John had only awoke once in the night in the strange flat, but he was happy that he did. He was able to catch the rare sight of a sleeping consulting detective, propped up against the backboard of the bed with a pillow. After returning from the bathroom John slipped into such a sound sleep that it felt like only a moment had passed when the sound of the alarm on his mobile phone had him scrambling to hit the touch screen. Sherlock was no longer in his bed by then. He emerged from the en suite looking like he just stepped out of the pages of GQ as opposed to living out of a suitcase in a rarely used studio in Cardiff.
He didn't waste anytime in starting to coach John about how he should act while at his potential drug trial subject interview at the Pharm.
"It's a shame you didn't bring the deep blue jumper that one ex-girlfriend got for you as the 'just-for-no-reason' present (highly premature for only dating for three weeks, even I know that). It draws attention to your eyes and and makes your attempts at keeping people talking 22% more effective. Even though we want you to be discovered to be a spy we also don't want to loose the opportunity for you to possibly get some extra information about the test subject selection process and the overall project in the process. Someone could succumb to your charm and let a little something extra slip by."
The two men maneuvered around each other in the small flat as John got dressed and at least got one cup of tea on board before Martha collected them and they headed back to the Hub. John's awareness must have been revving up slower than usual due to having to process such a world-view-altering flood of information since they arrived in Cardiff. But when the penny dropped he didn't let the opportunity pass him by.
"Hold on" said John, stopping Sherlock's rapid pacing with a hand on his chest. "Did you just tell me that I have nice eyes, I should wear blue more often, and that I am charming?"
"Yes, because witnesses and suspects respond more positively to your amateur interview attempts when you wear blue. I have been tracking it on an app on my phone." replied Sherlock.
"Oh. Of course that's why." said John with a shrug and downcast eyes.
"John," started Sherlock again, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
"Yes?" said John.
"You do actually, I mean, compared to the general population I do find that your..."
Sherlock's uncharacteristic stammering was cut off by a sharp rap of knuckles on the door.
"You boys decent? Can I barge in?" called Martha from the other side.
Sherlock opened and shut his mouth twice then took three lanky strides towards the door and opened it for Dr. Jones.
Martha was dressed more casually, prepared for her role as a student looking to enroll in the clinical trials at the Pharm in order to earn some extra money. She started chatting away, mildly complaining about how Sherlock and John must have used up all the hot water before she jumped in the shower this morning and she's surprised they didn't hear her howl from one story away. Then she stopped and glanced between the two of them. She made motion to the door.
"I'm sorry was I interrupting something...private? I could just wait down at the car." she said.
John then realized he had been still tracking Sherlock around the flat with a confused yet silly smile plastered on his face. He shook himself out of it.
"No, sorry. We're ready to go if you are." replied John.
Without another word exchanged, Sherlock tossed John his black jacket. A second later John threw Sherlock a pack of his favorite biscuits that John forgot he had tucked away in his luggage, accompanied by look that instructed the stubborn, slender man to eat something. Sherlock patted down his pockets.
"Where is my..."
"Top of the dresser, under the shirt you wore yesterday"
Sherlock retrieved his rolled kit of forensic tools from exactly where John indicated that they were. Then the trio were rattling down the dusty stairs of the building together, John and Martha in the lead.
"The way you two maneuver around each other and don't have to say much in the process, you remind me of myself and an old friend of mine." Martha told John as they stepped out into the early morning chill.
"Oh?" John replied as he glanced back at Sherlock, whose nose was buried in the screen of his phone.
"You two were flatmates or something? You were close?" John asked.
Martha smiled warmly.
"Flatmates? Mmm...kind of. We shared some, um, nontraditional housing. And we worked together. And we went on holiday together, although most of the holidays usually went all wobbly and turned into more work. But it was nice. We fit, you know. After we were together for a while we could navigate the cosmos without even saying a word to each other. Not that he ever stayed quiet for too long, though. Liked to hear himself talk too much to let that happen."
"You're no longer together then? Anything happen?" inquired John when they were almost at the car.
"Well, a lot happened. I missed being closer with my family. And he was missing someone too. So it just wasn't meant to be. Never know when we might run into each other again though. And now I'm engaged to a great guy, so things worked out. The hard part of falling in love is just trying to get everything to line up correctly. You gotta know when to walk away and when to pull them in closer, you know?"
