I found this hiding in my documents folder and thought I'd upload it! Andrew Scott was amazing in Spectre!
'You're a kite dancing in a hurricane, Mr. Bond.' ~ Mr. White from the movie "Spectre"
The air became heavy and James felt as if he was walking on the bottom of the ocean. Everything was in slow motion and he couldn't move fast enough to stop Moran.
But when he heard the voice, everything sped up again.
"Wait!" A dark-haired young man cried as he ran through the doorway of the flat.
"Quinn?" James said under his breath.
"Sherlock?" Moran took a double-take at the young man. "No, you're too young to be Sherlock."
"How do you know?" Quinn still had his hands up. "Have you ever seen me close up? Or just through your scope?"
Moran squinted his eyes at Quinn. James furrowed his brow. If this was Sherlock's idea of getting them out of a tight spot, he didn't like it.
"It doesn't matter," Moran gestured at Quinn and Bond. "You two are stalling. Kill John, lets get this over with."
"Wait! NO!" Both Q and James cried out.
"I have the code you need," Quinn started to take off his jacket when everyone turned their guns on him. James stepped toward the young man, but Bryant turned his gun on him. James clenched his jaw and it took all his self-control not to beat the man to a pulp. Quinn swallowed audibly and rolled up his sleeves. On the pale flesh of each arm were tattooed a distinct pattern of numbers. James always thought they were some weird thing the kids were doing these days.
Moran stepped up to the young man and grabbed his arm so hard Quinn grunted and winced. Moran looked up into the young man's face. It was true, he had only seen Sherlock through the scope of his gun, but he was pretty sure Sherlock was taller and skinnier, although not by much.
"Who are you?" Moran squinted at him. "You have the right code, but...something's not right."
"Sherlock Holmes," Quinn's voice quivered and Moran pointed his gun at his forehead. James flinched.
"Sherlock Holmes. I am Sherlock Holmes."
"I don't believe you. Shall we try again, eh?"
Quinn drew in a shaky breath.
"ANSWER ME!" Moran pressed the gun harder into the other's forehead. Mrs. Hudson jumped and mewled into Simon's hand.
"I am Quinn Holmes. Sherrinford Quinn Holmes."
"Well, lookie here boys!" Moran took the gun away and made a parody of himself. "We have another Holmes brother on our hands. Moriarty would be entertained about this!" Moran barked a laugh. He ran a finger along the numbers on the others right arm. He licked his thumb and rubbed on one of the numbers, hard.
His eyes traveled up to Quinns face as he protested.
"Men, we have the code." He grabbed Quinn as he struggled. Pointing the gun at the others head, he turned them both to face Bond. "Don't even think about following us! Bryant grab John, and Simon-" he gestured at Mrs. Hudson. "-do something about that."
James pursed his lips as he watched Bryant grab John Watson from the couch. He took a step toward John, when Simon whacked the poor old lady across the head and she fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Moran shot a new hole into the smiley face on the wall as the bullet whizzed by James's ear.
John grunted as soon as the gun went off and he blinked and looked around. The pain spread throughout his body and he groaned, loud. Moran backed up and stood beside Bryant. He looped his arm around Quinn's neck and patted Johns face.
"Now, this oughta bring Sherlock back from the dead!" He barked a laugh and turned his focus back to Quinn, pointing his gun at his temple. "In the meantime, I'll keep this one occupied just for you, Bond!"
He gestured with his head for the other two to leave and he followed, but paused in the doorway of the flat.
"Thank you for leading us to the treasure!" His face broke out in a cruel grin as he dragged Quinn out of the doorway and down the stairs.
As soon as James heard the front door shut, he rushed to Mrs. Hudson's side, felt her pulse, and ran down the stairs and out into the street.
Headlights zoomed up behind him as he whipped around gun in hand.
"Get in the bloody car, Bond!" Sherlock's voice carried over the street.
"Jesus Sherlock," James' exasperation showed as he stepped in the car. Sherlock glanced at him as he took off in the same direction as Moran. "Not only is John's life in danger, but now our only eye in the sky is gone."
"Did you know the numbers on Quinn's arm are a Fibonacci sequence?" Sherlock's calm voice caught James off guard for a moment as he paused. "I have a sequence on the back of my thigh and Mycroft has his running along the length of his spine."
"Sherlock, I don't know what the hell you're talking about, or what you've got planned," James checked his gun. Two bullets left. He dug in the glove compartment as he went on. "but I don't like that Moran has my Quartermaster."
"Oh, he's your property now?"
"Dammit Sherlock!" Bond drew in a deep breath through his nose. "Why the hell did you just give them our best asset?"
