Disclaimer: I don't own BBC Sherlock or the Firefly-verse. Also, some of the dialogue was copy-and-pasted(ish) since I couldn't find a better way to say what I wanted, but I tried not to do that for most of this story since that's lame.


Year 2519.


The airlock doors suctioned closed behind the group with a mechanical hiss, closing seconds before Masir's engines rumbled awake. As the ship lifted into the air under Anderson's steady hands, there remained a tenuous, unbalanced silence on the cargo bay floor.

It certainly wasn't the best start for a two-day long journey in an enclosed space.

Captain Watson didn't much care, standing with his hands crossed over his chest and a dark, tight expression on his face as he looked over the passengers and his two unsure-looking crew. If everyone kept to themselves—or at least, if the Core tosser did—they could do some easy flying and get paid enough gold and silver to skip no less than four of the more undesirable jobs they had lined up.

His gaze skimmed over the two attractive women passengers, both looking to be in their early thirties or late twenties with full cheeks and laughing eyes, landing on the older lady in practical clothes, before ultimately being drawn back to the suspicious umbrella man.

No one seemed to know what to do now.

Molly coughed when the quiet didn't seem to end, and then pinkened when the sound attracted too much attention from the mix of confused and wary people. "Sorry," she apologized, ducking her head and tucking a strand of hair behind her left ear.

John shook himself, clearing the wool from his mind, and scanned her and his second-in-command. Greg's eyes met his, narrowed calculatingly, and the doctor turned his head to look at the pile of too-large-for-the-dorms suitcases.

"Well!" Greg exclaimed suddenly with a burst of energy, and the entire group eyed him except for the Core man, who sighed under his breath, slumping. "How about Molly here shows you ladies, and gentleman," he nodded to the only male passenger, "to the passenger dorms, while I unload the larger packages off to the side of the cargo hold."

"Thanks," the pretty blonde beamed, and Greg looked away before her friend with the stylish curls could throw him another suggestive wink.

"That's very kind of you two," the elderly woman added lightly to both him and Molly. She had a kind face, lined with age and a history of smiles, and he decided right then he liked her. "You know, I don't think we've all been introduced," she reproached gently, "I'm Mrs Hudson. And you, dear?"

Greg smiled at her, bowing his head. "Greg Lestrade, first officer." He raised an open palm to wave at John and Molly, respectively, "and you all know Captain Watson. Next to me is the wonderful Molly Hooper, our mechanic."

Molly grinned, scrubbing a hand down her coveralls before offering a jaunty wave. "Hello!" she chirped.

The blonde woman from before tilted her head a tiny bit, watching them with an endearing smile. "I'm Mary Morstan, and my friend here is Janine Hawkins." Janine curtsied exaggeratedly, and when Mary shoved at her in mock embarrassment, she giggled happily. Mary joined in almost immediately. Their laughter was infectious, and soon the rest of the crew were looking at them fondly. The pure joy on their faces wasn't something the crew saw much of in the Black.

In Greg's peripheral vision, he saw the man take a slight step back and bump into the handle of his cart. The stranger didn't even seem to notice he'd done so, his expression an unbreakable mask, but within his eyes there was something Greg couldn't place.

"And you are?" John asked, following his first mate's tense look.

"Myc Stamford," umbrella man said, straightening. He shifted, like he was about to offer his hand, but he didn't make a move forward and his hands remained in fists by his side.

"Welcome." Captain Watson surveyed them, dragging his gaze around to capture the entire group. "After Molly shows you the dorms, you're to reconvene in the galley so we can lay down the ground rules." John included, belatedly, "happy travels," and turned on his heel, heading up the stairs.

Molly made a come-hither motion and started walking, passing the stairway, only to pause under a rounded doorframe to give the four passengers time to join up with her. Mary and Janine settled smoothly by the mechanic's side, Mrs Hudson coming up the rear holding her frumpy bag to her chest, and together they waited for the last holdout.

He looked like he'd rather do anything but follow them to the passenger dorms.