"Yeah," answered John. But really, he didn't know. He didn't have the best track record with getting relationships to last. There was always something in the way. First it was uni, and his medical residency, and then the army, and then a mad flatmate that pulled him from dates. But it was the mad flatmate that Martha was just referring to, wasn't it? John realized with a comfortable fondness that his crazy friendship with Sherlock has been the closest and most enduring relationship of his adult life thus far.
While John was lost in his thoughts, Sherlock had overtaken the two doctors and crossed in front of John to hold the car door open for him. John was on the verge of feeling flattered before realizing that it was the nice way of relegating John to the back seat for the ride to the Hub.
"We were talking, Sherlock." John muttered, with a nod directed at Martha, although he did go ahead and climb into the backseat nonetheless.
"Engaged, John." mumbled Sherlock in return.
"What?"
"Get in the car, John."
As soon as the trio arrived at the Hub, Martha was whisked off by Ianto to be fitted with her fake identity and her surveillance equipment. Since the plan was for her to make it all the way in, she got the nifty pair of contact lenses that broadcast whatever she saw back to the Hub. In return, she received text messages displayed right on her corneas.
Toshiko set about giving John his fake identification cards. "John Williams" was plastered across his driver's card as well as a military I.D. John was still listed as a captain but only as a field medic as opposed to a full-fledged doctor. His manufactured back story, as Sherlock had recommended, stayed as close to the truth as possible. He was invalided home about a year ago. Since then he has worked on and off for some ambulance services but has had difficulty adjusting to civilian life. He recently moved from London to Cardiff to stay with an old Army buddy and try to sort his life out. He was volunteering for the clinical study because he found it to be interesting and could use the money for a down payment on a place of his own.
John's intake interview was set up for a full hour earlier than Martha's. He arrived on time and was handed a stack of paperwork to fill out. Just as he was being taken back for his physical and interview, he heard Martha arriving at the reception area with a bright excuse about leaving her place extra early to get there because she was nervous about not finding it properly and then being late. John steadfastly did not glance over his shoulder when he heard her.
The nurse that took his blood samples was not terribly chatty. The researcher who relieved her was all business and also did not give any new information away. They spoke a bit of his family's history of alcoholism and his childhood illnesses. She asked him to confirm his age, with a slightly raised eyebrow. When she read about his war injury on the paperwork, that's when the first spark of greater interest seemed to flare in her. She went on to question him rather extensively about his gun shot wound, the follow-up surgeries, and the lingering nerve damage. She took notes on her computer as they spoke. John heard the muted but distinct sound of an email being "sent". He had the same alert on his laptop.
A few minutes later, Dr. Copeland himself arrived. By that time, John had his shirt off and was gritting this teeth through his scar being poked and prodded.
Dr. Copeland introduced himself but then hung back and only observed. He did commandeer the laptop of his associate and clicked away. They stepped to the side of the room and spoke in hushed tones for a few seconds as John put his shirt back on.
John heard the female doctor whisper about "haven't yet had a case of nerve damage from trauma…would like to see what it does with that…"
"Captain Williams, is it?" said Dr. Copeland when he finally addressed John again.
"Yes, sir" responded John with his warmest but not quite sincere smile in place.
"Thank you for coming out, but I'm afraid that we are ideally looking for subjects no older than around 35. Age has its benefits but not always when it comes to our bodies. I'm sure you understand, being a medical man yourself." Copeland said with a tight smile.
John nodded with what he hoped looked like a disappointed expression and finished straightening himself back up. The female researcher looked confused but did not argue with Copeland. She gave John an apologetic last look and left. John heard her ask the nurse in the hallway a question about the other candidate. The name "Samantha" was the response. So, Martha was next up then.
Copeland lingered in John's exam room a bit longer than was comfortable. But luckily, John was sorted and on his way out. Just as he was walking out, Copeland lifted his eyes from the computer long enough to smugly bid him farewell.
"Goodbye, Dr. Watson. Give Mr. Holmes and Torchwood my regards."
John sneered and shook his head in return. He managed to not smile until he was all the way out the door. He played his part as the successfully failed decoy. From there it was all up to Dr. Jones, otherwise known as student Samantha Jones, to make it all the way in.
