"Hello mother. Or must we call you but you're codename, M? Like we have to with our own brother?" Sherlock wasn't in the best mood, but he almost sounded sad. Like not being able to call his brother by his name upset him.
"We are in a business that deals with the world's most dangerous people every bloody day and you think you can just go around, saying names? I'm taking a risk even letting you in here. Much less you let anyone know our relation or names." She stood. "But then again you never were one for confidentiality. Always posting about you're crimes online, boasting about how clever you are. You're lucky someone hasn't tried to kill you yet."
"People have tried to kill me, mother."
"And good for them! That should teach you to be a little less public about everything!" she turned to Mycroft. "And you let people get close enough to your little brother for him to almost get killed?"
"W-well, I can't stop e-every bloody idiot in E-England, mother." Mycroft was suddenly nervous and even had a stutter.
"Oh, shut up! The both of you!" M crossed her arms, and looked at John and Anthea. "Who are these other people?"
"This is my assistant, Anthea." Mycroft gestured to the lovely Anthea, who even put away her phone in M's presence.
"Hello, ma'am." She extended her hand to M, who just looked at her.
"Is she your girlfriend?" M looked at Mycroft.
"Um, no mum, she's just my assistant." Mycroft looked at his shoes.
"Hmm, disappointing." M looked Anthea up and down, and then turned to Sherlock. "And who is this young man?"
"Mother, this is my boyfriend, John Watson." Sherlock had his hands clasped behind his back to hide how much they were shaking with nerves. What if she didn't like John? Or that her son was gay?
"Hello." He extended his hand.
"Iraq or Afghanistan?" she asked.
"Iraq ma'am." He was used to this kind of thing from Sherlock, and it only made sense that his mother could read people like a book as well.
"Interesting. Well, I swear if you break my son's heart, I will send my best trained killer to assassinate you." M said this with a completely straight face.
"Um, u-understood, ma'am." John was taken aback.
"Well, with that all squared away let's…" M was cut off by a man rushing into the office.
"M. You're needed in Q's bay. Something's happened." The man seemed out of breath.
"What do you mean Carter?" M walked briskly to the man.
"I don't know. He said he got thru the code an hour ago and now the code was redirected. It's Him." Carter looked desperate and even M lost the colour in her face.
"Go. We'll follow." M turned to the company. "Looks like you'll get to see some action for once."
They all headed back to the elevator, and ended up back in Q's office. It was even more chaotic than before, people rushing and yelling and handing off papers. Q was at the head, speaking into an earpiece.
"Dammit James, keep going! No, left, LEFT. There should be a door, open, keep going." He tuned to see his family. "Sherlock, I need you."
Sherlock approached the table, as well as Mycroft. Q handed the earpiece to Mycroft.
"See that map? Ok, the red blip's our guy, guide him thru to the blue square, got it?" Q instructed quickly.
"Yes." Mycroft hooked the piece to his ear. "James? Yes, hello, Mycroft here, Q's busy. Now, I need you to turn to your right and continue down until…" Mycroft wander to get closer to the map and started to type on a computer.
"Sherlock, you know your codes, right? Ok, just help me to block out this server, because if this code makes it to our main hard-drive…" he trailed off, and stalked over to another computer.
"If it makes it thru what?" Sherlock demanded.
"Boom!" Q gestured wildly with his hands. "Just keep recoding! The main-face changes every two minutes, so just keep adjusting." He picked up a phone, while speaking with Anthea.
"Listen, Anthea. I need you to contact the lower division, tell them we have a code 11." He typed a number into the phone. "Go!"
"Q, we have a problem." Mycroft beckoned for Q. "There's no way thru."
The entire room went still. A voice came through the intercom, breathless and terrified.
"The… the door's jammed! I can't move it I… I'm so sorry I failed you." The agent was audibly scarred. There was little time before their foes caught whatever was left of the young agent.
"No!" Q slammed his hands into the table. His mind was racing with plans and puzzles, trying to figure this out. "Hit the door again, please, just give it one more try."
Every eye in the room was focused on the screen. The sound of shoulder-on-metal and the weak grunts of a desperate operative filled the unstable silence, causing echoes to chill the entire center. One second, two, several tries and no avail. There were faint gunshots, and time was as thin as wind.
The door screeched open. Whoops and celebration burst out and were quickly flattened by Q and Mycroft's commands.
"Excellent! Now, you will see a large cabinet-like structure, open it and look for…" Mycroft continued to give commands to the agent, as someone walked in.
No one noticed him come in, even though each one had seen his face. He was Bartolio Ramboni, the man they had all been hunting for years. 25 years old and handsome as a model, he made billions with organized crime, human trafficking, and scandalizing the highest families in Britain.
"So, this is how you found me." He announced as he stood behind Q.