Title: The Universe is Rarely So Lazy

Summary: Sherlock Holmes has a problem. How can he track down and get rid of the interstellar criminal James Moriarty's right hand man when he's stuck in the brig, captured by space pirates? Marco, captain of the starship Phoenix and First Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, has a problem. How can he retrieve encrypted information off a device his crew liberated from a Collective World's ship and what the heck should he do with the captured spy who was attempting to do the same thing? A space AU character study involving the meeting of two highly intelligent minds namely Sherlock Holmes and Marco the Phoenix.

Parings: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson mentioned (slash goggles can be applied or omitted at your preference)

Disclaimer: I own no rights, I make no profit. Created solely for the amusement of myself and any readers who might happen upon it.


Chapter 1 – A Study in Pirates

Sherlock Holmes was bored, B-O-R-E-D, and what was worse was it was his own damn fault. If he hadn't been so distracted by the information he'd found in the Intelligence Officer's official communications tablet (which for some strange reason was called a peeda in the common parlance) he would have heard the pirate security forces breaking into said Intelligence Officer's quarters and been able to hide the peeda, himself or both. It had been a good plan up to that point. Get press-ganged as a messmate under his pseudonym Henry Sigerson on the Collective World's Spaceship Endeavor and wait for an opportunity to hack into the ship's Intelligence Officer's files to get any and all information on his quarry. An attack by the Whitebeard Pirates seemed to be a perfect diversion. Unfortunately those pirates were not after the standard fare: plunder, booty and supplies though the Endeavor was carrying those in fair measure. No, these pirates were also after information. All of which meant that he'd ended up captured and cooling his heels in the brig of the Moby Dick, for the last four days.

Of course his boredom was not a complete waste of time. There was only one thing more boring than being a prisoner and that was guarding a prisoner. Bored guards inevitably gossiped which provided bored prisoners with all sorts of interesting information and deductive fodder. For example, over the last several days Sherlock had learned quite a bit about the Whitebeard Pirates, their command structure, and their fleet starting with the Moby Dick itself. The Moby Dick was not, as commonly assumed, a carrier class starship that patrolled the fringe of Collective World space along a range of star systems known as The Line. Instead it was an artifact of the organizational structure of the Whitebeard Pirates. The Whitebeard Pirates were divided up into divisions. Each division had a number of ships one of which was designated the division flagship. When the division flagships linked up with a frigate class ship named Queer Dick's Hatband the Moby Dick was formed. Thus, technically Sherlock was only in the Moby Dick's brig by dint of the fact that the ship he was currently on happened to be linked to the others. Physically he was located on a ship which, when unlinked, was called Phoenix and just happened to be the flagship of the First Division, Whitebeard's intelligence forces.

Along with overhearing all the boring personal gossip, more than he ever wanted to know about certain sporting events and betting sprinkled with a large number pop cultural references that he didn't quite understand Sherlock had also learned that some of the information on the peeda he'd been hacking had caused quite a bit of upset in the Whitebeard command ranks. In fact, there had been enough information to send most of the Division commanders scattering in some of the smaller ships to track down various leads and leaving the First Division Commander, one Marco no surname given, in charge of the Moby Dick ship configuration. Sherlock could only presume that one reason was they needed the extra computing power to crack the peeda's secondary firewalls.

Sherlock was sitting cross legged on the bunk in his cell archiving all the information he had gathered into his mind palace. His brother would be very interested in some of the tidbits he had learned. Bits and pieces about various Whitebeard commanders, crew members and their alleged peccadillos would surely be useful if, no when, his brother would deal with the pirates in the future. Sherlock was mostly finished when he was interrupted by a loud cough from the other side of the force field. He looked up to see the Phoenix's security officer, a petite female with short curly brown hair, flanked by two beefy crewmembers.

"Sigerson," she barked at him. "Front and center, hands through the barrier."

Sherlock stood up and moved to comply. If he hadn't she would have engaged the cell's stun field and he would have awoken wherever they wanted him with a killer hangover. No, it was better to be cooperative and keep his wits about him.

It only took him a few moments to move to the force field and place his hands through the outlined opening. As soon as he did so one of the oversized goons slapped a pair of grav-cuffs on his wrists. This might prove to be interesting, he thought, as he pulled his hands back and let the grav-cuffs attract pulling his arms around and behind his back until they clicked together. Only then did the security officer punch in the code that dropped the force field at the front of his cell.

"Come along then," she ordered indicating that he should precede her out of the brig.

Tactically smart. She wasn't under estimating him despite the flanking presence of the two burly guards. They proceeded down the ship's corridors in an awkward sort of procession. One guard slightly ahead followed by Sherlock with the other guard at his shoulder leaving the Security Officer to bring up the rear. As they walked Sherlock managed to get a good look at her and he felt a pang of longing. Her short stature, military bearing and no nonsense orders made him think of a certain doctor who at this point believed him dead. He mentally gave himself a shake. Sentiment would do him no good at this juncture; it might lead him to underestimate her by inexact comparisons. He already knew she was a decent fighter from direct experience. This was no delicate flower. All in all she had shown a high degree of competence in a relatively small package just like…blast.