Back at the Torchwood 3, the team was all taking turns monitoring "Samantha's" first day at the Pharm. It had been explained to her that her first doses of the experimental medication would be administered the following day. She was kept busy the first day with numerous tests, everything from reflex testing, a full body MRI, and 45-minutes on the treadmill for a stress test.
Martha may have been busy, but it was long hours in front of a monitor back at the Hub with not much else to do besides just wait. And whoever was manning the monitor, Sherlock was right behind them. He seemed to be the only one not bored by the endeavor.
"You can take a break, you know." said Jack as he relieved Ianto's shift.
Sherlock noted, just on the very edge of his peripheral vision, the quick, soft kiss the Captain placed against Ianto's temple before the young suited man stretched and sidled off to the bowels of Torchwood. Without moving from his position, Sherlock silently scanned the rest of the Hub. Owen was at his work station in the morgue, trying to not look like he was dozing off. Gwen was reclined on the couch talking on her cell phone and laughing about something the fiancé was telling her about, although her gaze was directed at Jack. Toshiko was at her work station not far behind where Sherlock sat. He could smell the green tea that she clutched in her hands. He could faintly hear the music emanating from her ear buds, her foot tapping in time on the rung of her metal stool.
But where was John?
Sherlock swiveled in his chair. Through the windows of the conference room he saw John pouring over some charts at the table. He held up an X-ray film. The bone structure was not human. John rubbed his knee. Ah. Studying weevil biology then. John was facing down his fears by learning all he could about the thing that haunted his nightmares. The right side of Sherlock's mouth tugged upwards in quiet pride.
After long hours of waiting through viewing the Pharm's intake process through Martha's eyes, the hour had finally come for her to carry out her mission. Martha just barely avoided being seen by Pharm roving security while breaking into Copeland's office and, with Tosh's remote assistance, making it so that Torchwood had access to all the files on the Pharm's secure network. Then there it all was. There was the study of the Mayfly alien…the parasite whose offspring made the Reset "cure" possible.
"It's beautiful" sighed Toshiko.
"It's lethal" countered Owen.
"Both. It's both. Its lethality does not negate its beauty." Sherlock added with a reverent air.
He tipped his head around Tosh's shoulder, essentially blocking the view of her screen from everyone else. His eyes were lit up like it was Christmas morning, his lips parted with baited breath.
Gwen caught Jack's attention. She was more concerned about the humans involved as opposed to the alien. When John heard Jack use the term "hit man" he went to see what they were looking at. The Pharm did seem to have a former CIA-trained hit man on their payroll and he was connected with "executive orders" in regards to the three known murder victims.
Gwen pointed to the unfamiliar name at the bottom of the list.
"Elin Morgan" she read aloud. She cross-referenced it with the law enforcement data base and found that she was not yet reported as missing or otherwise harmed.
"That's your next victim, then" said Sherlock just as Jack was preparing to say the same thing.
Jack looked annoyed. The damn detective still had his eyes glued to the files about the Mayfly and had highjacked Toshiko's keyboard so that he could scroll through all the files at a speed that he found to be more adequate.
But Jack didn't allow the momentary touch of agitation over being upstaged detract from his duties as the leader of Torchwood. With quick efficiency, he dispatched Gwen and Ianto out to Elin Morgan's address to check on her safety.
Then everything went sideways and downhill rather quickly. Martha attempted to make her escape from the Pharm but there was some commotion outside. It was hard for the team back at the Hub to understand everything that was going on, but it appeared that the compound had kicked into high alert. Then the communication abruptly cut out. Toshiko tried to restart the signal's connection but to no avail.
Owen and Jack went back and forth about the danger the young doctor could be in and her capabilities of dealing with such danger without backup. The team decided to give it 30 minutes of further tries for Tosh to repair the communication with Martha and then make the decision.
Sherlock busied himself blissfully with combing through the Pharm's files while John paced. He was concerned about Martha as well. Jack seemed to have the utmost confidence in her abilities but John could see the panic in Torchwood's leader mounting by the minute. As a captain himself, he knew the feeling of having the lives of others depend on your decisions. However, from a tactical standpoint, Tosh had made a good point about the heavy security there making a forced entry scenario potentially more dangerous to Martha, even with the advanced fire power that Torchwood had in its arsenal. There was no clear answer to the situation.
