Prologue
The blue glow of the large screen was the only illumination in the massive room.
Its dim light vaguely outlined the figure of a somewhat plump man, who was leaning on an umbrella. The thin hiss of the door opening didn't even seem to register on his thoughtful countenance.
The sound of someone hitting a desk and the curse that followed it, did however cause him to turn around.
"Goddammit! Why the hell are the lights off? I mean, who the hell stands brooding in the dark? It's all to keep up some idiotic idea that you're all mysterious and shit, isn't it?" A silky female voice grumped.
"Hello, Miss Taylor." Mycroft Holmes greeted in his usual cordial fashion, mere seconds before the lights flooded his retinas. He blinked exactly twice in response to this.
"Miss Taylor? What did I do to piss you off?" The woman in question asked, her green eyes wide as she threw her bomber jacket onto one of the desks and promptly sat down, putting her heeled feet on the desk as well.
"Perhaps the death of a very important lead in a terrorist cell?"
"Gah. Whatever- the cell is neutralized. Isn't that the point? I never thought you would be one to split hairs."
"You killed the entire cell. If word got out that you executed ten men..."
"I made a statement. They'll think twice before trying that shit again. Not to mention you'd never let it get out."
"Hm. Still, some people are saying that you've been given too much leeway. That you're a risk to us all."
"I am. So don't piss me off. I don't take betrayal too well."
"A fact I had noticed."
"Good. But you didn't call me here to have 'The Talk' with me. Does it have something to do with that man on the screen? Do I get to kill him?"
"NO. I mean, no. He is not to be harmed."
"Family, huh?"
"My brother... he has rather a gift for finding trouble it would seem."
"Ohhh no. No, no, no. A thousand times no. I can see where this is going, and no."
"And where is this going?"
"You want me to babysit him!"
"It would hardly be babysitting." Mycroft said mildly.
"Do I have to keep an eye on him and keep him out of trouble?"
"That would be rather a lovely thing to accomplish."
"Then it's babysitting." The woman said shortly.
"There is a rather bigger scope to this mission."
He flicked his hand over the touch screen and a new picture of a rather mousy looking man appeared on it.
"This is Jim Moriarty."
"Do I get to kick his ass?"
"Now that would be rather a lovely thing to do."
"Threatened your brother did he?"
"Indeed."
The woman rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her neatly waved, waist long brown hair.
"Don't mess with la familia, huh?"
"The man is a criminal mastermind for hire. Who knows what his possible terrorist ties he may have?"
"But mostly he screwed with your little brother."
"Merely one reason in a long list."
"But the one that made you call me in, instead of say Davies. Who's nice and mild mannered and by the book. After all, the last time I babysat anyone they ended up needing years of therapy."
"Yes, how is your younger brother?"
The woman shrugged. "He's talking now at least."
"That is a relief."
The woman gave him a long look. "What does he do?"
"He's a consulting detective. He has a website, it's rather informative."
"Do you Holmses just make up job titles to suit you?"
"Oh, yes. Mummy was an anthro-zoologist."
"... That one doesn't even make sense."
"It does, but it is rather strange."
"Right. So, do I get to shoot Moriarty on sight?"
"If he comes within a hundred sea miles of my brother I want you to make him... suffer."
"Hm. I don't know. I bet if I give your brother any psychological damage you'll make me suffer."
"Yes. However, I think that you will find that Sherlock is rather hard to inflict psychological damage upon."
"Riiiiiiiiiiiiiight… I'm not biting. Something's up."
"Nothing is 'up', Miss Taylor. But your special skill set will be valuable on this particular assignment."
At this the woman stopped inspecting her nails. "Really?"
"As I said. He is a consulting detective. He is able to tell things through mere observation that most people would not be able to tell even after knowing each other for years."
"And you want me to infiltrate his circle and keep an eye on him?"
"A most challenging task, I assure you. That is why I called upon you."
"So, what? Are you going to let me pretend to think about this, or are you just going to spirit me away in the night to do your bidding, oh master?"
Mycroft gave her a small smile. "We're all adults here, Miss Taylor. As you've so clearly pointed out- this is my brother we're talking about."
The woman snorted, pulled out her iPad and promptly downloaded his files on Sherlock. "So, definitely one that I have to do your bidding on. Nice to know. I'll be sure to wear something flame retardant for when this goes to hell in a handbasket."
So it was that Davies found her a few hours later pouring over 'The Science of Deduction', her target's blog.