The lead guard stopped at a door, tapped politely then opened it. Sherlock glanced around orienting himself. Officer country, presumably the ward room, he was about to meet one if not more of the Whitebeard commanders.

The wardroom was relatively bland and did not provide many clues about the personality of the Captain. That in of itself was telling; he had very little attachment to the trappings of power. So, onward to look at the people; there were two present. The first was a petite blue-haired female who glanced up at him briefly before returning her attention to her peeda. He didn't need the swirled tattoo that covered a good portion of one side of her face to deduce her planet of origin, Kenoria. The tattoo though told him her affinity was water and that she was most likely a psi-talent to boot. Another not so fragile flower; this commander valued talent and ability regardless of the package it arrived in.

Sherlock turned his attention to the commander. He was a square jawed large man with a shock of blond hair. He was wearing a bright purple shirt and navy trousers that were so dark they might have well been black with a yellow garter, complete with tassel, above his left knee. The only reason one could tell the color of the trousers was the contrast with the shiny black boots. You really couldn't miss the boots. They were new enough not to have any wear patterns and they were currently propped on the table as the commander lounged in his chair. His eyes were half closed, a bored sleepy look resided on his not unhandsome face. Sherlock wasn't fooled. The tension in the man's body belied the pose. No the commander was fully alert, aware, and highly intelligent. Dangerous.

"Sigerson as you requested," the security chief said from behind him.

No honorific, that went with the room's décor Sherlock noted. This meant that he was looking at Marco, the First Division Commander and Captain of the Phoenix.

Marco removed his boots from the table, sat up and lazily looked him over. "Eh Lex?" he said cocking his head. "Isn't that a bit of overkill?" He waived his hand languidly presumably to encompass the grav-cuffs and the two burly guards.

"No. You didn't see him fight when we cornered him in the IO's office hacking into official secret service issued peeda," Lex replied.

"Henry Sigerson," the blue-haired girl read off the tablet without looking up. "Unremarkable individual from the Skandia system; press ganged onto the Endeavor three months ago; assigned to the mess. Not happy but no significant disciplinary record. There's nothing specific Marco but the background is too pat."

"Eh," Marco sat forward and leaned his elbows on the table never taking his eyes off Sherlock, "Biometrics Eve?"

Eve? His brain stuttered laboring under Marco's now intense gaze. Sherlock hadn't overheard any gossip about an Eve at this level of the command structure. Oh! Yeve, short for Yevette, the science officer and second in command.

"Everything matches but it was too easy to find especially with his lackluster history," Yeve looked up at him now.

"So...," Marco drawled "What does a messmate named Sigerson, who in all probability is not really named Sigerson, want with the IO of the Endeavor's peeda?"

"And that doesn't even mention the mish-mash fighting style or the hacking," chimed in Lex.

Sherlock decided to take a chance, "Like you have any right to criticize my style. Yours is even more of a mix with the Judo, ti-chi, Kempo and street tricks from Tashmir in the Persian system. Despite all that you still haven't learned to throw a proper punch."

Marco's eyebrow went up at the litany, "He's got you pegged Lex," was his mild comment.

"In partial answer to your question," Sherlock continued as if Marco hadn't even spoken, "I'm going to assume that the enemy of the allies of my enemy would at least be somewhat amenable to mutual cooperation."

"Eh?" Marco relaxed back into his chair and was looking sleepy again, "So who's the enemy and who's the ally then?"

Sherlock scoffed, "Your enemy? It's all over the quadrant that you've had someone high up turn on you. Unfortunately it's worse than that. I only got into the first level of the secure files but what I saw indicates that you still have a leak."

"What!" Lex squawked from behind him. "Marco, we vetted all of Te…the traitor's associates."

"Obviously your problem isn't a known associate then," Sherlock remarked. "Either that or you missed someone," he grinned a sarcastic smile at her.

"I need to go look at that intel," Lex directed her remark to her commander who simply nodded. She turned on her heel and left.

Sherlock would bet that she had broken into a run a micro-tick after the wardroom door shut.

Marco, in the meantime had turned his attention to Yeve, "How far had they progressed with the tablet when you left?"

"Decrypting the first set of secure files. Near as I can tell there's another level beyond. It's a polymorphic code wall that's going to be a bitch to crack without a passcode."

"You better go and ride herd on Lex then. There's no telling what she'll do if the intel isn't ready by the time she gets there. You two go with her," the commander ordered.

Yeve stood and stowed her tablet. She paused halfway to the door. "You sure you don't want to…" she started at the same time one of the guards shifted to indicate that he'd prefer to stay guarding Sherlock.

"Stop attempting to cosset me Yevette. I didn't get to be First Division Commander on just my ravishing good looks after all."

Yeve wrinkled her nose at him, "Who's good looks? Yours? If you say so sir."

Sherlock wondered about the sudden appearance of the honorific. It seemed to be some sort of inside joke.

Marco glared at his second for a fraction of a tick but didn't respond. He only waived a hand and addressed the guard who had shifted, "Go. If there still is a traitor on board you'll be needed more there than here."

The guard grunted in agreement and followed Yeve and his fellow guard out of the room closing the door and engaging the lock behind him.

