Ianto didn't spend much time in the tourist office anymore actually. When he wasn't out on missions, in the archives, or tending to the upkeep of the Hub, he was often found in Jack's office doing paperwork (Jack's paperwork) or just generally keeping Jack company when he was wading through the obligatory government agency phone calls. But Dr. Martha Jones was in town, and so Ianto cleared out in order to allow the old friends to visit with one another. The archives were out because the previous week level 6 flooded. Ianto spent hours on end in the dank shin-deep mess salvaging what he could. If he never saw those pair of waders again it would be too soon. So, working at the computer in the tourist office it was.
He was just moving onto his third and final stack of files (circa 1895) for scanning into the modern database when the little brass bell over the door tinkled its alert that someone had arrived.
"What can I help you with today," Ianto looked up and his voice trailed off. "Oh. It's you two." He deadpanned.
"You were expecting us, then?" John asked in a bit of bewilderment. He was quite surprised to see Mr. Jones standing behind the desk of the dusty hole-in-the-wall tourist office, and almost equally surprised to see that Mr. Jones was not surprised to see them. Sherlock, of course, just looked pleased with himself.
"Pardon me, where are my manners" Replied Ianto Jones as he straightened his waistcoat and started to put on his suit coat over it. "If I seem less than enthused it is simply because I just lost the pool on when you would find us, Mr. Holmes. I had tomorrow afternoon's time slot."
As he said this he also slid an impressive hand-gun out from under his unassuming countertop and quickly holstered it in the back of his belt before then saying "If you will follow me, gentlemen."
A false wall slid out of the way to reveal a hidden hallway. Mr. Jones motioned for them to follow.
"Who won the bet then?" Sherlock asked as they walked along the damp corridor.
"Owen, I believe."
They came to an elevator and all entered.
Mr. Jones briefly looked unsure of himself, then turned abruptly to Sherlock.
"Before we join the others, if I may ask, how did you know?"
"How did I know where to find you? Well it was really rather..."
"No, actually, although I'm sure everyone would love to hear about that. I mean, how did you know about me and Jack. How did you know we were together?" The young man in the tailored suit suddenly seemed to find his shoes very interesting. The question he posed was not on behalf of his role at Torchwood. It was his own question.
"Hmmm. Well my memory is a little fuzzy on the topic." Sherlock responded coldly.
"Yeah, sorry for that." Said Mr. Jones with a wince.
Sherlock let the silence stretch for only a few seconds. In the end, genius did love an audience more than Sherlock liked holding a grudge.
"From what I can recall, Captain Harkness's posture was always just slightly turned in your direction. Also, whenever you were talking, he allowed his gaze to stray from your face to the red mark on your neck, the perimeter of which was just barely visible at the edge of your collar. When he did so his pupils would quickly dilate. Who else would not only notice but also get excited about the subtle love bite besides the one who put it there. And lastly, it was your socks."
"My socks?" Asked Ianto with a knitted brow. They were out of the elevator and approaching a large, round door.
"Not your individual socks, but both of your pairs of socks. They were the same fabric and brand. The rest of Captain Harkness's attire is functional army surplus and durable cottons. The socks were silk, clearly more suited to your style. When does a boss where his employee's socks? When he stays over at his flat and forgets to bring an extra pair along."
The huge, heavy cog-shaped door was rolling open. Mr. Jones straightened his suit coat, back to business again, but not before breathing a quick "That was brilliant."
"And that's John's line." Sherlock replied.
The three men stepped through the door.
"Gentlemen, welcome to Torchwood 3 headquarters. Or as we call it, the Hub."
John looked around and then up, quite far up actually. He hadn't realized that the elevator had taken then so deep under street level. He could smell moisture in the air and could hear dripping water coming from somewhere. Of course that made sense, considering that this underground lair was just a few hundred yards from Mermaid Quay. John felt a nervous and excited giggle bubbling up.
"We're in a lair" he thought to himself.
John reached a hand out to catch the sleeve of Sherlock's Belstaff, just to give it a tug, as words had escaped him. When the two finally tore their eyes away from the immense structure too share a quick look, John saw that Sherlock was pulling his very best "I'm actually not impressed" face. But John knew better. Tucked beneath relaxed lashes and one eye brow quirked into "don't bore me" position, Sherlocks eyes were alight with excitement. Mr. Jones stepped ahead of them to lead them up a metal stair case. John tried to follow Sherlock's lead and not show his astonishment. But halfway up the stairs Sherlock grabbed John's hand and gave it a quick squeeze then turned his eyes pointedly upward and flashed a brief but genuine smile. John followed his gaze and saw
"Dear God is that a flying dinosaur!?"
Sherlock sighed heavily. Without having to look, John could hear the eye roll that accompanied it.
"Ah! Dr. Watson! Mr. Holmes! And yes, doctor, that is a genuine flying dinosaur. We call her Myfanwy. She's our guard dog of sorts. Does tricks and everything. Wanna show them Ianto?"
"Fresh out of chocolate at the moment, sir."
"Chocolate? The dinosaur likes chocolate? Of course it does. And I thought bloody Baskerville was bad." John said in a high, manic voice to no one in particular.
