Chapter 19: More Secrets

Once they are back on the road, the day seems a bit brighter for them. They know they must return to the comely little hotel, but those hours seem so far away right now. They walk side-by-side quietly, John keeping up with Sherlock's long strides easily enough. Their boots make crunching noises on the packed dirt of the roadway. John takes a look around and thinks that there isn't much out this way in the realm of civilization. Juno II is very similar to Earth, save for the dual suns and the almost-constant climate.

As they make their way closer to the little town, they are often passed by other travelers. Several heavily-laden carts pulled by massive, hairy animals that look like a cross between oxen and rhinoceroses pass them, headed in the direction of the bazaar. A spectacularly painted cart rumbles by and John turns his head in time to see a small child sitting on the back bumper of it. The child's face is humanoid in appearance, except for the rosy-pink hue to his skin and the pinkish color of his hair. His face is dirty but otherwise he appears happy and healthy. He raises a hand in greeting and John returns the gesture.

They enter the main thoroughfare of the little town. It is surrounded by buildings similar in make to the hotel where they are staying: all grey and brown businesses and homes with similar square, flat roofs. John gets the impression that star-gazing is a regular past-time here and inwardly thinks he is going to miss that beautiful sight once they leave.

The captain has stopped in front of a rather nondescript grey building and is pushing through a heavy glass door. He holds it open and John steps in, blinking his eyes slowly against the dramatic change in light. Inside there is a calm coolness. In the back of the building, the sound of a fan that helps move the air around a bit to keep it from getting stale can just be made out. Music plays all around them softly. John picks up the smells of food cooking and turns to ask Sherlock if he's hungry but the other man has already disappeared whilst he was studying the décor. This place seems peaceful enough and there are only a few diners among the twenty or so little tables set up around the room. John chooses one that allows him to sit with his back to a wall but still gives him the ability to see the doorways and the rest of the dining hall.

A rather humanoid-looking alien comes over to take his order. She is only about five feet tall and could pass for human except for the long, thin, crest on her face that runs from forehead to tip of her nose. It's been pierced with several gold rings. John has to remember he's not at home and tries not to stare. Her irises are violet rimmed with gold and for a moment he almost decides to pay her just so she'll stand next to him and let him look at her for the rest of the day. He's not really interested in any type of sexual encounter, but he is a visual man so…

A large hand falls to John's shoulder, shaking him out of his reverie. He blinks and looks up to see Captain Holmes smiling down at him. He flushes guiltily, thankful when Sherlock places their order in a kind manner and does not cause a scene.

"She's certainly beautiful, Ambassador." The captain stares at him with a smirk on his lips. John nods in agreement.

"Yeah, she is. Though I can say there's probably nothing else for me now, dammit. You have ruined me, Sherlock." John shoots back at him with a pretend glare.

"Good. I don't like to share." Sherlock's voice is calm but there is no mistaking the serious intent behind his words. John nods to show that he understands.

"The feeling is mutual, I am sure." He's not talking about the desire for another being, no; he is talking about being exclusive. What Sherlock hears is: You are now my only one, but I expect the same in return. As an answer, the captain just captures his eyes in a sea-green tractor beam and holds him there. They understand each other perfectly.

After breakfast, they find themselves in yet another building. Sherlock is leaning against the counter, one booted foot propped up on the rail; John is seated on a tall stool trying hard not to throttle the human from whom they are attempting to glean information. The captain has moved into the man's personal bubble and is all but jumping up onto the counter and shaking the poor bastard by his shoulders. The man is actually trembling in fear but even John can see that he is lying through his crooked teeth.

"Captain Holmes, sir, I don't know." The man, Jenkins, is looking everywhere around his shop but into Sherlock's eyes.

"Jenkins, you are a terrible liar." Jenkins finally turns his face up to the captain's and John swears the man is going to piss down his own leg. The trembling has increased tenfold. Sherlock's hands are actually reaching out towards Jenkins' shoulders when John lays one hand on Sherlock's arm. The captain breaks the intense stare and looks at John. John gives him a twisted little smile. Sherlock raises his eyebrows but then steps back from the counter, waving his hand in a "alright, your turn" manner.

