Let the Adventure Begin
Q didn't sleep well that night. He kept having nightmares about suddenly finding himself in the middle of a full classroom, with all his future classmates staring at him wide-eyed, or even outright laughing at him. He couldn't understand their reaction until he looked down on himself, and found that he had forgotten to switch his slippers to shoes and was still clad in his pajamas, and had sleep-tousled hair. Then his glasses became totally fogged, and couldn't see anything clearly anymore, only hear the taunts and insults thrown at him.
The scene focused again, and the teacher kept insisting he sing the school's anthem in front of the whole school in the great hall, doing the accompanying dance and wouldn't accept the boy's excuse of only having arrived that day and not having any idea about school songs or other customs.
Then the students started to sing a song about how nobody wanted or needed newcomers and especially scrawny little Quartermasters at the school, and as a "dance" kept hitting him with their school bags to chase him away.
Next, he dreamt about walking into MI6 bringing his school books and notebooks with him instead of his laptop and documents. The guards, the minions, Moneypenny, M and Tanner were all teasing him mercilessly with all the Double-Os teaming up to poke fun on him and call him names like 'tiny school boy' or 'snotty child'.
Then M called him to his office and informed the boy he would be chucked out, because with this childish behavior he had proved he wasn't ready for the responsibility of a Quartermaster yet and it would be perhaps better if he went back to school for real to socialize a little bit more.
So dream-Q got his dismissal notice and walked out of HQ dragging his school bag after him, holding the broken pieces of his beloved Q-mug that R had thrown to the floor to mock him about losing his position and symbolize his life shattering to pieces.
He woke up around midnight bathed in sweat and panting, feeling absolutely nauseous and shaky, not even ashamed about the teardrops he could feel running down his cheeks. There was nobody to see him, thank God.
The boy wasn't new to nightmares, of course. As a child, he'd had them constantly, going so far that after a while he'd come to hate going to sleep in the evening and would do anything to prolong it for as long as possible. The dreams had been mostly about the plane crash or some even about his dead parents coming back to haunt him, telling him how disappointed they were in him and how they had never expected their littlest son to be a failure like that… Or Mycroft and Sherlock realizing how much they hated their little brother for surviving when their parents hadn't, and this being stuck with having to raise a child they had never asked for not wanted. But recently these had become sparser and sparser, until – around two years ago or so – they had completely disappeared. This had probably something to do with the fact that most of the time he was so deadly tired that he fell unconscious more than asleep when he finally got the time to rest… But still, it had been nice to be free from nighttime terror for once in his life.
So this now… this had been unexpected. And not welcome at all.
He untangled his body from the bedsheets, dragged himself out to the bathroom, and looked warily into the mirror. He looked absolutely dreadful: his hair was in disarray which showed how much he must have turned over and over in his sleep as an attempt to flee from his (hopefully only imagined) demons; his eyes were red and puffy from crying and he was shaking like a leaf. Also, his pajamas were uncomfortably sticking to his body with cold sweat.
The teenager tried to right himself a little by washing his face in ice cold water and repeatedly speaking out load for his image in the mirror how it had only been a horrible nightmare and how no one in MI6 would ever in reality do that to him. It didn't help that he sadly wasn't so sure about his future schoolmates though… He pulled off his pajama top and threw it into the laundry, not even bothering to put on anything else instead.
Making a mental note for the morning to check to see if there are really such things as school anthems and dances, he left the bathroom, switched off the lamp and collapsed into the bed for the rest of the night, clutching Paddington to his chest like a lifeline.
He finally managed to go back to sleep around 1 AM, but sadly, the nightmares kept reappearing during the whole remaining night.
Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q - Q
Q had to leave early the next morning, so he got up at 5 AM, drank an Earl Grey, took a shower, drank an Earl Grey, packed his bag and drank a mint tea from the selection M gave him as a present. ('Hm… maybe there really IS a life beyond Earl Grey…')
He felt really horrible after such a night, as if he hadn't slept anything at all. As a matter of fact; it probably would have been much better if he hadn't slept… His head was pounding terribly, and his eyes felt like they had been on fire. No amount of rubbing them helped, it only made things worse: now he even looked like he had been crying again, with his eyes red and puffy.