"Captain Harkness, is there somewhere we can meet, I believe John needs to sit down." Sherlock asked.
"I'm fine Sherlock" John rebutted.
"John" Sherlock fixed John with a pointed stare, then looked down to their hands. Their hands were joined still from when Sherlock took hold to get John's attention. John was holding on with a white knuckle grip. He let go quickly.
"Sorry" He muttered and withdrew his hand quickly.
"It's fine" Sherlock responded in a softer tone than usual.
"The team is already assembled in the conference room, gentlemen. Tosh caught your arrival in the CCTV feed."
John got himself composed as they continued up the stairs to the room where the rest of "the team" was awaiting them.
Ianto entered behind them and crossed directly to the only other male in the room, handing the shorter man with sharp features a twenty pound note, who in turn pocketed it with an air of smugness.
"This is Dr. Owen Harper, our medic and pathologist, depending on how the day is going" said Jack.
He then motioned to the Asian woman with glasses and a ready smile "Toshiko Sato, resident wicked genius."
"Jack!" She reprimanded with embarrassment and a nervous laugh, suddenly transformed from composed programmer to a shy school girl.
"Next is Gwen Cooper, formerly of the Cardiff Police Department" The petite brunette did a mock salute but then leaned across the table for a warm handshake. John returned it, Sherlock did not.
"And this nightingale is our other guest, courtesy of UNIT, the lovely Dr. Martha Jones. She brought the case of these mysterious deaths to our attention in the first place."
The beautiful doctor looked up from where she was reviewing records with Dr. Harper to grace them both with a startling smile and a "Hello".
Jack addressed his crew "This, though I am sure they need no introduction, is Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson."
"Freaking fabulous. Another bloody doctor. We are simply awash in excess medical personnel this week." griped Dr. Harper.
"Oh don't mind him" said Ms. Sato "He's just been up for too many hours and he's getting testy about sharing his precious lab. Also," she leaned in and stage-whispered to John "he's trying hard not to get all fan-girly around you two. He's the one who turned on the rest of us to your blogs."
"I am not a fan-girl!" exclaimed Owen. Simultaneously Sherlock inquired pointedly "blogs?"
"Oh yeah," continued Tosh, ignoring the dirty look from Owen. "We all get email alerts whenever Dr. Watson posts updates, and Owen and I also follow your 'Science of Deduction' website. In fact, your explanations of how you formed some of your deductions inspired one of the search programs I am working on."
Sherlock replied with a "Hmm" that actually managed to sound impressed and flattered. He then threw a small smirk to John that wordlessly but very clearly translated to "I told you people read my website, too."
John couldn't help but chuckle.
"Gentlemen, can I offer you each a refreshment? I can imagine the effects of the drug have left your throats rather raw even after a almost a day. I had the unfortunate privilege of being an unwilling test subject when Owen was first developing the aerosol version of Retcon." Offered Mr. Jones, a scowl briefly directed at Dr. Harper.
"Ha! Yeah! It was a slow day so I basically threw a cherry bomb of the stuff into the archives. He was unconscious for 4 hours and woke up complaining about 'Now I don't know where I left off!'" Giggled Owen, ending with a very poor Welsh accent.
"Oi! Ever heard about 'informed consent' Dr.?" Rounded Ianto, actually letting his temper show through.
"Oh calm down Tea-boy! I was fairly sure it was stable!"
"Fairly sure!?"
"Ianto, he did stay and take your vitals every 15 minutes." added Toshiko in a placating tone.
Ianto looked to her and calmed slightly, breathed heavily through his nose once, then conceded "Well, water under the bridge now. Or should I say it was decaf for 2 months under the bridge." Ianto ignored Owen's mouthing of the words "I knew it!" pointed in his direction and turned back to the Hub's two esteemed guests.
"So, gentlemen, coffee or tea? Water?"
John thought tea sounded lovely and was about to say so when Sherlock replied "Coffee. Get the coffee John. By the state of the fresh grounds of a rare bean around Mr. Jones's cuticles and the slight callous at the web of his thumb, the man clearly knows his way around a barista machine. John takes his black, no sugar. Black, two sugars for me, thanks."
Ianto raised his eyebrows slightly, nodded and exited to fulfill the drink order. John saw the younger man steal a look at his own hand on the way out the door.
"So Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson, are you here just to get the twenty-five cent tour of the Hub and then be on your way, or would you like to make yourselves useful on this case we are working on?" Asked Jack.
All eyes turned to Sherlock, including John's. John was still skeptical if they should even be willing to drink the kindly-offered beverages given that last time they encountered Torchwood they were thoroughly drugged, never mind working with them on an investigation. He saw Sherlock's wheels turning. The plan had been to find Torchwood, get as much info on their operation as possible, and then possibly release it to the public. It was for the purpose of (on John and Lestrade's part) letting the public know about this potentially dangerous entity in their midst. On Sherlock's part, it was the thrill of knowing things that very few others were privy to, and, being able to really stick it to Mycroft for keeping it from him all those years. But this offer had not factored into their original plan. Sherlock met John's eyes. His mouth twitched up just a hair on one side. John knew the answer before Sherlock issued it. As always with Sherlock, John was in for a penny, in for a pound.
Always.