"James Bond, I suggest you calm down and focus on the reason you were sent for one John Watson," Mycroft's voice filled the car.
James furrowed his brow as he paused in loading an extra clip. "Mycroft?"
"Yes, if we work together, we can get our people back."
"What about M? Does she know?"
"She is aware and doing things on her end to get Q back."
"What they don't have is the chip," Sherlock brought the chip from his pocket. "They also don't know the order of the numbers."
"Good, you sent him in there to die." James shook his head as he tried not to let his frustration get the better of him.
"Bond, I need you to calm down," Sherlock shifted as he placed the chip back in his pocket. He pushed the stage glasses to the top of his head and rubbed his face and eyes. "I do have a plan."
James narrowed his eyes at the other.
"Do you not care in the least that they also have John?"
Sherlock's mind flashed back to an argument him and John had:
'There are lives at stake, Sherlock! Actual human lives. Jus...Just so I know, do you care about them at all?'
'Will caring about them help save them?'
'Nope.'
'Then I'll continue not to make that mistake.'
'And you find that easy, do you?'
"Yes, very much," the detective gave the agent a look that would have sent a lesser man running. "What bothers me more is the way you have gone after John; like a wolf stalks its prey. What else are you after John Watson for?"
James quirked an eyebrow, intrigued at the question. John wasn't really his type, but if he had had his way in Afghanistan...
"If you think my pursuit of John Watson is anything other than professional, you are sadly mistaken. We have the same intentions. To save a friend and destroy Moriarty and his network." James sighed as his phone rang.
"Just what in the bloody hell do you think you are doing, Bond? And where is my quartermaster?"
Sherlock glanced over at Bond as he maneuvered a corner. He could hear M's voice through James' phone.
"You're the one that sent me on this wild goose chase," M was doing nothing for his patience as he gripped the bridge of his nose. "And our Quartermaster is leading us to the heart of this operation."
"Bond...do be careful. But please get Q back and tell brothers Mycroft and Sherlock I said hello to them. The agency does miss them and Agent C."
"Sentiment, sir? It doesn't suit you."
Sherlock furrowed his brow and looked over at James.
"It's never done anyone any good."
"Sir?"
M had already hung up, leaving James staring at a black phone.
"Glad to hear M is still his impossible self." Mycroft's voice flooded the car again. "However, he might have left us a clue. I'll get back to you."
"Wait what kind of clue?"
It was Mycroft's turn to hang up on Sherlock.
"Sherlock?"
"Hm...What?"
"Where's the SUV?" James gestured ahead of them when he didn't see the SUV.
"I have a GPS planted on Q. I locked it into both of our phones – which mine should be done charging-" he unplugged his phone and found it at 97%. "Close enough. Put yours on; this is a quick charge so yours should only take ten minutes."
"Sherlock, they've stopped moving," James said, looking at the map on the phone. "Up here, next street, turn left then right then all the way down..."
As soon as Sherlock took the second turn, both men saw the SUV at the end of the street, turned over on its side, smoke or steam rolling from the front and Sherlock slowed down.
"Wait," James said as Sherlock stepped on the gas. "It might be a trap."
"I'm willing to take the risk."
The agent furrowed his brow at the detective whose eyes were locked on the SUV.
"You're a bit crazier than I remember you." James smirked as he reloaded Sherlock's gun.
Sherlock parked a few meters away from the overturned SUV and they stepped out of the car and looked around. Not seeing or hearing anything, James signaled for Sherlock to cover him as he stalked toward the vehicle. He grudgingly agreed as his eyes darted over the area.
James walked up on the rear of the vehicle first. The door was opened as he squatted and pointed his gun. No one. He did a quick search and with a second glance, noticed a small piece of paper. On it were the letters A.G.R.A. James pocketed the paper, signaled to Sherlock the rear was clear, and moved toward the front.
Sherlock heard the sounds of London waking up from its slumber. He glanced over the area and looked at his watch. Four in the morning.
'I owe you.'
A small breeze made the hairs on the back of his neck rise, as Sherlock looked around for a source for the voice.
Groaning he pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Sleep soon." He told himself.
"Nobody but Bryant in the vehicle," James said as he approached Sherlock and brought the piece of paper from his pocket. "There was this, though. Do those letters mean anything to you?"
Sherlock blinked at the paper as a shiver ran down his back.
"Yes, and I may have an idea where they are going," he said as he got in the car. "Dial Mycroft."
"Yes," Mycroft's voice filled the car again as Sherlock turned it around.
"I need you to access the AGRA file, I need to know the location of Diachenko's weapons cache."
