Title: Metamorphosis

Parings: James Bond & Q; Sherlock Holmes & John Watson.

Warnings: Canon typical violence. Nonconsensual drug use.

Disclaimer: All characters, situations and concepts borrowed belong to their respective owners. If you recognize it, its not mine. I claim no rights. I make no profit.

Chapter 11 – Silence is Golden

Hospital chairs were uniformly uncomfortable and John Watson had occupied enough of them over his lifetime to know. The one he was currently sitting in could be termed tolerable as befitted a private room arranged by Mycroft Holmes but it still put a kink in his neck and made his shoulder ache. Mycroft had appeared, sans assistant, just about the time they'd decided to admit Sherlock and had somehow managed to arrange for the private room as well as a security detail and medical privileges for John. After quizzing John on both the events of the evening and Sherlock's medical condition he'd left without another word.

It had been a little over seven hours since then and the medical staff was frankly stumped. The drug Sherlock had been given acted and tested as GHB but every time it started to wear off it was as if the remaining amount in his system multiplied and put him under again. This put him in danger of respiratory complications and had a serious potential for overdose which was why John had insisted on a rather stringent monitoring protocol. The only thing that gave John any hope was that each time the drug load spiked the tests indicated that total amount was less than the previous spike.

John suspected that this had something to do with the Fae they'd encountered in the alley. It had admitted that it had hired the thugs. It had also been clear from the smell and his other senses that the Fae was water based. Since blood and body fluids were, in effect, water John suspected that the effects he was seeing were the result of some sort of magical spell combined with the GHB. John didn't know very much about spells or curses but he did know that they often had triggers. If there was a trigger that caused the unmetabolized drug in Sherlock's system to revert to full potency then John ought to be able to figure out what it was. He'd been attempting to do so for the last four cycles and had come up with several possibilities. Heart rate, movement and speech were most likely. Each time Sherlock had started to wake up his heart rate increased, he'd move and try and speak. Before he could do much the drug would increase in potency again and he'd pass out.

John stood, stretched and moved to Sherlock's bedside. Since he had a working hypothesis he'd see if he could get Sherlock to cooperate in testing it. It was going to be tricky. Sherlock was due to wake in a bit and John didn't know quite what he was going to say to get the detective to comply with his plan. As if the thought had spurred the action Sherlock's heart rate started to climb and he took a deep breath.

"Sherlock, don't move." John used his I'm deadly serious tone of voice. "Don't try to talk and keep your heart rate as steady as possible while I explain."

Sherlock's brow furrowed slightly then he took several deep breaths. John watched as his heart rate slowed a bit. It wasn't as slow as when he was fully drugged but it was soon at a calm resting rate.

"Ok," John started in, "You are in hospital and you've been out cold on and off for over eight hours total. The GHB they gave you was modified in some way. It seems to trigger back into full potency whenever you start to wake up. Its slowly wearing off as you metabolize more of the drug but I think we can cut the time down substantially if you can manage to hold off triggering the increase."

Sherlock exhaled forcefully through his nose which John interpreted as well get to the point.

"I think whatever is triggering the increase is based on something you do as you come out of the sedation," John continued. "First thing I'd like you to try is increasing your heart rate."

John paused for a moment as Sherlock took several shallow breaths.

"Mycroft has been through," John remarked conversationally. "He said…" John stopped speaking as Sherlock's heart rate and blood pressure jumped. After observing for a minute John continued "Well it doesn't look like its heart rate."

Sherlock snorted.

Once Sherlock's blood pressure and heart rate had returned to normal John asked "Movement next?"

Sherlock gave a huff in annoyance.

"Oh we should probably come up with a communication system since I don't want you talking yet. Tap twice for yes, once for no to start. If movement isn't the trigger then we can try writing."

Sherlock tapped his hand twice on the bed rail then opened his eyes.

John used the opportunity to do a pupil reaction test.

"Grab my hands." John continued. Sherlock did so and John ran him through a quick and dirty neurological assessment.

"Well you are definitely still under the influence. You probably could walk if you had to but I wouldn't advise trying it just yet."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, his expression shouted Obviously, but he didn't speak.

