"Dear God," John muttered, peering into the glass enclosure at the creature. "It's incredible. A real alien."
Sherlock snorted indignantly. "John, you live with an alien."
"I mean one that doesn't look human" he clarified. After three hours of trying every weapon in the base to break through the lockdown, they had eventually had to accept that there was no way to bust out. Toshiko was still trying to override the computer systems, but in the meantime Jack had been explaining to John just what it was Torchwood did.
"This one's a Weevil, we call it Janet," Jack said, beaming proudly as John stared at it in fascination.
"It's called a Solarangic Parasite, and they don't have names," Sherlock grumbled under his breath.
"Humans like to name things, Kid, we've talked about this," Jack said.
John glanced at the Captain nervously. "You keep calling him kid. Sherlock said you were family...are you human?"
Jack laughed. "Mostly. I've known Sherlock since he was a baby, though. I'm his Godfather."
"You look forty," John said flatly.
"Well thanks. You don't look so bad yourself," Jack winked.
"Jack, I said don't," Sherlock snapped.
Jack patted John on the back. "Say, John, why don't you go find Owen? He's a medical Doctor too, he's got some great diagrams of alien biology you might want to take a look at."
John headed up the stairs and Sherlock went to follow him. Jack caught a hold of Sherlock's coat, holding him back. They waited until the other man was out of earshot before Jack spoke.
"Alright, what's up with you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You haven't been this snippy since you were six and found out Sea Lions aren't actually water-breathing lions."
Sherlock waved his arms. "My brother has been kidnapped, the Doctor is unreachable, and Moriarty is back. How should I be acting?"
"This doesn't have anything at all to do with the ultimatum you mother gave you?"
Sherlock scoffed. "You two cackle like hens! When did she even tell you?"
"About a week ago. Week from now. Both," he said, pausing a moment. "I hate split timelines, two sets of memories. Did he turn you down?"
"I haven't said anything."
Jack tutted. "I think Rose is pretty serious about this. A global threat isn't going to distract her. If I were you-"
"I was trying," Sherlock hissed. "I was trying to talk to him when your stupid Stormtroopers burst in and wrecked our flat!"
Jack smirked. "Really? Well, we're not going to interrupt you here. If we're really stuck down here, you have some time. We can make ourselves scarce-"
"I'm not doing it here. It's hardly the time."
"In other words, what if he says he's not interested and you're stuck with him."
Sherlock sighed.
"I could...you know, help. I could talk to him a little bit, maybe flirt a little, see what his deal is."
"Why does every member of this family think they have to get involved in my love life?" Sherlock growled.
Jack stared at him. "Oh my God. You love him?"
Sherlock just glared back at him.
Jack sighed. "We're just excited. We haven't...we haven't seen you care about something this much since you were a kid."
"You mean before I screwed everything up."
"You had a dark time. I've lived a long life, and had worse phases than you did. What's important is your back with us now. If John keeps you grounded you bet your ass we're going to be involved."
"Just, please don't try to help. I will get this over with in my own time."
TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT
John flipped excitedly through the hand written medical book Owen had given him, taking in the various species he'd never seen before. Here he'd been, thinking he knew all there was to know about medicine, and now there were organs he didn't even know the name of, much less the function they provided. The man who had- who would have, he reminded himself- broken into his flat came to stand next to him.
"Can I get you some coffee, Dr. Watson?"
"I'd love some tea, if you have it."
Ianto nodded and brought him small cup, settling himself down across the table. "So, how do you know Jack?"
"Uh, I don't really," John said carefully. In the last few weeks he had slowly been getting better at working around Sherlock's family secrets. "He's Sherlock's old friend."
"Ah," Ianto nodded knowingly. "Yeah, he has a lot of those. He's not the one who got him pregnant that time, is he?"
John choked a little on his tea. "What? Sherlock? No...I didn't get that vibe. I think they're more like family."
"Oh," Ianto said. "Well, good. That's good."
John tapped his fingers awkwardly against the table. "You, um…" he struggled for words. "You and the Captain are together?"
Ianto sighed and rubbed the back of his head, clearly uncomfortable. "I think so. Jack is difficult to understand sometimes. He's not like any other person I've ever met. He's alien, but mostly human, and sometimes I can't tell which side is in charge."
John snorted. "I've been there."
"Is your boyfriend the same way?"
John stared at him and felt redness creep up his cheeks. "My...You mean Sherlock? Oh, no, he's just my flatmate. Well, I mean not just my flatmate, we're friends, good ones. In fact he's probably my best friend. He's brilliant, and we spend a lot time together, but...I'm not…"
"Gay?" Ianto asked. "Me neither. But look at us both."
John rubbed the bridge of his nose. This wasn't the first time someone had mistaken the two of them for a couple. At first, he'd never understood why someone would make that mistake. Lately though it had become more common. Even the Doctor, when he'd asked him to babysit the child-sized Sherlock, had assumed he was his boyfriend. One or two incidents he could brush off, but as it happened again and again he was starting to wonder what everyone seemed to be picking up on. Did they stand too close, or whisper too much?
"Sorry," Ianto shrugged innocently. "I must have assumed incorrectly."
The other man moved to stand but John caught him. "Could you tell me why? Why did you think that?"
Ianto shrugged. "You look at him the way I look at Jack. It's like he's the most fascinating thing in the room, and not to brag but, have you actually seen where you are?"
