Chapter 1: Assemble
"He's always so dramatic," a tall, dark haired man mumbled through a slender pale hand. He was sitting, ruefully curled up, on a small couch in a large, handsome room. The blond man beside him smiled.
"So glad you're above all that."
A tall wooden door behind the large desk in the room opened quietly. Another man, dressed in a sharp suit and carrying an umbrella, entered.
"Mycroft, I abhor being escorted from my own home by your lackeys." Sherlock spat at his brother.
"I know of no other more effective technique."
Mycroft offered a pinched smile as he took a seat.
"I need you and John," he said. John noticed Sherlock's demeanor change slightly at this statement. The only reason Sherlock ever helped Mycroft was to stroke his own ego. Mycroft was well aware of this, and was practiced at playing off of it.
"We have more guests arriving. I'll brief you when we have everyone."
Sherlock scowled.
"Who else could you possibly need?"
Mycroft brushed away the arrogance of his brother's comment with a raised eyebrow.
"Experts," he said.
John and Sherlock were sitting on the small couch, quietly drinking tea, when a strange sound filled the room. It was electric: a million tiny cogs turning as rapidly as possible, cranking out static that filled every atom. John and Sherlock turned around in their seats to witness a blue police box materialize in the middle of the room.
John gaped. Sherlock's eyebrows shot up.
The blue door opened, and a gangly man in a brown pin-striped suit staggered out. He readjusted the rectangular glasses beneath his mass of disheveled brown hair, and turned to peer back into the box.
"Coming, then?"
A short blond girl popped out of the box, smiling hugely.
"Right!"
Mycroft had returned to the room with a tray laden with tea cups, and was looking exasperatedly at the pair before him.
"Really, in the office again?" he said.
"Parking is hard to find outside Buckingham palace," The Doctor said, giving Rose a wink. She grinned at him.
"Well, have a seat and some tea," Mycroft said, frowning as he eyed the discolored carpet around the Tardis.
"Ah, tea! No-one makes tea like the British, eh?" The Doctor rubbed his hands together as he took a seat on another couch.
"What about that one planet, Doctor?" Rose asked, sitting beside him. "Um, oh you know, Florana."
"They did have good tea, didn't they?" The Doctor said, wide-eyed. "Alright then, no-one makes tea like the British or the Floranians, eh?"
Rose laughed and leaned affectionately against The Doctor. Sherlock hunched forward to set his tea cup on the small table.
"We meet again, Doctor. You have a new face."
The Doctor shrugged.
"Well, you know, after you swallow the Time Vortex, it's usually time for a change. Actually, it was this one, here, that did it. Can't take her anywhere."
Rose's eyebrow perked up.
"Sorry, can we go back a bit? A police-box just materialized." John said.
"The Doctor is a 900 year old extraterrestrial being that travels the space-time continuum in a blue phone box."
Sherlock explained this in his really John, do keep up tone. John, bug-eyed, poured another cup of tea for himself. He wondered if Mycroft had any brandy to add.
"And your name is The Doctor? Doctor who?" John came out of his daze momentarily to address this, the most pertinent issue.
The Doctor smiled over his tea.
"That's right."
Suddenly, the door leading to the hall and the rest of the palace flew open, and a man with short brown hair and big eyes entered the room. Another man, with longer hair and a more subdued air followed.
"What's up, England?" the first one said, spreading his arms and smiling.
"Oh, Mycroft, you brought the American?" Sherlock whined, turning to his brother with a look of disgust.
"And England's most famous couple." Dean said, winking.
"We are not a couple." John announced, almost automatically.
"I think that he meant Rose and The Doctor." Sam said, eyes narrowing.
"Oh…"
"Please, have a seat, Winchesters," Mycroft offered. "Something to drink?"
"Anything alcoholic. Still trying to shake off that flight. You know, I would take a fight with a demon over a plane ride any day," Dean said, striding to the last of the couches and flopping onto it with a sigh. Sam sat beside him.
"Coffee for me, thanks," he said.
Mycroft nodded and sent something from his phone.
"The Winchesters!" The Doctor cried, smiling. "Been a while, eh, boys?"
"Too long, Doc," Dean said.
"We never seem to find the time to drop by America," Rose said. "Spent a lot of time on Mars lately, though."
Sherlock had resumed his curled up position, and was looking disdainfully over at Dean. John prodded him.
"Sherlock, who are they? What in the world is going on?"