"Let's see if sitting you up causes problems," John continued in doctor mode ignoring the expression. It only took a minute or so to get the bed and Sherlock arranged to John's satisfaction. "Still dizzy?" he inquired.

Sherlock tapped once.

"Good. There was some paper around here."

John had just turned away from the bed to look for it when the bottom fell out of his world. It was a strong and specific precognitive flash even clearer than the one that occurred just before that Fae had shown up at Baker Street. This one started as that half weightless feeling you got on a rollercoaster as the car started down the initial drop. In fact the last time he'd felt a precognition this strongly was just before he'd been shot. That time he'd known that his life would be in imminent danger if he attempted to save Corporal Hannon but he'd acted anyway. This time he knew someone highly magical and very dangerous was heading this way with the full intent of seeing Sherlock.

John pivoted on his toes looking quickly around the room. Ever since the Fae had visited them at 221B he'd been wearing magical protection. His maternal grandfather's wristwatch and his dog tags, both of which had been imbued with every magical protection his grandmother had been able to cast as well as a few she had traded favors for, had not been off his person waking or sleeping. He assumed that Sherlock had done the same however all of Sherlock's effects were currently packed away in a drawer and without Sherlock being able to tell him what exactly he was looking for he'd waste precious time attempting to find whatever protection Sherlock had been wearing. He quickly pulled his dog tags off over his head and settled them around Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock started in surprise and looked as if he was about to speak.

"No." John placed a finger on Sherlock's lips. "I need you as clear as possible just in case we have to run. Use that incredible acting ability of yours and play inebriated."

Sherlock glared but nodded tapping his fingers twice for emphasis.

Reassured that his flat mate wasn't going to try and talk, which John now suspected was the trigger for the drug increase, John moved to stand between the bed and the door. He reached back and unholstered his Sig placing it on the bed out of sight and slightly under the blanket with the safety off. There were sounds of footsteps in the hall and Sherlock placed his hand lightly next to John's further obscuring the gun. John gave a slight nod of approval. From the doorway it would look like they were holding hands. At this point John didn't care what it looked like or what anyone would think; he was going to do whatever was needed to ensure Sherlock's safety.

The footsteps paused outside then the door opened revealing Mycroft who was followed by what looked like a child of 10 or 11. She was petite with long blond hair in pigtails. All it would take was a yo-yo or a lolly to complete the illusion of innocence. John wasn't fooled. She was Fae and radiated both power and authority from beneath her magical disguise. He intentionally didn't attempt to see through her glamor. With the level of power he was sensing such a move could very well be interpreted as a personal attack especially if he managed to see her true form.

On her part she stopped just inside the doorway and looked at him in surprise. She then glanced at Mycroft with a questioning gaze.

Mycroft said, "My brother's flat mate, Dr. Watson," indicating John. "This is a," he hesitated fractionally, "colleague of mine whom I've asked to advise me on my brother's condition."

The Fae girl entered the room. John shifted slightly to track her new position. She looked at him and remarked to Mycroft, "He doesn't trust me."

Mycroft looked as if he was going to respond but John interjected "No Lady, I don't."

She smiled at the honorific. "How did you become so wary I wonder?" she mused half to herself.

"John," Mycroft's tone was pacifying, "She is here under an agreement with me."

Sherlock moved his hand under the covers and engaged the safety on the Sig. John took that as an indication that he at least felt Mycroft's statement was protection enough. John sighed then deliberately took the gun from under the blanket and replaced it in the holster at the small of his back guessing that she wouldn't be upset by an obvious weapon. He didn't move from the side of the bed and kept his eyes on the Fae girl the entire time. Luckily she seemed to be amused rather than insulted by his actions. She smiled indulgently at him while looking him over just up until the point she spotted his grandfather's watch.

She went completely still in surprise then said "You are a McKinley." It wasn't a question.

"Not if you ask them," John replied. His mother's kin, with the exception of his grandmother, had made it very clear that he and Harry were definitely not part of the clan for reasons that neither his mother nor grandmother had bothered to explain.

"Blood will win out John Watson," she half laughed, "You wouldn't be able to wear that if you weren't."

