Chapter 22: Confrontation in Lock-up part 2

'Well this is one fucked up mess, isn't it?' Steph thought while she observed the soldier, and apparently doctor, beside her with a wide smile. She knew she wasn't fooling him, but this was how she worked and that wasn't going to change with 9 about to go berserk. She was going to do her best and if that didn't work out, she was going to do her job. But first she needed information and there were fun ways to get it.

"So, sugar, I heard you know how to show a girl a good time? What do you have to offer?" She asked with a thick American accent. He looked taken aback for a moment, probably had a girl waiting for him at home, before recovering. He looked at her before she saw something in his mind klick and a sly smile settled over his lips.

"Well if you party like I suspect you do I have hand to hand, small arms and medical, both first and second role, to offer." He replied with an amused voice.

"Oh honey, I like the way you talk dirty." She flirted back. "But have you got what it takes to keep a girl satisfied? You should know I'm very hard to please." The soldier was sniggering now and shaking his head in exasperation.

"Oh, I've been told I'm an expert at throwing parties. They didn't call me three continents Watson for nothing you know." Watson joked back.

"Oeh, you make me shiver." She said throwing him a wink. He laughed. She had to say she was impressed. Last she heard, the RAMC didn't deliver soldiers that were experts in small arms and hand to hand combat. But apparently, there was a first time for everything. She wondered if he was on leave.

"I'm sure." He deadpanned. "So, how do you want this party to go then? Have you done this before?" He asked. Oh, so now it was his turn to question her. And if she wasn't careful, if she let slip even a moment of hesitation, he'd take over. And she couldn't let that happen. Not for 9's sake. Not for Q's.

"Plenty of times, lover boy." She saw him wince at the implications. Well she wasn't lying. All of them had been through the wringer at least once during their careers, except for 6 because he simply hadn't been there long enough. They all had the scars. Mostly they picked each other up and tried not to involve medical. "As for how I like to play. I like being on top. That way I can whisper all kinds of dirty words in his ears."

"And if that doesn't work? Can we sedate him?" He asked. She shook her head. 009 had developed an immunity to sedatives. It took about the same amount that downed elephants to knock him out.

"Nope. But don't worry, he'll be fine." She reassured him with another one of her brilliant smiles that usually made hearts melt, but he quickly seemed to develop immunity for.

"And if he isn't?" He asked and for a moment she imagined pulling that trigger before she quickly suppressed it.

"He'll be fine." She said, brimming with the determination she was determined to feel. Apparently, some of her anguish had shown on her face because he definitely knew what her plan was. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, to want to protest, before his face settled with the same determination she was making herself feel. He nodded. He would follow her lead.

'Well, no time like the present,' she thought and she nodded to the camera in the corner. An alarm went off for a second before it was terminated, giving some clue as to what Q had done to get the door open remotely, before she focussed completely on the target that was moving beyond it.

The way 9 strode out of the cell was describable in one word, lethal. His entire body primed to put anyone standing in his way into the floor, permanently. With Watson at her back, she stepped determinedly into his path.

"Hello, dahling." She had time to say, before he put both of them on the floor. She quickly rolled away from him before he could punch her lights out. His fist hit the floor hard enough to break bones but it also left his side open and she forced her elbow into his already damaged ribs. He rolled off her, right into Watson's path who took the opening and dove on his back. They wrestled, Watson evading lightning quick elbow jabs and kicks while trying to get him into a hold. She quickly joined them on the floor landing on top of Watson, using her legs to lock in one arm while her hands quickly found the other. Watson squirmed himself down and around and sat on his legs with his hands on his ankles. It wasn't the most gracious of pins. But it worked to keep the squirming man under control.

"Oh, baby you always know how to make my day, don't you?" She said and then started on a monologue talking about anything and everything. Usually it meant the victim was subjected to a retelling of an episode of whatever sci-fi series she had been watching the night before. This time it was Doctor Who. On and on she went about Amy Pond and Matt Smith's doctor and why she liked David Tennant's Doctor better. To no effect it seemed because after about 15 minutes he was still struggling and she was starting to run out of patience.

