What Was I Thinking?

When Q arrived at the airport the next day by 004's car, Mycroft was already there. He was watching in astonishment as the boy got out of the vehicle and – rather shakily – presented an enormous backpack that seemed to be far too big for him to carry.

Q explained without his brother even having to voice the question:

"Hamilton will fly back home today from Germany and arrive here in the afternoon. I told him he'd find his car in the parking lot waiting for him. It's coded to his palm print – no trouble with who has the keys and such things. Absolutely convenient for our current situation, don't you think?"

Mycroft shrugged, not having an idea who 'Hamilton' was and not particularly interested either but a bit surprised to see his baby brother drive. He had heard that his little brother had arrived to the Christmas party by car, but hadn't seen it. And it was a completely different thing to witness such a phenomenon. How had he missed the boy grow up? When had that happened?

And what was that enormous bag for…?

"Are you planning on staying longer than a few days in Serbia, little brother?" – He asked. – "You seem to have brought your whole closet for the trip."

"Don't be daft, Myc. These are essentials for the mission! I'll show you everything in the… ahm… you know…" – He instantly became deadly pale and trembled even worse than before, not even able to say the dreaded word.

"Hey, you all right?"

The boy nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Mycroft was increasingly worried.

"Are you still sure you want to come?"

"Of course I am. Come on!" – And with that he started towards the already prepared and waiting airplane.

Contrary to his original intentions, Q eventually had to stop in front of the passenger boarding steps to take a few deep breaths for fear he would really pass out even before getting on the plane. Mycroft just put an arm around his shoulders, wisely remaining completely silent and never rushing him; understanding the boy's wish to try and overcome his fear himself. He of course knew exactly why the teenager was afraid of flying and that knowledge made him unspeakably proud of the boy for even trying. Everyone who knew the story behind the fear would understand it completely if the teenager never ever even as much as attempted a travel, let alone get as far as he had already done.

In the end, they climbed the steps – only having to stop once more halfway up for a couple of seconds –, and took their respective seats inside the cursed vehicle. The last – and only – time he had been in a plane they had been sitting on the right-hand side around the middle, so Q now had determinedly walked into the far back of the small space and had chosen a seat on the left. The boy had cold sweat running down his forehead and looked only seconds from fainting. He was shaking so hard that his brother was afraid he was already having a full-blown panic attack.

He tried to get the young boy to drink some water but he just shook his head.

"I'm pathetic." – Moaned Q dejectedly.

"No, you're not. You're the bravest person I've ever known." – Mycroft said with complete honesty. – "You're here. None of us had ever thought it possible."

"I'm beginning to doubt it was a wise idea." – Admitted the boy. – "I'm just not able…"

"Are you feeling sick? Do you need a paper bag?"

Q shook his head again, not even speaking anymore, as the pilot had just started the engines. Mycroft hugged him.

"If you want to get out… this is the last chance. It would be entirely all right."

Another headshake, and soon they were taxiing towards their designated runway.

"Did you take a pill or something?"

The boy had his eyes shut tight and tears running down his cheeks. The plane had started its accelerating run and Q gripped the elbow rest so hard, his knuckles turned white. He seemed to have trouble breathing.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm here. It's fine. You're fine. I promise."

They abruptly took off just as the youngest Holmes passed out, his last conscious thought being: 'Just what the hell was I thinking?'

Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q

He woke up ten minutes later to a very worried Mycroft holding him in his lap and washing his face with a wet napkin.

"Wha… oh…. What happened?"

"Benedict? Thank God! How are you feeling?"

"I think I've been better." – He replied and experimentally sat up. When he didn't fall right back he took it as a good sign and completely returned to his seat, still feeling totally miserable. – "What happened?" – He repeated.

"You fainted. I think you forgot to breathe."

"I didn't forget; I wasn't able to." – This time he accepted a cup of water from his brother, thankfully took a small sip, then looked around. – "Are we really in the air?"

"Flying up high in the sky, just like in fairy tales, yes."

"Wow. I did it."

"Yes, you did. I'm so very proud. Sherlock will be too."

Q drank more water cautiously but fortunately it didn't feel like it wanted to come back out again. He said no to any food though, just to be sure. After a while he started to feel stronger, so he got up and dropped his bag onto his seat.

"Woa, stop there, Benedict! You just woke up and you're still very weak. You don't have to stand up and prove anything. Just sit back down!"

"I want to show you the things I've brought, Myc. Here…" – He unzipped the bag. – "Standard radio to be able to talk to each other. Very tiny and fully concealable. Also waterproof. Well, Sherlock's was supposed to be that too… A laptop. Cell phones with GPS in them…" – He continued listing gadgets and telling Mycroft about their purposes. Thinking about work helped take off his mind of other things, just like it usually did. – "And these are our fake IDs. You're going to be a high-ranking boss nobody had seen but had been giving orders through various agents the whole time. We'll just have to pray the real big boss himself doesn't decide to make an appearance at the same time we do, because there's really a boss like that; I know it from Sherlock. I thought the role would fit you. They're going to let you into their hidden base like that and hopefully also to where Sherlock is held.