Mycroft was acting nonchalant but John could tell that his entire attention was focused on the conversation. Sherlock too was absolutely still, listening and most likely observing from under half closed eyelids. Great, he thought to himself, now I'm going to have to explain what little I know of my family history to not one but two curious Holmes'. The source of the revelation caught Mycroft's interest as well as John's dismay and seemed to be mightily amused by his predicament.

"Peace cydwaed," she smiled again at him. "I'll do no harm to you or your anwylion this day, my word on it."

Curiouser and curiouser John thought. Calling Sherlock his beloved was a reasonable mistake since he was technically wearing protection belonging to John. It was strange, however, that she had also claimed kinship with him. The Fae didn't lie. They would tell falsehoods by omission or shade the truth in such a way that the obvious assumption would be completely wrong. Knowing this, the only thing John could reasonably conclude from her statement was that he and she were in some way related. It could be genetically, by power, by inclination or in some other manner. The only thing that was sure was that she considered the connection to be kinship.

"May I?" she asked John taking a half step toward the bed and Sherlock.

John glanced at Sherlock who had abandoned his drugged facade and had opened his eyes to get a good look at the Fae. "It's partially your call. She needs both of our permissions. Mine since it's my protection and yours since you are wearing it."

Sherlock looked at John then at his brother for a moment then tapped twice on the bed rail.

"That's a yes," he addressed the Fae "and I agree as well."

The girl grabbed one of the chairs and dragged it over to the side of the bed and scrambled up onto it. She then held out her hand to Sherlock. He took it with a raised eyebrow. She closed her eyes and less than a minute later opened them again. "Interesting" was her initial comment.

She released Sherlock's hand then hopped down off the chair and walked over to Mycroft. "You were correct," she addressed him as if he were the only person in the room. "This was indeed something about which I needed to know."

Mycroft inclined his head in acknowledgement, "I know better than to waste your time with trivialities."

"It was meant to keep him quiet. I suspect that the recurrence effect was unanticipated. There are several people and a few items which could modify a drug in this manner. I don't suspect an item because they are few and far between and fewer still who have enough skill to use them properly." She switched her attention back to John, "The trigger is verbal communication. Good luck at keeping a Holmes from talking for an hour or two."

"I'm sure he'll let you know how it goes," John replied dryly referring to Mycroft.

The Fae moved to the door and Mycroft moved to follow. "Good bye John Watson. Your courtesy and cautiousness will stand you in good stead with my people," were her parting words as she exited.

Mycroft paused in the doorway and gave John a level stare that clearly said we need to talk. He glanced at his brother and his eyes widened slightly. John looked over just in time to see Sherlock finish what looked like the end of a rather rude gesture. The gesture apparently derailed whatever Mycroft had been going to say and he left without a word.

John waited until Mycroft should be out of earshot then let loose the giggle he'd been holding since Sherlock's gesture. "That was a good one," he remarked. "Even unable to speak you managed to get the last word in over your brother."

Sherlock hummed in agreement then grimaced.

"Uh oh," John focused completely on Sherlock, "Did that trigger the drug to increase?"

Sherlock tapped twice, paused, then once.

"Partially then?"

Two taps.

"Well just sit tight and we'll see how fast this bit wears off."

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Look at the bright side at least you didn't knock yourself out again!" John thought for a moment. "If you could eat it might help you metabolize the remaining drugs faster," he suggested.

Another two taps.

John took that as agreement. He hit the call button and requested something for Sherlock to eat. That, of course, set off a whole series of events including an influx of other doctors, blood draws and drawn out discussions as to whether Sherlock should even be allowed to eat until the drugs were completely out of his system. The entire process severely taxed Sherlock's ability to keep quiet. In fact, the only reason he managed to do so was the fact that he could rather fluently express himself in BSL. John and a couple of the nurses knew enough to generally follow along and translate although all three of them tended to leave out the extraneous personal comments regarding intelligence, hygiene and family relationships. It took over 45 minutes but John finally managed to convince the medical establishment to provide something edible and shoo all and sundry back out of Sherlock's room.