Sherlock watched them go then turned back to Marco. At the same time he finished picking the grav-cuff on his right wrist and snaked his hand out of the circlet. Bringing his hands around he did the same for the left one and dropped the still linked cuffs on the table.

Marco cocked his head in a bird like motion. "Clever. Not many people know that those things have a manual override. Fewer still know how to engage it." He looked down at the cuffs then cocked his head in the other direction. "So who are you really and what do you want now that you've got my undivided attention?"

Sherlock rolled his shoulders which were stiff after the stint in the grav-cuffs then glanced at one of the chairs.

"I'm not stopping you eh?"

Sherlock stalked over and sat, "I wasn't joking when I offered you my cooperation."

"But you haven't yet told me what you want or what you are willing to give up. Without knowing that I don't know if the deal you are offering is worth my while."

Sherlock took a good look at the commander. He was confident. It was clear from his demeanor that he felt in complete control of the situation despite the fact that a known dangerous prisoner had slipped his restraints right in front of him. He was being forthright in is interest in a deal but there were these odd tics of behavior that Sherlock couldn't quite interpret. The side to side head cocking, almost as if Marco wasn't used to binocular vision, was the most obvious but the more they interacted the more Sherlock noticed other things. Little movements that were not quite human in tone. A human raised by another species perhaps? If so which one? Could be important in that it might affect how the commander would react to what Sherlock needed to tell him.

"As for what I want," Sherlock was thinking fast about how exactly to phrase things to be as inoffensive as possible. It wouldn't do to get himself killed before obtaining the final piece of information that would allow him to return home. "I, like you, need the information on that peeda. I've been chasing my quarry over several star-systems always being a step or two behind. I most recently learned that he's taken up with a Collective World's operative, code named Blackbeard. The events of several months ago made it obvious that Blackbeard was one Marshall Teach most recently of the Whitebeard Pirates."

Marco winced slightly at that but otherwise didn't react.

Sherlock took that as incentive to continue. "Given the connections and several other factors I knew I'd need to get into the Collective's intelligence databases to obtain what I needed. I sized up the potential methods to get in and figured my best chance was to get to one of the shipboard databases. The information might be slightly dated since they only do a general update when they hit the inner world beacons but anything crucial would be squirted via a high beam transmission. An added benefit would be that any errors caused by my hacking would not be noticed until the next general update and I'd be long gone by then."

Marco nodded slightly then commented, "You were on Nordica. The Endeavor was the first outbound CWS ship through."

"Your attack was an opportunity I couldn't afford to miss."

"So," Marco leaned forward and put his elbows on the table, "What'cha proposing as a deal?"

"I help you get through that polymorphic code wall, you give me the information in the Collective database on my quarry along with free access to anything you might have on him from your sources then drop me off somewhere with decent space lane connectivity."

"Hmmm," Marco was now resting his chin on one hand. "Why do you think you can help us through the polymorphic code?"

Sherlock smirked, "I know who invented it…and I'm smarter than he is."

Marco raised an eyebrow at that but didn't say anything.

"and I have a couple of ideas about passcodes that may make the hacking it moot."

There was a long pause as the commander weighed Sherlock's proposal. Finally he said, "We just might be able to do business depending of course upon just who is your quarry."

This was going to be tricky Sherlock thought. Too much information and Marco would put things together and figure out exactly who he was and why he was doing what he was doing; not enough and the First Division Commander might just presume that his quest was unjust and refuse to help. It would all depend upon what Marco knew from his own sources which given that he was purportedly the intelligence chief for the Whitebeard pirates could be as extensive as Mycroft's. Time to take another chance.

"The Tiger Hunter, Sebastian Moran," was all he said.

The eyebrow went up again. "Interesting. You don't think The Consultant is going to have anything to say about you taking out his enforcer?"

Marco, it seemed, was a bit behind on his information. Sherlock decided to enlighten him.

"I have it on good authority that the Consultant met a rather messy end after tangling with the Ice Man and his people in New Britannia. That's why you've not been seeing much activity from the criminal element if you track such things. Too much infighting and jockeying for position. Although it is probably why Moran is at least nominally working with Teach."

"In that case, I think we have a deal Mr. Sigerson."

Sherlock mentally winced. The way the commander said his alias raised all sorts of alarm bells. He remained physically relaxed but mentally prepared himself to move at a moment's notice. Sherlock didn't know if he could take Marco in a fight. He couldn't even begin to calculate the odds based on the information he had presently and those troubling non-human tics.

"I won't even bother to register anything but your prisoner status in our records. I think you'll just be an unnamed source as far as the data stream is concerned. Although I can pass a secure message to the Ice Man if you want. I imagine he is a bit frantic right now."

Damn, Sherlock thought, this changes quite a few things. He would need to recalculate his approach if Marco knew Mycroft personally. No, he'd need to reinforce his secondary cover as an elite agent regardless, since Marco appeared to be offering an available conduit directly to his brother. Sherlock's brain whirled with the possibilities only to be brought to a dead stop by Marco's next words.

"You know your disguise is good enough to fool the large majority of people except for the fact that you really do have your father's nose."

Bugger.