John calmly gets down off of the stool. He walks to the opposite end of the counter and opens the little gate on the end. He closes the little gate. He then proceeds to walk up as close to Jenkins as he can without putting a hand on the little man. Jenkins' trembling has increased another notch and the little man is actually sweating profusely.

In the calmest but most serious voice he can muster, John gazes right into Jenkins' eyes. "Mr. Jenkins, do not play my friend or myself as fools." Jenkins is trapped and he knows it. Fleetingly, John considers that the shopkeeper may have a weapon on his person, but by the fear he is showing it's not probable.

"Mr. Jenkins," John drawls out the mister, keeping the emphasis on the title rather than the sir name. "Beings have died. Apparently you have some information for us as to who is behind this little shindig." John's voice has actually dropped an octave. He has no idea that the captain's heart is pounding in his chest and that he is frozen in place watching the interchange.

"Won't you tell us, please, Mister Jenkins?" John has carefully reached for his weapon and his now casually holding it in one hand, its muzzle pointing down at the floor. Jenkins' eyes have now gone from John's face to the weapon and he's pretty much made up his mind that he better start talking, like now or he's not going to make it home to the wife and kids.

"Mister….mister…ah…" Jenkins knows Captain Holmes very well, but not this new person; who is turning out to be a right little tyrant, even with the weapon pointed at the floor. Jenkins takes a deep breath. "It's not me. I swear, Caa…Ca…Captain."

Sherlock nods at the terrified man but doesn't say anything. John's got this one in the bag.

"Look over here, Jenkins." John rolls his fingers a little bit, causing his nails to clink against the metal of the weapon. Jenkins head snaps back to him. "You can call me Ambassador, Jenkins."

"Yes, well then. Ambassador. Yes. It's not me. I know, I know!" He holds up his hands as if he's caught the narrowing of Sherlock's eyes.

"You know what Jenkins?" says Sherlock in that deep voice that can either make you come or scamper away in fear.

John keeps his eyes on Jenkins. It's obvious that the man is terrified.

"Ambassador. Alright. You have to understand that there is never just one being helping the…the…" Jenkins eyes have gone wide and he seems to be looking out the window over John's shoulder.

Suddenly, Jenkins is talking a mile-a-minute. John can barely keep up. "I never helped them come through the Gate, Captain, I swear. They wanted me to help because…because of all that stuff from before, you know, come on. I know you know. But then they said they would kill my babies, my precious babies, and that was a long time ago, I'm an honest shopkeeper now, I can't get involved in all that…that…stuff anymore. Come on you know."

The sound of glass shattering breaks the spell. Jenkins turns his head towards Sherlock in the last second before a projectile buries itself in his forehead. His eyes flutter for a second and the little man slumps to the floor. It's like slow motion at that point. John spins towards the window as the captain hunkers down behind the counter. John holds his weapon pointed towards the shattered glass. Whoever or whatever is gone. Apparently, their only target was the hapless Jenkins.

Sherlock stands up slowly and their eyes meet over the counter. They have been on this planet for one whole day and the body count seems to be rapidly multiplying. This case seems to be getting more serious with each passing moment.

Chapter 20: Stress

Back at their room, John has casually draped himself over an armchair whilst Sherlock paces back and forth. He has not spoken yet, but John can tell the man is agitated. He has so many questions that he would like to ask the captain, but he does not want to derail the other man's train of thought. John takes a long drink from the tall glass of translucent blue liquid sitting on the table by his side. He watches the captain pace a few more times and then sees the futility of the action.

"Sherlock, have a drink." Naturally, the captain just turns his head slightly and glares. John merely holds up his glass and nods his head in mock salute.

"You have questions." Sherlock is holding his hands behind his back as he paces.

"Yes."

"Go ahead."

John considers the phrasing of his question. He wants as much information as possible, but he still feels like he should not pry where he isn't wanted.

"What did that poor bastard mean when he said you know?"

The captain is only slightly taken aback. Out of the whole scenario, John caught that?

"Yes, I caught that. I can see what you are thinking, Sherlock. I've been around long enough to know that life is neither black nor white. It was obvious from the time we walked in that he was known to you. So please explain." John's glass makes a tiny tinkling sound as he replaces it on the table. He shifts in his chair and rests his palms on the arms, his posture giving an air of utmost and unlimited patience.