It was another hour after Sherlock had finished eating when the lab work came back. John lifted the report from the chart at the nurse's station. "It looks like you are almost back to normal" he commented. "An hour or two more and you can chance talking again."

Discharge? Sherlock signed at him.

"They are going to try and keep you overnight I suspect. I'll see what I can do but don't count on my being able to spring you."

"I thought that was what Mycroft was for," came Lestrade's familiar voice from the doorway.

Sherlock made another rude hand gesture.

Lestrade looked surprised. He'd clearly been expecting to provoke a verbal tirade with his remark. He looked back and forth between John and Sherlock waiting for one or the other to explain.

John took pity on him and said, "Sherlock's going to be alright as long as he doesn't talk for a bit."

"What?" Lestrade looked even more confused.

"The GHB they dosed him with had a Fae spell component that triggers when he speaks. Any drug remaining in his system reverts to full potency when he talks."

"Christ," Lestrade swore. "I'm going to have to alert narcotics about that."

One off Sherlock signed.

"I don't think so," John said at the same time. "I think it was an accidental side effect to something else they were trying to do."

"Well I'll tell them just in case it shows up somewhere else then," he sighed "another thing on the ever growing to do list." Lestrade looked utterly exhausted for a moment the rallied. "I came to tell you that we identified your attackers but they are not being terribly cooperative about who they were working for."

"Oh?"

"They both have worked as bouncers for a group called Brighter Future. It's a more militant offshoot of an anti-Fae group called Golden Dawn. The Golden Dawn folks appear to be a legitimate political movement committed to working within the system to keep Fae and humans separate. This other group seems to be advocating the complete segregation of the Fae from human society by whatever means necessary. They've been on our list of potential hate-groups for a while but we've not connected them with any actual crimes. At this point we don't know if these two were working for Brighter Futures, Golden Dawn or were recruited as muscle by some unknown third party."

Sherlock glared at Lestrade and waived his hand in a gesture that clearly was come on get to the point.

"They have admitted to being hired to deliver you to particular address but they refuse to say anything about their employer. We took a look. It's a warehouse right on the river. Has a dock and everything. According to the property records it's been tied up in litigation for years. What's really strange that it doesn't look like anyone, even squatters, has been inside. Usually an abandoned building like that develops its own ecosystem once word gets out that it's abandoned."

"Did they say where got the drugs?" John asked.

"They are not talking about much of anything right now. They are just stonewalling and only dropping minor bits of information. I'm surprised that they even admitted to being hired in the first place."

Sherlock brought his hands up to sign something.

"Yes you can question them when you get out of here." He looked aside at John. "You know this is really strange. He isn't saying anything but I can still hear him!"

Sherlock snorted and John laughed outright.

"Yeah, I know," Lestrade grumbled. "He's got me trained. I'm a glorified Labrador retriever but instead of birds I fetch him cases."

Lestrade turned to leave then stopped and turned back, "Speaking of dogs John, one of the thugs is convinced that you have some sort of Irish Setter Russian Wolfhound crossbreed that attacked him."

"Uh…there was a dog in the alley when the fight started but it took off. Did you drug test him? I hit him pretty hard but concussions don't usually cause hallucinations."

"Nothing showed up on our initial drug screen. The medical folks said he was fine to keep in the cells so the concussion couldn't have been that bad. It was just strange that this is the second time you two have gotten into an altercation and someone on the losing side has mentioned a dog."

"If it happens a third time you can always try to find and arrest the dog."

Lestrade gave John a dirty look. "I'll see you two at the yard tomorrow. Text me when they release him with your ETA."

After the door had shut John looked at Sherlock who signed dog?

John nodded fractionally while shrugging. He wasn't about to talk about it here especially since in all probability Mycroft had surveillance somewhere in the room. It was clear that Sherlock had deduced as much from John's expression and body language because he didn't continue. Instead he folded his hands, arranged himself in his thinking pose and the two of them settled down to wait until the drugs were completely out of his system.

Author's Note: The next chapter ended up in draft form much quicker than I expected therefor you all get another chapter. As always let me know if you spot a typo, have a brit pick or just feel the need to comment. All are appreciated.