"Damn it. He heard her grouch, her cheerful Doctor Who tirade -he did not agree with her on her choice of doctor by the way- grinding to a hold. She bent over and spoke softly in their patient's ear. It normally wouldn't be loud enough for him to hear but noise travelled in this corridor so he heard every word. "If you don't calm down right now,9, I will put a bullet into your brain and M can start looking for a replacement."

'Oh shit,' John thought. In the special forces, you heard rumours about the even more obscure branches. None were as fantastical then the rumours about the Double-0 program. The nine elite agents, named 001 to 009, that got the toughest jobs. Their mortality rate 100%. These agents gave everything, their minds and their bodies, for their country knowing that they would die in the field. Their devotion to the job far outstripped that of any special forces soldier and they were both envied and pitied for it. No one knew who they were. Their faces and names belonged to MI6. John hadn't thought he'd ever meet one of them, or know when he did.

009 froze for a second before he struggled again. "Fuck you, 1. Get off me." Or two of them for that matter.

"Oh, honey you can fuck me anytime." 001 flirted back which seemed to be her default setting. "You don't have to get yourself arrested for it. But I'm not getting off you until I'm sure you're not going to kill my principal."

As if on cue, Greaves stepped out of his shadow, his other guard on his heels.

"Mr. Bassey." Greaves sounded a lot like Mycroft when pissed, but worse, because it held an element of bitter disappointment. John looked around and saw the man standing straight and radiating power the same way he'd seen Mycroft do. "Get yourself under control or I'll make you go through every psych evaluation known to man before I really start making your life miserable. You are no good to me on the floor." 009 turned his head to the source of the sound before he seemed to freeze. After a while he finally relaxed.

"Get off me." 009 said again but this time the tone was different. It seemed to satisfy 001 as she got on her feet, tapping him on the shoulder to get off as well. 009 rolled over and stood up as if he didn't have anything wrong with his ribs, though the blow 001 had delivered would definitely have cracked them. Silently he stood before Greaves who looked his agent over with an intense stare. Like he could deduce the smallest details, like Sh… He shook his head to clear his thoughts. This wasn't the time to dwell on times gone by.

"Good, let's get out of here." Greaves said and walked towards the door where Lestrade stood waiting completely baffled by everything that was going on. His agents were hot on his tail, once again their professional selves, even 009. John Followed. Greaves glanced over to him as they got to the door.

"Captain, if you'll take care of Lestrade for me, I'll take care of the rest." He said as a way of dismissal.

"Yes sir." He answered though he wasn't exactly sure what he was taking care of.

"Good, you know who to call if he needs to sign." Oh, now he understood. "Goodbye Captain." He said as they walked away.

"Jesus Christ, John." Greg said as they watched the group walk out the door like nothing had happened. "What the hell was that?"

"Yeah you see, that's the kind of thing you don't want to do." He answered softly. Greg looked at him in confusion.

"Do what?" He asked just as softly.

"Ask questions." John simply answered.

"Huh?" Greg looked completely confused. John decided to take pity on him.

"Nothing happened here this morning. You went home like you usually do after working all night on whatever case you have. I was never here. They were never here. So, don't ask questions and it would be better if you simply forget anything happened." John told him as simple as possible. He did not want to take the word classified into his mouth. If he did that then Greg would have to sign and he would have to deal with Mycroft. And he did not want to deal with Mycroft. They had developed what Mycroft called a difficult relationship.

"What the fuck, John. I can't simply forget this. You're both in the system. I have a report to write." Greg was losing his temper and started talking louder.

"Shhhh. Not so loud." John said, slowly losing his patient with how obtuse Greg was being. "No, we're not in the system. Not anymore. It's been taken care of. Now stop being difficult. I don't want to have to make that call."

"What call?" John closed his eyes for a moment understanding what Sherlock used to feel when dealing with the Yard. He didn't have the patience to deal with this now.

"The one where Mycroft Holmes has you sign the Official Secrets Act. Now last chance." He hissed. Greg looked back in shock as the penny finally dropped.

"Okay, okay. Nothing happened, I swear." He said. John studied him, making sure the message had well and truly landed. "Honestly John, I'll forget all about it. I just want to go home and find my bed. I hate dealing with Mycroft. He's such a stuck-up prick." Greg was backpedalling so fast John had to snigger.

"Good, now let's get out of here." He said clapping Greg on the shoulder.

Half an hour later they walked out of the Yard, both determined never to talk about this again.