Sherlock takes his cue and starts to speak without stopping his manic actions. "As you well have seen, Jenkins and I go way back. He was really good at smuggling at one time; time was that he was caught by some pretty shifty individuals. They made it clear that he didn't belong in their Quadrant, so he was basically in exile here; though he stopped the smuggling."

"What was he smuggling?"

"All sorts of goods, some of them live." The captain has ceased pacing and was now standing with both hands in his hair, eyes closed, head tilted towards the open frame wooden ceiling.

"Slaves?"

"At times, John, at times."

"What else?"

Sherlock reaches into his pocket and holds up the little jewel. He holds it up so that it catches the rays of the dying light. John understands.

"So he traded that for…what? his freedom?"

"Yes." Sherlock wearily drops into the chair next to John's. He completely ignores his own glass but reaches over and carefully wraps his long fingers around John's. He brings it to his mouth and drinks it all down in one swallow. He holds the glass in one hand in his lap, his eyes billions of light years away.

John reaches over and lays a hand on Sherlock's arm. The captain's focus changes from wherever he had been to a searing gaze that lands on John like a sun storm. The tension is immediate and hot. Within seconds they are both naked, Sherlock pinned underneath John on the massive four-poster bed. It's not long before their energy burns out and they drop into a deep sleep.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Dual suns' morning light cuts through the window and blasts itself into John's face. He squeezes his eyes shut further and valiantly attempts to ignore both his full bladder and the siren's call of the daylight. He pulls the covers up over his face and huffs. An answering huff from the heavy weight across his back causes him to chuckle. One of Sherlock's hands wraps around his ribcage and the palm is smoothed over his chest. He chuckles again.

Sherlock feels John's chuckle vibrate through his own naked chest. He firmly rubs the sternum under his hand and is rewarded with another soft chuckle. He makes a soft sound in his own throat and for once considers just telling his brother to fuck off and give the case to someone else. But he knows he would never do that, because it would be like admitting defeat.

…and that, boys and girls, was never going to happen.

The captain proceeds to run his hand down John's chest and across his abdomen. John groans and rolls over. Sherlock pushes himself up on his arms just enough to allow the other man to do so. He reaches out with his lips and intentionally misses John's mouth, instead going for the side of his neck. John closes his eyes and almost growls. Sherlock tries on a chuckle of his own and suddenly the feeling of a full bladder is replaced with an exceedingly interested erection.

Sherlock continues his rather mouthy exploration of John's neck while John wraps his arms around his lover and strokes his back. There is just a calm peace about them this morning, even with all that has happened. The captain finally pushes himself up a little and dives in John's mouth. John arches his hips slightly, their erections casually rubbing past each other, and groans. He's got a handful of one each right and left butt cheek and things seem to be on a pleasant march to a repeat of last night.

Until the com-screen flares to life.

"Captain, Ambassador, there's been a breach to the Neo-Tethys. We need you home now." It's Professor Royburn and he's not looking towards the bed, but rather his eyes are distracted. The captain licks at John's mouth one more time and bounds off the bed to stand in front of the com-screen.

"Captain." Allen says calmly, though his face betrays the stress he's feeling at the moment, there is also an amused hint in his expression upon seeing his captain completely in the buff.

Allen clears his throat and tries again. As the two men speak, John gathers up his clothes and hastily pulls them on. He's pulling on the last boot when the com-screen falls silent and the captain turns away to get himself dressed. As he pulls on his uniform, he explains what is happening aboard their ship to John. Apparently, just after Jenkins was shot yesterday, his crew apprehended and took into custody an assassin of some sort. The man had dropped aboard the ship via a shuttle craft that pulled away from the side of the Neo-Tethys quickly. The assassin was now in the brig, being held until the captain issued other orders. He had been armed to the teeth and three of his weapons were thought to have had the same poison on them that was used by the Telom who had attempted to kill John.

"We will be leaving in five, John. Grab only what you need, the rest can be sent up later."

There's a slight knock on the door. The captain is just adjusting his belt and John is bent over grabbing his weapon from underneath the bed where it had dropped last night. Their eyes meet and the captain moves to open the door. John holds the weapon steady, covering Sherlock.

The captain slowly opens the door.