ONE MONTH LATER…

John Watson made his way through the crowded streets of London, mindful of the ever watchful street cameras following him. He turned the collar of his jacket up, not against the chill of the early evening air, but a subconscious move; no one liked to be watched.

Finally, he made it to the pub that was quickly becoming their regular, it was rather small and tucked down a side street, it also happened to be a blind spot from nosey street cameras. John gripped the handle of the door and pulled it open, the warmth and sounds of patrons enjoying themselves hit him immediately, along with the smell of beer and something delicious from the kitchen. There was something homey about the pub; it felt safe, welcoming and a place where you could forget your troubles for a couple of hours.

After a few moments of scanning the tables, John spotted a hand waving at him from the back wall, he nodded to the silver haired man and weaved his way through the tables.

"Greg," John extended his hand as he reached their table.

Greg leant forward and shook his hand briefly, "We were starting to worry you weren't going to make it."

"Yeah, well, you know how Sherlock can be, and he just had to find his harpoon," John rolled his eyes then turned to the other man at the table, "how are you, James?"

"As good as one can be after being almost blown up by a mad scientist into biochemical warfare," James replied with a hint of mirth and they also shook hands.

"What could Sherlock possibly need a harpoon for?" Greg asked in weary disbelief.

"Experiments or something, you know, the usual," John told him casually; it was a regular occurrence with Sherlock. He was about to sit down when he noticed that the table was missing something, "I'll get the first round," John announced and headed over to the bar.

He made it back to the table with three pints and without spilling a drop, he placed one in front of each of them on the table and took a seat on the worn wooden chair.

"How is Julian?" John asked James and took a long drink from his glass.

"He adopted another cat while I was away last time, we're going to be overrun with the furballs soon," James' tone said he was annoyed but his face had a soppy expression.

"Maybe you should get a bigger place," John suggested.

"What did he name this one?" Greg enquired.

"Fredderick," James sighed, "you might be right John, although, that might encourage him to adopt more cats, and god knows what else."

They all laughed and drank, they talked about the footy and which gun they all preferred to carry and why. Greg got the second round of pints and James the third. By the time John set (almost dropped) the fourth round on the table, they were feeling pleasantly buzzed and a bit more audacious.

"So, Greg, never got to ask…what happened with you and Mycroft during that whole anomaly thing?" John questioned.

James smirked into his glass.

Greg flushed slightly, "I don't ask you the nitty grittys about you and Sherlock."

"Doesn't mean you don't want to know though, as if you haven't been curious at least once," John countered.

"Yeah, alright, but you can't let it get back to Mycroft."

John and James both made the motion of crossing their hearts and leant in to Greg.

"Well, not a lot happened during the anomaly event, just, um, bit of snogging in the gardens, made some dinner plans. It was more what happened after, look, let's just say that dinner was really nice, but dessert was something else entirely, if you know what I mean," Greg blushed bright red and tried to hide it behind his glass.

James chuckled, "Holmes', Q is one of the most exhilarating bed partners I've ever had, and I have no doubt that Sherlock and Mycroft are for you both as well."

"That's one way to put it," John nodded in agreement.

"After long years of a falling apart marriage, I didn't think I'd feel this way again, but I think, I think I love Mycroft," Greg's eyes went wide, "bloody hell, I just said that out loud."

John glanced at James, "Welcome to the club, should I get another round to celebrate?" he teased.

"Shut it, John," Greg threw back.

"Have you told him yet?" James queried.

"No! We've only just started really, I don't want to scare him with all the feelings stuff," Greg admitted.

John nodded with a thoughtful expression on his face, "Understandable."

"Just because you don't say it, doesn't mean you can't show it," James assured him, "it'll happen when it's meant to."

"Mr Relationship Advice over here," John joked.

Greg stifled a laugh and then the laughter left his face. John raised an eyebrow and glanced over his shoulder to where Greg was staring, he groaned and drained the rest of his glass.

