. I love your brother, and I'd do anything for him.'

Mycroft smiled briefly before he lifted his umbrella. 'See that you take care of him, Mr Bond.' James nodded, and the car behind him opened, Anthea once again stepping out, waiting for James. James turned, and he was about to climb in when Mycroft said, 'Oh, and James?'

James looked up.

'Quillan prefers lasagna over pasta,' Mycroft said.

And with that he turned and walked away.

{oOo}

James didn't know how to make lasagna. So he bought one and stuck it in the oven. Q was surprised when he walked into the flat to find James dishing it up, with salad and garlic bread on the side, and said, 'Oh God, what did my brothers do?'

'Threatened me, mostly,' James said. He picked up the plates and carried them to the table. 'I can see why you never mentioned them.'

Q sighed and dumped his coat, bag, and shoes by the sofa before joining James at the kitchen table. He kissed James softly and ran his fingers through the double-oh's hair, and James raised his eyebrows when the younger man pulled away.

'I should have mentioned them,' Q said as he sat, James sitting opposite him. 'And I should have known Sherlock would break-in and Mycroft would kidnap you.'

'How'd you know Mycroft kidnapped me?' James asked.

Q snorted as he said, 'That's his thing. He kidnapped John, Sherlock's boyfriend, and even Gregory, his boyfriend.'

'He kidnapped his own boyfriend?' James asked. 'And, wait, both your brothers are gay?'

'Mycroft's gay,' Q explained, 'Sherlock's demisexual, and I don't like labels, though I usually prefer men.' James had no idea what demisexual was, and made a note to either look it up or get Q to explain it later. 'Anyway, Gregory is a Detective Inspector with Scotland Yard, and he was the first to let Sherlock work cases for the police. When Mycroft became aware of his involvement in Sherlock's life, he kidnapped him. It's Mycroft's way of keeping an eye on the people we associate with, while also-'

'Scaring the crap out of your partners?' James interrupted.

'Exactly,' Q smiled. 'He and Gregory didn't start dating until maybe five years after they met. John was Sherlock's best friend and flat-mate, before Sherlock faked his death to bring down a criminal empire. And when he came back, he and John started shagging.'

'Right,' James breathed out. He was right; Q's family was insane.

'I know you're probably annoyed,' Q said, leaning over the table to grab James' hand, 'but they mean well. Mycroft, Sherlock and I, we've always been... different.' He glanced away and squeezed James' hand. 'We're all any of us had for a long, long time, so we're very protective of each other. As long as they don't think you're hurting me, they'll stay out of our lives.'

'I can deal with them, Q,' James said and squeezed the genius' digits. 'I've faced worse than two over-protective brothers.'

'Even when one's the British Government and the other's a consulting detective?' Q asked. 'Keep in mind that John's an army doctor, and Gregory's a Detective Inspector.'

'You Holmes men seem to have a type,' James commented.

Q laughed. 'Yes. Strong men who can keep up with our insanity.'

'Excuse me for saying it, but your brothers really are fucking insane,' James nodded.

'Yes, they are,' Q smiled and leaned back. He grabbed his knife and fork and stabbed at his salad. 'If you think they're bad,' he said, popping a tomato into his mouth, 'just wait until you meet Mummy.'

{THE END}

Author's Note: I was flicking through "Lost & Found" and remembered that I'd named Q "Quillan", which is what I usually name him when I write Bondlock stories. THEN I realised that Mycroft and Sherlock would both be super pissed when James just walked back into Q's life after disappearing for so long. And... this was born!

I don't know I there'll be anymore, most likely going by my muse, who we all know is insane. I hope you enjoyed the story.

Cheers,

{IBegToDreamAndDiffer}