Without being asked, Greg walked over to the pile of suitcases, holding out a hand for the wheeled utility cart. Myc watched him move closer, his eyes flinty, almost glacial in the glow of Masir's artificial lighting. But when the ex-soldier reached for the waist-high container, there was a barely audible, "Please be careful, it's valuable." When he glanced up, Myc's face was frosty once more, and Greg wondered if he'd imagined the soft, vulnerable look.

"Sure, mate," Greg said, putting just enough dismissiveness in his voice to make the man glare. It made him feel loads better about everything, and he could tell the man knew that it did. Then the smirk dropped off his face and he said, more seriously, "I'll treat it with care, don't worry. Now off you go."

Myc nodded, sharply, and moved to join the group of women watching him curiously. "Apologies for the wait, Ms Hooper, everyone," he said, looking straight ahead.

"No worries," Molly murmured, and they moved out.

Behind them, alone on the cargo bay floor, Greg set about stacking suitcases and storage boxes. Mike's fancy container was heavier than he expected something of its size and height to weigh, and he stumbled in surprise at the extra pounds. He couldn't help wondering what the mysterious rich man was carrying around like a treasure box off to Athens.

…o0o…

After Molly finished with a shallow tour of the ship's main facilities, she ushered the four passengers into the galley while they waited for the rest of the crew to arrive. Donovan was already there, snacking on a protein bar in the corner of the kitchen, leaning on the counter and appearing for all the worlds unconcerned about anything and everything. Molly introduced her as Masir's co-pilot, the deceit easy and smooth on her tongue from familiarity. No law-abiding, non-pirate ship had a need for a mercenary.

Myc turned to Sally almost immediately, catching her off-guard with the sudden interest on his face. "Do you enjoy flying a Firefly-class ship, Ms Donovan?" he wondered. She didn't know why it felt like he was studying her far more intently than she could read for simple small talk like this.

"Erm, yeah, I suppose."

His eyes jumped over her face, seeing something, she didn't know what. Apparently finding what he wanted, he relaxed, resting the tip of his umbrella on the floor with a mild tap. "I've never flown in a Firefly before," he offered to the assemblage at large, and then turned to Molly, "Your ship is very beautiful."

Their mechanic preened at the praise. "Thank you, Mike."

Mary joined in, saying, "The addition of extenders really helps the ship remain stable. I remember hearing stories about this model shaking so much no one could walk more than a few feet before falling over."

"Well, Masir's a smooth flyer now," John contributed, walking into the galley from the direction of the bridge and exchanging a grin with Mary. Her eyes crinkled in the corner, relaxed and companionable, and the doctor felt a bit lost staring into them. Myc scoffed, covering it as a dainty cough, and the two glared at him, expressions souring at once. Janine and Mrs Hudson just looked amused.

"We're just waiting on Greg and Anderson, Cap'n," Molly informed him.

As if it was rehearsed, the first officer chose that moment to duck into the galley. At the generous words of hello from the crowd, Greg smiled. "Nice to finally feel welcomed," he teased, poking John's arm and settling comfortably by the shorter man's side. Their combined front was the cue to start.

"Anderson, our pilot, won't be joining us for this meeting. He will, however, be joining us for dinner each night," the captain explained, "as will you folks. Just the one meal each day until we land. Otherwise, you're free to move about."

"You're welcome to the dining area at all times of the day," Greg edited, reading the group's expressions carefully as he continued, "but the bridge, cargo bay, and engine room are all off limits unless you have an escort."

The group nodded acceptingly. Myc looked like he had expected as much but still wasn't happy about it.

"If you need any of your things, Molly or Greg will escort you right now. Otherwise, you're restricted to the passenger dorms and dining room."

"Any questions?" Greg asked.

When no one said anything, the group was dismissed. Molly joined up with Mary and Janine, walking with them back to the cargo hold so they could collect their things to bring back with them to the dorms. Myc left without a backwards look, disappearing silently. Greg moved to follow him, feeling something off about the man, but Mrs Hudson's question about meal preparations had him turning away to show her where they kept the supplies since Sally had skipped off somewhere else.