"Hey Christine."
He got a grunt for his troubles. Leaning over her shoulder, he didn't even flinch as she grabbed his nose and twisted it until he backed off. He'd had his nose broken the first time she'd done that.
"The Science of Deduction? What is that?"
"The demented ravings of an obviously brilliant mind. Why do you care?"
"I always care. It's part of my charm." He shrugged as he settled into a chair he'd pulled up outside her personal space.
"Huh. I fail to see how you could ever be charming."
"Ouch, Chris. Just ouch."
"Good. I was afraid that being stuck reading all day I wouldn't be able to fill my quota of people to piss off."
Daniel Davies laughed at her. "Yes, well. I'm going for coffee. Want to join me?"
She turned baleful green eyes at him. "No. I do not want to join you. I'm busy."
"Fine then." Davies shrugged at her. "I'll bring you some. Black no sugar right?"
"No. Today I want milk and three sugars. And a chelsea bun. Oh! And a tub of Haagen Daz ice cream! Chocolate of course."
"How do you eat that much and still stay this scrawny?"
"I am not scrawny! And I do not look like a boy!"
"You went undercover as a boy once..."
"Shut up, or I will hurt you."
"Alright, alright! I'm leaving." He put up his hands in a placating manner.
"Good."
Davies walked away, shaking his head. Weird people you met in this business.
NX-SH-NX
When Christine finally managed to stumble into a state of awareness again, it was to find her desk cluttered with wrappers and empty coffee cups and Red Bulls.
Glancing at her watch she realized that she had just lost three whole days to her research into her employer's younger brother. Which was a problem because if the older Holmes was all tightly controlled, behind the curtains menace then the younger one…
Well, the younger one was just a bloody menace. Getting into all sorts of trouble, attracting psychos and blowing up public pools. She wasn't sure whether Mycroft wanted her to keep him safe, preserve London or keep him on a fucking leash.
Come to think of it, putting him on a leash might accomplish all that.
A snore to her right and her glock was drawn... pointed at Davies.
Christine scowled. Why Davies insisted on babying her, she would never know. The man was had serious issues. And he insisted on focusing them on her. Like she wasn't one of the most deadly killers out there, but rather the scared little girl from…
Another snore and he shifted in his chair.
Rolling her eyes, Chris stowed her gun and got up to shake his shoulder. The man woke with a start and stared blearily at her.
"Chris? Done with the research then?"
"Yeah. Now go home and get some sleep will you? Hasn't your fiance been breaking down your door?"
"Nope." He said, stretching to get the kinks out of his spine. "Told her I was out of town on business."
"You are aware of the fact that I am not a helpless maiden, right?"
He grinned at her. "Oh, I know that when it comes to a fight you're deadly. But when it comes to your personal care? What would you do without me doing coffee and craving runs?"
"... Okay. Fine. You feed me. Go home. Sleep with your fiance. Have crazy monkey sex!"
"Chris!"
"Okay, okay. Have missionary sex."
"... That's not really any less disturbing. What's your deal with my sex life?"
"Hey, I'm living vicariously through you. Go pick out china and wedding dresses and stuff. I'm going home. To my shower. And clean clothes."
"Alright then." Davies got up and stretched some more. Then he grabbed his car keys and jingled them. "Need a lift?"
"... How did you know?"
"You always seem to total your car in a mission."
"I... damn. I do. Oh well."
Davies merely laughed again and they headed for the car.
"Speaking of cars- I want the new Aston Martin this time. I don't get why they always stick me in the cheap ass cars. I mean, what's the use of being a spy if I don't get the glamorous cars?"
"Protecting your country?"
"What kind of bullshit is that?"
"That's why I joined!"
"Yeah right."
"Why did you join?"
"Too many Bond movies."
NX-SH-NX
When Christine awoke the next morning, she rolled over in her King size bed and stared at the bedside clock.
09:34.
Perfect. She needed to do some serious shopping.
Getting out of bed she padded on bare feet toward her coffee maker, clad only in her boyleg panties and her bra. The coffee maker had of course made a fresh cup as programmed and she filled her huge Garfield mug to the brim. No milk today, but four sugars to get her going.
She opened her fridge and stared at it before closing it. She'd have to go grocery shopping as well. All she had was a salami that was so old it was about to get up and walk out on its own.
Okay. Shopping it was then. After her third cup of coffee. And then she would go in to the office and start making some serious back story.