"Ingenious."

"Thank you. And I'm going to be your cowering assistant whom you keep around to do your every bidding. Nobody to pay any attention to, nobody to expect any kind of attack from."

"Are you sure-"

"Yes, I am. And this is a Serbian language book with a CD for correct pronunciation. You should begin studying it; it took me over two hours last night. It's not a particularly difficult language per se but you'll have to speak very good to make it believable. Don't worry about the accent thought, your alias is Russian."

"Why Russian?"

"I thought it was believable enough and would explain any eventual difficulties with the language. It's an international web; they don't expect everyone to be of the same nationality. Also, Sherlock thought the real boss might be Russian."

"And you have really learnt it already?" – Mycroft asked in awe, examining the students' book of Serbian with a doubtful expression.

"наравно"

"Bless you."

So Mycroft began studying the language while Q absentmindedly stared out of the window (it was a small plane, he hadn't been able to go so far into the back that he couldn't see out), determined not to find the clouds beautiful at all.

After a while Mycroft cleared his throat and asked.

"So, are you going to tell me her name?"

Q paled (even more) and tried to look like he really didn't understand the question.

"I have no idea what you're talking about Myc. I have a lot of 'hers' around me all the time."

"I'm sure you do understand… And I should also very much hope you don't have 'a lot of' girls around in that sense!" – Smirked the oldest Holmes. – "You really believed I wouldn't notice how ridiculously in love you are, brother dear?"

"Well, and did you think I wouldn't notice that you're as well?"

Mycroft looked like he wanted to deny it but then he just shrugged instead.

"Touché…"

"So, if you'll tell me about her, I'll tell you about her too."

"You begin."

"Fine: her name's Annabel, she's 18 and she'll graduate this year from high school. After that she wants to go to Oxford to study psychology and then later possible sociology. She hates Chemistry and loves Math. She is in love with Pixel and Confetti and finds Paddington Bear 'absolutely cute'. She has an older sister and they both live with their parents in a small town not very far away from us. She spent a week in my apartment to get to know London better and I took her to Oxford one day."

"She spent A WEEK with you? Aren't the two of you a bit too young for that?"

Q totally ignored him and went on with the list.

"She's beautiful and funny and as rubbish in the kitchen as I am. It's actually hilarious. I don't know who's going to feed the kids though…"

"KIDS? Benedict, what kids?"

The younger brother ignored him again.

"And she likes good food and cakes and anything sweet… I guess we're very different in that area but luckily she doesn't mind it very much if I just drink tea while she's having a three-course dinner."

"Benedict, I'll ask the last time: what kids are you talking about?"

"It's a miracle she can maintain her perfect figure. Well, there are fortunate people I guess. And she likes books and theater and music… And she isn't very interested in foreign languages all that much. And-"

"WHAT KIDS, BENEDICT!?"

"Hey, hey, you don't have to shout, I can hear you just right, Myc! We're unfortunately in a very confined place, so for God's sake; don't try to make me deaf! And don't worry, I'm just joking, of course there aren't going to be any kids-"

"Good."

"– for now."

"What!?"

"Now it's your turn! I told you everything there is to know; now you!"

"Benedict, maybe it's time to have the talk with you-"

"Don't even think about it, I'm warning you! Now I want to hear about your love interest."

Mycroft sighed defeated.

"All right, but don't think we're done talking about this!" – He warned for good measure. – "Well, her name is Alicia and is a member of the Parliament. She used to be married but her husband died not very long ago. She has helped me and Sherlock a lot and she's extremely loyal and professional. She's strong and independent. Her favorite perfume is Claire-de-la-Lune so that's what I'm going to give her for her next birthday."

"Wow. I mean: you actually know when her birthday is? And you care? Incredible."

"She has an adult daughter who has her own family with two small children. Alicia is… well… somewhat… older than me. Don't you dare laugh!"

"I wouldn't. Age doesn't matter; you should know I wouldn't complain about it. Annabel is older than me as well."

"Not by 10 years though and she isn't – hopefully – a grandmother."

"I can't find anything wrong with it. Go on."

Mycroft felt ridiculously relieved about the easy acceptance of his little brother.

"She was born in Edinburgh, Scotland, but she moved with her family to London when she was only a child. She has been living there ever since. Her daughter lives in Surrey. And she was the one to ask me out first… Well, actually, I asked her out but not before she literally ordered me to do so."

"You can be ordered to do something? Wow. You must like her a lot. Usually, you'd kill anyone who dared try it. Well, but it figures. I don't think you'll be surprised to hear that it wasn't me initiating the first conversation with Annabel either."

"You know, little brother, I think we're more similar than we would have originally thought."

"Funny how I always used to think I resembled Sherlock more."

"You have something of both of us but you have also your own personality. Mother and Father would be proud."

"They would be proud of us all, especially since we wouldn't tell them anything they couldn't be proud of."

"Very true. Let's face it: we're sneaky bastards."

"That we are. And that's exactly what we need right now."