…o0o…

The group of passengers and crew regrouped a few hours later for a lovely evening dinner full of spices and color that Mrs Hudson had kindly put together. Chipped, uncoordinated bowls were full of steaming food that smelled enticing and fresh. The crew, used to bland packaged foodstuff and processed protein bars instead of a reimagined meal with changing flavors, added a few extra spoonfuls to their plate.

"Thank you for dinner, Mrs Hudson," Myc said politely, finishing off a little bite and wiping his lips with a napkin like a proper Core world gentleman.

There was a chorus of similar sentiments around the table and Mrs Hudson dismissed the thanks away with some humble words, but she did add, "I'm not your housekeeper, dears, so don't make it habit of asking me to fix your food."

Greg shoveled another helping into his mouth, stuffing his cheeks full. By his side, John was chatting up Mary Morstan and ignoring the rest of their guests. Sally was similarly engrossed in speaking with Anderson, caught up in their married little bubble, but he let them pass since Anderson had been stuck on the bridge for most of the day and then some.

"So, what brings you all to Athens?" Greg enquired loud enough for most of the table to hear and feel included in the conversation. Since John wasn't acting like the captain, he might as well. Molly leaned in, excited to hear the stories, and even Myc raised his head, watching him out of the corner of his eye.

Janine grinned at the attention, excitedly saying in a faint Border world accent he couldn't place, "Ohhh, have I got a story for you all. I used to work as a secretary for one of the Blue Sun firms on Spinrad. You know the place?"

Greg and Molly were shaking their heads, but it was Myc who answered, quietly, "It's one of two moons orbiting Bernadette, a populated Central Planet in the Core. It's considered a close second to Londinium, the first planet terraformed in the exodus of Earth-That-Was, at least in terms of the population size."

Janine blinked at the factual delivery, but she was still smiling even though it faltered a bit. She tried to catch Myc's eyes, but he was busy staring down at his plate with an unsure expression on his face. "Well, aren't you a walking encyclopedia of information!"

"Why'd you leave?" Molly questioned, eager to get back to the stories.

She winked. "Well, I ran into a certain nurse with big, lovely dreams to heal the 'verse. We decided to head out to the Border, maybe even the Outer Rim once we got settled with the change. It's where we'll be able to do the most good, you know?"

"Aww," Molly crooned, "that's lovely. Is it Mary who's the nurse?" she wondered in a hushed tone, like it was a secret. Janine glanced fondly over to her friend, nodding with a smile when she noticed how close the two medical professionals were huddling as they talked.

Greg leaned back, resting a hand on his full stomach. "That's nice of you and Mary. How about you, Mike? What're you planning to do on Athens?"

Myc narrowed his eyes at Greg and said, still staring, "Become a detective."

It sounded like an insult – an insult directed at him – but Greg couldn't figure how it was supposed to be a barb at all. He wasn't a detective, never even thought of it as an option, and there was no shame in being an honorable member of law enforcement for Border worlds. And if it was a dig at his curiosity, it wasn't a very good one. "That's great," he said instead of voicing his confusion. Myc turned back to his food, poking at little chunk of meat in the corner of his plate.

Conversation continued to flow for the rest of the meal, not as stilted as Greg had initially feared. When it finished, and the passengers headed for their dorms for a night's rest, Sally set about washing the dishes (it had been her turn yesterday, but she had put it off until water use wasn't as closely regulated).

Bidding everyone goodnight, Greg followed John back to the crew dorms, climbing down his friend's ladder and commandeering the bed before John could object. They talked for a while, set up plans for their next job, and voiced their concerns over which engine parts took priority with their short money reserves. The conversation lasted for hours, and by the end of it Greg was too tired to climb back up to his room.

"Sleepin' here," he told John, crawling into the bed and closing his eyes. John rolled his eyes but pulled up the covers for the both of them. During the war, they'd shared much less space between them than this wide bed.