Q sighed heavily, accepting that he couldn't do anything to improve his appearance, so it was useless to try anymore. With that ominous though he grabbed his things and with a last, rueful glance around his home, he got going.
On a second thought he turned back from the door, hurriedly grabbed Paddington Bear and stuffed him into his bag on top of his clothes. He didn't even pack his laptop or mobile phone because he just KNEW M must have spoken with whoever they were he was going to live with about how he was not allowed to use any kind of technical equipment aside from what they were going to provide him with. And he didn't hold out much hope for those – he knew everything that could be bought in regular commerce was basically useless.
Grumping at the ridiculousness of the whole situation, he locked up the flat, activated the various alarms he had installed over the years and went down the stairs to stand in front of the building, waiting for the car that was due to pick him up at 6:15.
He didn't have to wait long. An MI6 issued car soon cane to stop in front of him and the driver (Mike, if he remembered correctly) opened the door for him, smiling, as if this had been the most wonderful morning of all. Q had to consciously bite back a wrathful remark. The driver wasn't at fault about his bad mood and he really didn't deserve to have to suffer for it, the teenager decided.
"Good morning, Quartermaster! Please, get in!"
The boy sighed, and resigned himself to his fate. It wasn't as if he had much of a choice in the matter anymore. 'Alea iacta est'…
On the way to wherever they were going (Mike had refused to give away anything about their destination, and no amount of ordering or threatening had helped – the man had said he had been instructed by M himself to keep quiet but also had assured the boy smiling knowingly he'd learn soon enough anyway) Q read through the mission files for the first time.
His name was going to be Daniel (Danny) Coulter, 16 years old, son of the late carpenter Benjamin Coulter and the bookshop-seller Annika Coulter. He grew up in Swindon, Wiltshire with his mother and older sister, Clara (18), his dad having died when he was only in nursery. (Too close to the truth for Q's liking and he gave an involuntary shiver upon reading it.) He had gone to school near his home but there were some behavioral issues that forced his mom to send him to her brother and his wife's to Stevenage, Hertfordshire. ('So, that's where we're headed' – Thought Q. Though it wasn't much help, as he'd never been there before.) He would attend the North Hertfordshire College. His uncle was a strict but fair man, ex-military, called Alan Marshall and his kind-hearted wife, Mary, who didn't have a job but was very active in charity work, which she organized regularly in the local church.
'What a picture-book life. Nobody will fall for it.' – Q disdainfully noted that he didn't have any credit cards on his fake name. Inside the envelop, he only found an ID, a student's card and a season ticket for the Stevenage public transport. That was it. Not even a library ticket. Q double-, then triple checked, but there was really nothing more. ('Typical. And they ask me why I don't deliver the task of creating background stories and documents for the agents…') He instantly regretted not taking any electronic devices he could have used to send a message to his minions about the sloppy job they had done with his alias.
Finally resigning himself to the fact that however long he stared at the files they wouldn't produce any more information for him, he proceeded to read up everything he had on his target instead: 54 years old business man called Michael Johnson, with a lot of dubious transactions from companies that were suspected to be involved in everything illegal imaginable, from money laundering to blackmail, forgery, and even smuggling. His daughter and son, both 17 years old, were going to the same school Q would be attending. The boy was called Michael Johnson Jr. ('Pff, what a surprising, creative choice of name!') and was the captain of the school's football team and a heartthrob for the girls. ('Jesus, can you get even more stereotypical?')