James' hand was already on his gun, "The woman?"

"You won't need the gun, she's not that kind of threat," John told him.

"Who is she?"

"'Anthea'," John answered simply as an attractive brunette approached their table.

"Good evening, Mr Bond, please come with me," Anthea said coolly without acknowledging anyone else at the table.

"Where exactly are we going?" James didn't move.

"For a chat."

James still seemed confused but John knew exactly what this was, it had happened to him a few years ago, "Remember when I asked if you'd been kidnapped yet, well this is it, it's easier to just go with her."

James nodded, "This should be interesting at least," he rose from his seat and put on his jacket, "lovely evening chaps, we should do it again."

"Good luck, mate," John offered.

"Don't let him get under your skin," Greg advised.

"Cheers, see you blokes later."

Anthea turned to Greg then, "Mr Holmes requests your presence at his home at half past nine."

"He could have asked me himself, but tell him I'll be there," Greg replied, anticipation growing.

XXX

The sleek black car pulled up in front of what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse, and when James didn't move Anthea told him to exit the car. There wasn't a lot of light outside the car but James had adept night vision and could see a door that led inside the warehouse, he figured that was where he needed to go.

Upon opening the creaky tin door, James knew he was correct. Inside Mycroft stood alone in the middle of the room, clutching the handle of a folded down black umbrella. There was a portable light set up to his right and a wooden chair in front of him.

"Ah, Mr Bond, have a seat," Mycroft motioned to the chair.

"Why exactly am I here, Mr Holmes?" James sat in the seat; he would play nice for now.

"I care about my brothers deeply Mr Bond. It has always been my responsibility to take care of them. Sherlock from a young age needed me to watch out for him, and it only became worse the older he got, the reprieve for him is John Watson. At least he allows John to look out for him. Julian however, was rather the opposite, quiet, his nose stuck in technology; building, creating, hacking, coding, programming. I gave him a position in MI6 because I knew he would be safe there and I could easily keep an eye on him. What I did not anticipate was his relationship with you, Mr Bond," Mycroft pointed at James with the end of his umbrella.

"And you don't like me, you don't believe I am worthy of someone like Julian, because you've read my file? I would give my life for his in a heartbeat, he's not a mark or a target, or someone to get information out of, he's not a fuck buddy or a fling. I love Julian, Mr Holmes, and it would mean a lot to him if you could accept that he is happy," James let Mycroft have it, it wasn't fair on Q.

"You are a spy with a rough history, how can I believe that the life you lead could make my brother happy?"

"With all the cameras and people you have spying on us, how can you not see his happiness, how can you not see that I look after him? Or are you so consumed with controlling your brother's lives that you can't see past your own ego? I thought it was jealousy in the beginning, but now you have Greg, and I see you just need to control them because it makes you believe they are safe if you control them," James was angry now, it was taking some control to stay in his chair.

"How dare you presume to know, to understand, my motives," Mycroft was no longer calm and collected, Bond was digging into his sore spots and he didn't appreciate it.

"Mr Holmes, I couldn't give a damn about your motives, I only care about Julian, he is the only reason I am here tolerating this nonsense."

It was then that something Greg had said to him in the botanical gardens came to the front of Mycroft's thoughts, and he wondered for a moment if he was wrong about Bond. He recalled many moments between the pair that he had witnessed either directly or through his own sources. He hadn't seen it because he hadn't been looking for it, he hadn't considered that this agent could truly mean anything to his brother, "Very good, Mr Bond. You are free to go."

"Just like that? What's the catch?" James was suspicious as hell.

"You be good to my brother and keep him safe, and we won't have any further problems. Fail to comply and they will never find you. Do we understand each other?" Mycroft waited for the answer.

"I believe we do, Mr Holmes," James assured him.

"Good, the car will take you home."

James got up and made it to the door before Mycroft spoke a final time.

"Please give Julian my regards to you both."