"Don't steal the blankets," he ordered in his Captain voice.

….. … …

A sudden crinkling sound of static woke Greg and John up at about the same time. John shot up, stumbling over the covers in his haste to move, immediately alert and grasping the air for a gun that was always kept hidden in a compartment in his desk. As Greg awoke, instead of going for his weapon, he rolled off the bed and crouched down, on the defensive.

After a second of bleary understanding, Greg unbent and rubbed his neck. John chuckled tiredly. "We sleep in?" he wondered even though he still felt tired.

"Didn't feel that long," Greg sighed, rubbing an eye.

The sound crackled to life again, and this time they could clearly hear Anderson through the transmitter. "Captain, you need to get up here. Now."

John didn't waste another second, rushing up the ladder as fast as he could. Greg was right behind him, moving like he hadn't been about to fall back asleep just moments ago.

On the bridge, Anderson was looking anxious, fiddling with his fingers. "Someone sent a signal over the cortex to the nearest Alliance cruiser. I scrambled the message, but I know they at least got our location."

"What?!" Greg hissed, confused, "How—who—?"

John's face was as pale as his first officer's, but it quickly hardened. "We've got a rat on the ship."

"On it," Greg said, and he moved faster than he ever had.

...o0o...

Meanwhile, on the cargo bay floor, Mycroft settled a hand over his package, leaning on one knee to rest his forehead against the cool plastic. He practically melted at the touch, bone tired but appreciating how utterly alone it was here. He could feel himself start to fall asleep, but the low sound of scuffing footsteps had him rapidly uncurling and struggling to his feet. Just as he turned to face the sound, he felt a body slam into him and the two crashed to the ground in a bruising thump.

Instinctively, Mycroft struggled back, and his training kicked in without him noticing. From the ground, he wrapped his legs around his assailant's chest, using his elbows to push the body over his own head in a burst of adrenaline. The other person groaned pitifully, hitting their head straight on, and Mycroft used the other's moment of weakness to scramble upright and appraise the situation from the better vantage point.

Sitting on the floor, his upper body curled around his head, was first officer Lestrade. Mycroft stared, the data not making any sense, why wasn't it making any sense?

He wasn't given any time to fix his math, though, because Greg chose that moment to steel himself to the pain. The older man clambered into a standing position, his arms suddenly raised and pointing a standard officer's pistol—a Liberty Hammer, model B, used during the War but with extensive personal modifications—directly at him. The expression of utter hatred in his eyes outperformed the pained scrunch of his eyebrows.

"You snake," Greg spat, tightening his hold on the gun and walking closer. Mycroft couldn't stop himself from taking a shaky step back, and at the move, the safety clicked off. Mycroft hurriedly raised his hands in surrender. "What did you tell them?"

Mycroft swallowed, eyeing the barrel of the gun. He couldn't stop his gaze from going back to his box, though, and the officer noticed. He said, before Lestrade could turn to the box, not that, never that, "I've talked to no one except those present during dinner, officer."

"You're a liar."

"No, please, think—" he started to say, but the ominous sound of another gun's safety being turned off froze the words on his tongue. Greg just looked surprised and confused, turning his head around but keeping the gun trained on the younger man.

Mary Morstan stood tall, positioned halfway down the staircase and using the height to her advantage. She held her pistol like a professional, her eyes just as detached and cold as the space outside the ship, except for the smug half-smirk on her lips. "Don't take another step."

Greg cursed under his breath, raising his own hands alongside the other man.

It seemed it was the end of the line for them. No miracles left.

She took a step down, pointing the gun more forcefully.

"Mycroft Holmes, you are bound by law to stand down."

Greg's mouth fell open in surprise. What? She wanted him, the poncy Core world brat? Looking over at the man, Greg could finally place what had been in Mike—Mycroft's eyes when Mary had first introduced herself to the group. It had been fear.

What the hell was going on?

.

tbc

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Author's Note: thanks for reading!