John nodded. "Thanks." Ianto wandered off and left the doctor to his thoughts. John flipped half-heartedly through the book, lost in thought. So it was the way he looked at Sherlock that caused the confusion, not anything they were doing together. That was important to know. It meant that any perceived affection was one sided. Even if he was interested in the detective, there was no indication that his feelings were reciprocated. He'd always thought Sherlock was a bit different, and now that he knew that for sure it wouldn't surprise him to learn that Gallifreyans were completely asexual and aromantic. Mycroft certainly gave off that impression.
Wait. The Doctor and Rose. John frowned. If it was alien genetics that changed the way Half-Gallifreyans looked at relationships, then why would the full-blooded Timelord himself be in a relationship with a human? There were only two beings in the universe like Sherlock, was it fair to say they would be exactly alike? Maybe it was just Mycroft himself he had no interest in romance, and Sherlock preferred...Not that it mattered, anyway.
Ianto was heading back towards the kitchen when Jack caught his arm. The Captain leaned in closely to the man's ear and whispered. "How did he react?"
Ianto smiled. "He was flustered, but didn't argue much."
"You think Sherlock has a chance?"
"Maybe. He should go for it."
Jack nodded. "He better."
TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT
"Rose!" the Doctor called.
The human in question groaned and pushed her face further into the pillow, trying to get a few more minutes of sleep. If she could just pretend she hadn't heard him maybe she could-
"Rose?" he called again, poking his head around the corner into their bedroom. "Oh, you're awake, good. Have you seen my reading glasses?"
"I haven't seen anything, my eyes are closed," she grumbled groggily.
"I mean recently. Last night maybe? I could have sworn I had them on Woman Wept, I couldn't read the hieroglyphics without them. Rose, can you hear me?"
She groaned noncommittally. The bed depressed beside her and she knew he had crawled under the covers with her. Long familiar arms snaked around her middle and she happily rolled over and rested her head against his shoulder. He waited a few long moments before whispering, "Slow waking for the human this morning?"
She nodded. "I couldn't sleep all night."
"Again? It's been weeks."
"I know," she sighed. "I just can't get comfortable."
He smirked. "Maybe you're pregnant again."
She shivered. "Don't even joke. Twice was plenty. Besides I slept fine with Sherlock, it was just Mycroft that kept me awake."
He held her for a long moment, letting her wake up against him. Finally he squeezed her shoulder. "Sweetheart?"
"Hmm?"
"Have you seen my reading glasses?"
She chuckled once, and her hand snuck underneath his suit jacket. She searched around for a few moments, and then pulled it out holding the spectacles. "These glasses?"
"Oh," he blinked at them strangely. "I could have sworn I checked there."
"You never check the left side. Silly Old Man," she smiled placing a kiss against his neck.
"You want pancakes?" he asked.
"With blueberries."
"Mycroft's favorite?"
"I had a dream about him. We haven't seen him since that the Weeping Angel incident, I'll ask him to come to breakfast."
"Of course," he said, giving her another gentle squeeze as he hopped out of bed. "Let me know if he's free and get a time and place, I'll pick him up."
She nodded and pulled out her cellphone, hitting the second speed dial. It wasn't until the seventh ring that she started to get worried. Mycroft was always busy, but he answered her calls eventually. When it went to voicemail she sat up, listening attentively to the message.
"You've reached Mycroft Holmes' private number. If you have a security clearance below Level Twenty, hang up immediately. If this is Sherlock, I did not take your cigarettes, stop asking. If this is Mother, send Uncle Jack my best and I promise I'm eating all of my celery. If this is any other family member, I will return your message shortly." There was a beep, but Rose was hanging up and throwing on clothes for the day.
The Doctor was pouring pancakes onto the stove when she made her way out of the bedroom. "Doctor, listen to this," she said, redialing Mycroft. She let the phone ring several times, then pressed the speaker so they could hear the message.
The Doctor shrugged sadly. "Ah, well, we can't expect them home every time we get the inclination, eh? If you had your way they'd still live here full time."
"I mean the voicemail," Rose said. "He's changed it. It doesn't sound like him."
"Really? It sounded like his voice to me."
"Not the voice, the words. Why would he ask me to send Jack his best?"
"You do call him a lot," the Doctor reasoned, but his face was starting to mirror his concern.
"And what about celery? When have I ever had to fight Mycroft on eating vegetables? Why say something like that?"
The Doctor paled. "I used to carry celery, a long time ago. I wore it on my lapel, and if it turned purple I knew the air was poison to Gallifreyans. He's done a lot of research on my time on Earth, he could know that."
"He's sending us a message," Rose said, but the Doctor was already turning off the stove and taking a bite out of his only finished pancake.
"Let's go."
The TARDIS was still kept in the same place it always was while they were at home. The need to park it in one place was long since over, but the couple had found they liked to spend more and more time in the old house together. The place was emptier physically, but full of memories they wanted to keep alive.
The Doctor was at the console in a minute while Rose tried Sherlock's number. There were several long rings, and then nothing. Not even a voicemail. Her heart started to pound a little faster.
"Rose," the Doctor said, horror dawning over his face. "Something's wrong."
"I know, they always answer," she said, dialing again.
"Not with the phones, with the TARDIS," the Doctor turned to her, the color draining from his face. "It's not responding."
"What do you mean?"
"We're stuck here," he said, slapping at the dash in frustration. "The boys are in trouble, and we're trapped."