"Would you mind letting me in on what's going on?" James said as he glanced in the side mirror. A car was following them, keeping its distance. "Also, we are being followed."
Sherlock swore as his eyes darted to the rear-view mirror. The car was several car lengths behind them, not close enough to be suspicious, but enough to follow if Sherlock took drastic measures, which he did. Jerking the car to the right, he turned into an alley way.
"Still following,"
"Damn," he swore under his breath as he sped up and took the next left out of the alley, narrowly missing a delivery truck.
"If you take the next right then over the bridge and a left, you will be at the Diogenes Club." Mycroft's voice filled the car again as Sherlock maneuvered the car around a pedestrian. "Park in front. I have a plan and another car waiting for you."
Sherlock and James watched in silence as an identical car pulled out ahead of them. The car that was following them, passed by moments later. The sky turned a chrome gray as the sun rose and the two men sat, waiting for a signal from Mycroft.
"Go now, silver car at your 5 o'clock."
As soon as they heard his voice, James and Sherlock quickly and quietly jumped out of their car and into the new car, a Jaguar; this time, with James driving.
They drove into the heart of the city, past MI6 to the building that once housed Magnussen's offices and condo. Sherlock furrowed his brow as they drove around the side and parked the car.
"Part of the building is under construction," he said.
"Yes, a securities analyst bought the building and is taking over," Mycroft's voice flooded the Jaguar. "Bond, you should take note, this man has a lot of interest in the MI6 program, and not in a good way."
James and Sherlock looked at each other with eyebrows raised.
"Looks like I have some research to do when this is all said and done."
"Quite," Sherlock said as he opened his door and stepped out of the car. Each of their phones pinged as they stepped up to each other.
"Mycroft is as handy as Q," James smirked. "Not quite as cute, however."
"Those are my brother's you are talking about," Sherlock ran a hand through his dyed blond hair and adjusted his glasses. "Let's go find John and Quinn."
Johns head was spinning and his body felt like it had been used as a punching bag. As he opened his eyes, blurry images formed and he blinked to focus. He heard people talking somewhere else, but a voice coming from in front of him, startled him.
"John! John," Quinn tried to coax John awake. He was handcuffed and his legs were tied to a chair and he was facing John who was in the same predicament.
"Sherl-" John's vision kept swimming as he winced, but he could have sworn it was Sherlock sitting in front of him. "Sherlock?"
"No, I'm Quinn, Sherlock's little brother. But that's a long story. John you have to wake up!"
"Quinn...little brother..." John grunted and tried to move his arms but found they were handcuffed behind his back. "Where are...we?"
"Some big glass building near downtown. It has a giant CM on the front," Quinn licked his lips as his frustration mounted. "I would have thought this building would be the first to be demolished after Magnussen was killed."
"Magnussen?" John's vision finally focused as he laid eyes on the man sitting across from him. He was handsome and curly haired and pale like Sherlock, but he had coffee colored eyes and glasses. "You are...Sherlock and Mycroft's little...brother?"
"Focus John," Quinn sighed. "There are people in the next room that want to tear the skin off my arms and are holding you hostage, hoping Sherlock will come out of hiding. We need to focus on getting out of here somehow."
"Sherlock? Out of hiding?" John cocked his head. "Sherlock is dead."
Quinn raised his brows and opened his mouth to say something when a gun shot went off in the next room.
"Jesus," Quinn started to hop with his chair to a nearby desk, hoping for a paper clip or a letter opener, maybe a knife.
"It seems you've been brainwashed my friend," he said as he swept the desk top with his eyes for anything to open the handcuffs.
In the meantime, John wiggled his legs and found his legs weren't tied to his chair. His hands were, however, handcuffed and tied. He stood, slowly getting his balance and walked over to the desk Quinn was rifling though with his nose. John hid a smirk at the comical scene in front of him. He turned slightly and managed to open the desk drawer.
"Bob's your uncle! Paperclips!" Quinn exclaimed in a loud whisper.
"'Bob's your...do people still say that?" John chuckled. Quinn was clearly the more sociable of the brothers, although not by much.
He managed to grasp a paper clip in his mouth and somehow drop it in John's hand before speaking.
"It was the first thing-"
The door at the end of the cubicle farm opened and they froze for a moment. Realizing the person had their back to them, they went back to their former positions.
"Please make sure he's wrapped up carefully. I don't want blood stains in my new building."
The voice made the hair on John's neck rise and he almost dropped the paper clip. He drew in a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.
"John Watson and Quinn Holmes,"
John had to take a double-take at the man now standing to his right. He opened his mouth to say something, struggling to find the right words.
"Mo-...Moriarty..."