Luckily, Elin Morgan's flat was not far from the Hub. Within 20 minutes of leaving, Ianto called in the report of having apprehended the Pharm's assassin just as he was about to claim his last victim. They dragged him into the Hub and, at Jack's instruction, directly down to the cell area. Sherlock tore himself away from the computers for the interrogation process. As it turned out, his expert observational skills were not required. Thanks to a little incentive provided via being threatened with being fed to a snarling weevil. Billy quickly confirmed that he was being sent out to eliminate the test subjects before their "weird side effects" manifested themselves in public. He even agreed to get them into the Pharm. It was all going quite well until he started screaming and blood poured from his mouth. Sherlock, although intrigued, took several steps back as Owen surged forward with a strange device in hand. A moment later Billy's stomach burst open and a Mayfly the size of a small cat was flopping about on the floor. Owen quickly bagged up the specimen. Sherlock took the opportunity to grab the alien device Owen had referred to as the "singularity scalpel".
"I'll take that!" said Ianto as he plucked the dangerous tool from Sherlock's hold.
Sherlock scowled.
Back up in the main part of the Hub, John took over monitoring the action of the Pharm's database as Tosh made more frustratingly unsuccessful attempts to reconnect with Dr. Jones.
"Tosh, come look at this." he said warily.
"Is someone accessing Samantha Jones's test results in the middle of the night?" he asked when she came to stand beside him.
"Yes, it would appear so." she confirmed.
"Hold on," John said.
He took a closer look at the test results displayed on the screen.
"Immunology is not my area of expertise, but her white blood cells are just, bizarre. It's like they have mutated or something. But what could cause something like that? What conditions could possibly?" he trailed off.
"John, look." Toshiko interjected. "Does that mean what I think it means?"
The two watched the real-time updates on the screen. It indicated that subject "Samantha Jones" had just been administered Reset.
"Shit" said Gwen from behind them. "We need to get her out of there."
The rest of the team and Sherlock surfaced from the cells. Owen and Jack were splattered with blood while Ianto and Sherlock were somehow unscathed.
"What happened to you two?" asked Gwen.
"Owen blew up Billy the assassin, Ianto won't let me touch with the instrument he used to do it, no one will let me touch the specimen that popped out of dead Billy's belly, and we didn't learn anything that we didn't already know." grumbled Sherlock.
"That is" Owen began, exasperated, "actually quite accurate. How about Martha?"
"The medical database from the Pharm indicates that she has been administered the Reset. We need to get her out of there." replied Gwen.
"Jesus" gasped Owen. He ran a hand down his tight expression. "But we're in no better shape than we were before in trying to get into a heavily fortified and well-manned compound."
"John," Sherlock said. He waved his doctor over for a hushed side conversation.
The Torchwood team frantically bounced ideas around, using phrases like "direct assault" and "no not the big guns, the Really Big guns".
"Sherlock, no. That's just…no." dismissed John with a shake of his head and a somewhat sickened look.
"I have an idea to get us in," said Tosh finally. "You said Billy had his guts blown open but his head is fine, right?"
"Yeah," confirmed Jack cautiously.
"Then let's use him to drive us right through the front door! I can install a remote in the care and we can hide out in the back."
The team all smiled at Tosh.
"Get to it Tosh. Owen, help me clean up our friend for his final trip. Ianto, Gwen, raid the arsenal. It's all hands on deck."
"Oh, you are twisted on the inside" teased Ianto to Toshiko.
"I TOLD you it was a good idea!" yelled Sherlock to John.
"Well, I stand corrected. You and this morbid lot fit right in together." replied John, but his tone was playful.
"Things with the Yard would go so much more smoothly if they ignored the rules of social decorum and procedure like Torchwood. Of course, I do still object to the mass cover-ups, but I like this bit. Now!" Sherlock clapped his hands hand and then rubbed them together in excitement. "I'd prefer to not crouch in the back of a van. John and I will follow in a separate vehicle. If you feel it is prudent, we can also be armed. You deduced correctly, Captain, that John is proficient with a weapon and I can assure you that I…"
"You two are not coming with us." deadpanned Jack.
Author's Note:
So sorry for the insanely long delay in posting this next chapter. I tackled too many WIP's at one time! But I will never abandon a fic. Any and all constructive reviews are very much appreciated. I love to hear about what bits you like or if you have any cute ideas of details for future chapters. Thanks so much for your patience and for reading!