It turned out that yes, it definitely could become even more so, for Michael Johnson Jr.'s twin sister, Margaret – who was together with him in all his classes, except for PE -, was said to be beautiful and the most popular girl of the school. Q was glad he hadn't had any breakfast for fear he would lose it right then and there. ('I won't be surprised if people are going to just start singing and dancing at the appropriate places at that hellhole… It all could be the script of a family musical.') He was starting to suspect that Mycroft and Sherlock were right with their belief: normal just wasn't for a Holmes. And to think he hadn't even arrived yet and was already annoyed with everything… As his luck currently stood, he'd probably end up living with the most boring family as well. What if they were really doing charity work and wanted to make him participate as well? What if they would want to make him go to church…? Q just couldn't imagine himself sitting through a mass, praying and singing with the crowd. He was afraid he'd get into a fit of laughter during the process and wouldn't be able to stop or he'd just fall asleep in the middle of it, and fall down his seat…
Luckily, his target was so much more interesting. Apart from probably being a first-class criminal (and Q honestly could respect those to some extent, because most of the time it took some level of brilliance to commit the crimes) he was most possibly also cheating on his wife with his secretary. Also expected and textbook-like, but at least convenient. It might help Q gain information if he had some leverage on his 'victim'. Q also suspected the wife might not be an innocent Damsel in distress either, though he didn't have any data on her in the documents. He would just have to research the family further for himself.
The journey was short and uneventful. Very soon they arrived to their destination in Stevenge, Hertfordshire – a beautiful and enormous manor house with a huge garden and luxurious iron gates with stone pillars! From where the car had come to a halt in the front lawn right before the still closed gate, waiting for admission, Q could see that a long road was leading up to the house's entrance. As they were finally allowed to enter and drove up the hill to the house, the boy saw a fountain that happily spit water high into the air from the mouth of the dolphin statue in the middle. All around it and also scattered all over in the grass were lots and lots of colorful flowers, most of them totally unknown for the boy who had never really even left their city house during his childhood. God, there was even a hedge maze! Unbelievable!
"Quartermaster!" – Q jerked back to reality to the driver's call. It was probably not the first time the man had tried to get his attention but he was just so entranced with the view he hadn't been able hear him before. – "This is where I leave you. I was told to drive away as soon as you get out of the car. Your hosts will come momentarily."
Q nodded and exited the car clutching his bag to his chest and looking around in awe. He didn't even register the car driving away or the two people standing chuckling behind him.
"You like it?" – Q spun around to look at the owner of the voice and nearly fainted. He dropped his bag in surprise and tried to make sense of the whole situation: for before him in the door of the house stood the former M and Q, arm in arm, smiling at him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"What…? How…? I mean… When…? Ahm…" – Q, the current that is, just couldn't find the words and opted for a very confused expression instead.
"Very eloquent, Quartermaster. Just as I would be expecting from my antecedent!" – chuckled the old Q good-naturally.
"Ahm…" – Q tried again but then gave up, still not able to speak from sheer shock.
"Son, I'm sure you must have a lot of questions. Please, do come in. I've made breakfast and we will explain everything to you." – And with that the old M ushered him inside the house with a hand on his shoulder while the old Q picked up his forgotten bag.
The house inside was every bit as marvelous as from the outside. It was like a palace! Everything was very artfully furnished with stylish decorations and it just generally had a very welcoming feeling.
From the great hall, Q was led upstairs by the two smiling adults and shown into a room with adjoining private bathroom.
"This is going to be your room for your entire stay. I've made your bed and you can find extra blankets in the cupboard. The bathroom has everything we thought you'd need but feel free to tell us if we have forgotten something." – Said the old M.
"You may use everything in here and pack out your things just as you see fit. The computer has an internet connection though as Mallory might have already explained it to you, you may only use it for learning and everyday purposes: 'everyday purpose' meaning with the standards of average people, not yours, mind you." – Explained the old Q with a wink. "I'm afraid we don't have much of a security here, we're not in the spying business anymore after all."
"There's a library downstairs beside the sitting room, you are welcome to come and go at your pleasure. You can take out books, too, of course, just please return them to their respective places after reading. Oh, and we have all your school things in the drawers of the desk."
'School things'… Q just nodded. It was all too much to take in at once, his head was beginning to spin and he wished for a big cup of tea.
As if M sensed his discomfort, she declared.
"Enough of the rules for now, let's go have breakfast. We can talk the other matters over while eating. Just leave your bag here, dear, and let's go."
Q was going towards the door when he started to feel very funny: his feet were too weak to support his body, and he was shivering. Clearly, this whole mess had upset him more than he had originally thought…
The next moment everything went black as he lost consciousness.