She'd be cutting off Moriarty's balls soon enough.
When she'd finally finished enough coffee to keep her going through the day, she grabbed her Dolce and Gabanna purse, threw on her leather jacket and her favourite pair of slingbacks and headed out the door.
She reappeared moments later cursing.
She had forgotten pants. Who the hell forgot to put on pants? Sometimes she just wondered whether she should put post-it notes all over her apartment. You know, ones saying 'Remember pants' and 'Don't tell telemarketers that you could make sure their body was never found if they don't shut up this instant'.
That did not end well.
With her legs firmly ensconced in a pair of black skinny jeans she headed back out and caught a taxi.
"Where to then, missy?" The cabby asked, typically chatty. God, she missed having a car.
"Harrods."
"Right ho. Lots of money to be spent at Harrods you know, must be a nice job you got yourself there..."
The cabby kept up a steady stream of words the entire trip there. Chris was just about ready to throttle him when they stopped in front of Harrods. She payed him quickly and stepped into the shopping heaven that was her favourite department store.
She spent the entire morning and a bit of the afternoon looking for the perfect clothes for her mission. Things that would support the back story she had made up. Frumpy jumpers and baggy trousers, coupled with a new frame on her prescription glasses.
Finally, she stepped back into the brisk British afternoon and hailed another cab.
When she arrived back at the office, she put down her bags at her desk and dropped off the bill at Mycroft's secretary (Selena today).
Then she headed for her favourite part of the building- the tech department.
"Morning Olliver!" She sang out, causing the young man to turn toward her.
"Chris! How are you?"
"Great thanks. So, what do you have for me?"
"Ah, some really brilliant tech we just finished. See here? The old pen-is-actually-a weapon trick, with a twist. See, if you press the red ink down, then it lets out a high power lazer. If you press the blue ink down then you get an electric voltage of 2000V. Quite enough to kill someone. And if you depress the green, you get a high pitched sound that will cause the capillaries in the target's brain to explode."
"Uhm..."
"Oh, no. it's perfectly safe, since the nose of the pen directs the sound and voltage in a very concentrated area. As long as you're holding it it gets pinpoint accuracy."
"So what does the black button do?"
"It gives a lovely calligraphy nib with water proof, fade resistant ink."
"... Really."
"Yes. Really. It is, after all, a pen."
"Right. Got anything else?"
"Just the standard things- listening devices, radio shoes, and a new car."
"Really?"
"Yup. Aston Martin Vanquish, tripped out with the latest weaponry. What did you do to get the Bossman to give you that one?"
"The most hellish mission anyone can imagine. But…I'm... going to need a different car."
"What?"
"I know, I know. But I need a van. A really old, beat up van. Like yours! That's perfect!"
"You want to trade your Vanquish for my van?"
"Well... only for the mission."
"No."
"No?"
"I know what you do to cars! And I love Stacey!"
"... Stacey? Really?"
"Shut up."
"Please?"
"No! I love Stacey far too much."
"Look, if I bust her I will... do your bidding for a month."
"Really?"
"Yup. Anything goes. Except sex."
"Damn. Still..."
"It's a pretty sweet deal. Especially since you get such a fancy car..."
"Fine. But not a scratch on her, you hear me?"
"Of course not. Trust me."
"Oh God. Stacey is going to die."
NX-SH-NX
A/N: Alrighty, new story, new fandom. Please note that this is a Sherlock/OC story. It's not going to be a cutesy or a fluffy story. There will be moments of fluff, and my special brand of humour (read: insanity), but in general it will be me going in and hitting these characters with a bat called 'Nightmarish things' (as my beta, the lovely DeadTeenWalking put it) and then I'll sneak past the nurses and poke them with a sharp stick of 'Traumatising past events'.
That said, it will go a lot faster than Black and Blue, so there is action pretty soon in this story by my standards. It is also completely and utterly AU.
I deal in character development, and my plots are strange and twisty. Sherlock and Chris(tine) won't be falling into anything soon. Never mind bed. And there won't be a 'happy ending'. It'll be a hopeful ending.
And now to the WARNINGS: Blood, gore, mind games, mentions of child abuse and inappropriate use of household objects. Not to mention those sticks I mentioned. These parts are all clearly marked. You have been warned, so no blaming me if you read those bits and you get scarred for life.
If you're still reading this then... by all means join me on this twisty road.