"Got a new friend, Sherly?" Dean asked, grinning. Sherlock glared.
"Please don't speak, Dean, you lower the IQ of the entire block."
Sam offered his hand, cutting off his brother's (surely unkind) retort.
"Sherlock, my name is Sam Winchester, I'm Dean's brother."
Sherlock shook his hand.
"I've heard of you, Sam. I had the…task of acquainting myself with your brother several years ago here in London."
"I've heard about that case," Sam said, smiling. "There was a chancellor's ghost?"
"That would surely be your brother's explanation," Sherlock said haughtily. Sam pursed his lips.
"Dear brother, please refrain from alienating our guests at least until we've finished tea," Mycroft said, taking a seat at his desk and clasping his hands to rest under his chin.
"Thank you for coming, everyone. I have a, well, a case, I suppose, that requires each of your unique specialties. Truthfully, I only need The Doctor, Sherlock and Dean. The rest of you are free to leave."
"I don't work without my partner," came from the three men simultaneously, earning each of them an affectionate look from said partner. Mycroft's brow crinkled.
"As I expected. Very well. To all six of you, then, this case is of top priority and secrecy. Code red, decreed by the UN, if that gives you an idea of how significant it is. America wanted to send over representative to aid in the situation, and we have dealt with the Winchester family before, so we thought them an appropriate choice. Their unique knowledge should prove useful, regardless."
Sam and Dean were looking at each other, trying to decide exactly how they felt about having been "dealt with" before. Their drinks arrived and they soon forgot the thought.
"Sorry, what situation?" John cut in. He seemed to have recovered from the appearance of the Tardis, and was now looking at Mycroft with that glint in his eye that always preceded deep thought. Sherlock smiled with one corner of his mouth.
"An item of national importance has gone missing, and we highly suspect unusual activities to be the cause of its disappearance."
"Of what's disappearance?" Rose asked. Mycroft eyed her coldly.
"Patience. It is extremely difficult to categorize the precise nature of our thief, but it is indisputably of some non-human design. We hope to pair my brother's talents of deduction with Mr. Winchester's and The Doctor's knowledge. You will all, of course, be paid handsomely upon the retrieval of this item."
Rose opened her mouth to ask her previous question.
"The item," Mycroft continued loudly, "is a small memory stick containing exceptionally detailed international defense plans. I cannot stress the importance of the retrieval of this device. In the wrong hands this information could prove catastrophic."
"And how do you know that these 'hands' are non-human?" the Doctor asked, thoughtfully tapping his sonic screwdriver against his thigh.
"Security cameras," Mycroft replied.
"Obviously effective," Sherlock scoffed. His brother narrowed his eyes.
"What did you catch on tape?" Sam asked, leaning around his brother to face Mycroft.
"That's the thing, Mr. Winchester, we caught nothing. A sweep of the area revealed unusually high levels of gamma radiation and nothing else. No fingerprints, no dust, absolutely nothing. The memory stick simply vanished."
"And now we have to fetch it for you," Sherlock sighed, "Mycroft, you constantly lower my confidence in the British government."
"Have I piqued your interest?" Mycroft asked, ignoring his brother to regard Dean and The Doctor. "Do I have your help?"
Dean looked at Sam, who nodded.
"First honest job we'll probably ever do," Dean said, grinning. "Count us in."
The Doctor and Rose looked at one another briefly.
"Well, I suppose Mars has been getting a bit dull lately," the Doctor said. Rose giggled.
Mycroft's eyes fell on Sherlock.
"Well?"
Sherlock was not particularly interested in this case. It wasn't exactly his area of expertise, and he certainly didn't want Mycroft to think he was doing him any favors. Sherlock was, however, achingly fascinated by the Doctor, and had had little time to properly analyze the time lord, who always seemed to vanish as soon as he appeared.
"Fine," he said, glancing fleetingly at John, who offered a curt nod.
"Brilliant," Mycroft said, relief filling his voice, "I would like to take you to the safe where the memory stick disappeared from-"
Mycroft stopped mid-sentence when the sleek, dark phone on his desk began to buzz. Mycroft inspected it for a moment before standing from his desk.
"Apologies, I must take this. Entertain yourselves in the least destructive way possible, I won't be long."
"My dear Barrack," Mycroft could be heard saying as he swept out of the room. John slumped back against the couch.
"Alright, Sherlock, I agree."
Sherlock looked at him inquisitively.
"Mycroft is one for the dramatics."
