"Bond?" Q's barely audible voice broke through the static and crackling. It hurt James's ear so bad, he almost ripped the earpiece out of his ear.

"Q? Where have you been?" James said through coughing fits as he ran out of the warehouse to escape the acrid smoke that was filling the space. He bent over and coughed more, eventually getting his breathing under control.

"I lost contact as soon as you walked into that warehouse. Whatever was in there blocked our signal." Q paused. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," James said as he coughed one last time and stood up straight.

The setting sun cast an orange glow over everything. He spotted Sherlock walking toward him on the dirt road that ran between the two warehouses.

"What happened?"

"I ran into an old colleague." James smirked as he leaned against his Mercedes and scanned the immediate area. Sensing something was wrong, he stood straight again.

"Something is missing."

"What?" Q said. Bond thought he heard the faint tap of a keyboard in his earpiece.

"Nothing. Our signal is much stronger outside of the warehouse." James watched as a dusty and exhausted looking Sherlock Holmes approached him.

"This Moran fellow is clever. He knew whatever was in that warehouse would block our signal."

"He is the second most dangerous man in London." James said as Sherlock frowned at him. "Listen, Q, do you have a signal on the GPS I planted on that SUV?"

Sherlock's eyebrows went up in surprise. 'Quartermaster?' He mouthed to James as he nodded in the affirmative.

"Yes...but there is something you should know," Q paused.

"Spit it out Q!"

"There are three heat signatures in that SUV, one of which could be curled up in the fetal position in the very back."

"Shit!"

Sherlock watched as James ran back into the warehouse and his thoughts turned to panic mode again. 'Where the hell is John? And what does Bond want with him.'

The smoke cleared out of the warehouse just enough for James to see the body of one of Moran's minions laying dead on the warehouse floor. James never bothered to count how many people he wrestled with earlier. If he had to wager a guess, it would have been three. So, was the third heat signature in that vehicle, John Watson?

"Damn!" He swore as he walked out of the warehouse. "We need to follow that SUV."

"We'll never catch up to it."

"You'll never catch up to that vehicle!"

"Jesus, I finally hear the resemblance." James remarked as Sherlock and Q spoke at the same time.

"What?"

"Nothing." James shook his head. "That's why I have you tracking them, Q. Keep your focus on them."

"James what di-" James disconnected from Q as he opened the door to his car.

"Wait!" Sherlock called as he tilted his head toward the car, as if listening to something. He ducked to look underneath the car. James frowned and started to duck when Sherlock straightened.

"There's a bomb attached to the underside of your car."

"How did-"

"Never mind," Sherlock brought the keys to the car he drove, out of his pocket and tossed them into the air. James walked by and caught them mid-air.

"There can be only one cocky bastard on this mission." James smirked and winked at Sherlock who stood motionless, a look of confusion on his face.

"Let's go!" James called as he got into Sherlock's car. "No time to ponder the possibilities."

Sherlock pursed his lips and got into the car just as James turned it over and took off.

"This is quite the disguise, Sherlock. Not sure I've seen you go to such lengths." Bond gestured to Sherlock. "You are lucky I remember your mannerisms enough. I almost shot you back there."

Sherlock ran a hand through his short blond hair. "This disguise is pointless now that Moran knows where I am."

"Yeah, and is John going to buy it?"

Sherlock threw James a piercing glare.

"I know everything about you and John, so don't worry about that. You were put back on the MI6 radar the instant Mycroft budged his fat nose into the Parkington plans-" Bond tapped his earpiece twice. "Q what have you got for me?"

"First of all thank you for cutting me off, very mature of you-"

"QUINN!" Bond yelled, then pursed his lips and took a deep breath through his nose.

"Quinn?" Sherlock closed his eyes to try to recall what that name meant to him.

"Who do you have in your passenger seat, Bond?" Quinn said in a quiet tone. Bond cocked an eyebrow as he glanced over at Sherlock.

"The colleague I talked about earlier. Jealous?"

"Why are you lying to me?"

Bond frowned. "I'm not lying to you."

"Why won't you tell me the identity of the man in your passenger seat?"

Bond heard the tick tick of the keyboard on Quinn's end.

"It's a matter of national security."

Q was silent, and that never settled well with Bond.

"Speaking of the passenger seat," he glanced over at Sherlock who had his head in his hands. "We're not exactly in my car any more. I need you to start my car."

More silence greeted the agent.

"Um, why do you need me to start your car if you aren't in it?" Q finally chimed in.

"Just do it Q, I'll explain later. I'll explain everything later."

A pause, and then, "Okay, done."

Bond looked into the rear view mirror and saw a faint glow on the horizon behind them.

"Did you just command Q to blow up your car?" Sherlock's voice took the agent by surprise and he furrowed his brow at him. He also heard Q in his ear:

"Did I just blow up the G-19?"

Bond smirked. "Yes, and yes I did."

"They are male, British, from London, about six foot, six foot one-"

"Quinn, please drop it. And for your own good, please don't research them." James Bond tapped his earpiece twice and disconnected.

"Quinn is...a step-brother." The glow of London's lights came into view as Sherlock spoke.

"Yes, I am surprised Mycroft hasn't mentioned him before."

"Mycroft has mentioned him. However that was before...before even all of this mess."

"Before MI6?"

"Yes." The word was tight in Sherlock's throat. It was not lost on James as he looked over at the man in the passenger seat for the thousandth time. The night made the normally hardened man that Bond remembered, look vulnerable, and exhausted.

"When was the last time you slept?"

"Not important." Sherlock gestured, as if waving the mans words away.

Bond gave an exasperated sigh. "That is the exact reason you were pulled from the-...that case. Your personal habits and the case requirements were not going hand in hand."

"When was the last time you slept, Mr. Bond?" Sherlock turned his piercing gaze on the driver. He knew that James couldn't see it, but he had been told once that his gaze could be felt in a pitch black room.

James was silent for a beat. "My insomnia is trained and ingrained. Yours came from a chemical concoction."

"Seven-percent."

"What?"

"It was a seven-percent solution that I used. I found that it was-"

"Sherlock I don't care if it was an eighty-percent solution! You started using. It was a disappointment...to a lot of people." He had said the last part under his breath, but he knew Sherlock had heard him.

"Yes, I was constantly reminded of that everyday. I got over it. Sentiment is a chemical defect."

Bond frowned as he heard Sherlock sigh deeply. It was a sign of three things; him shooting up, him falling asleep, and one that Bond was still unsure happened, but a sign that he was getting off. Bond was certain that sleep had finally found Sherlock Holmes.