It was ridiculous really. Two grown men in their early forties mock wrestling, tickling one another, in a battle for the remote control while their respective partners watched from across the room with equal expressions of bemusement. Q's expression was largely faked, although he watched where Bond's hands strayed a little more closely than he would have done had Bond not made his dig about Q's lack of jealousy. Sherlock, on the other hand, was equal parts confused and discomforted at his fiancé wriggling and squealing beneath another man and apparently enjoying it. Rather too much if the silly soppy grin was any indication. Bond prised the remote from John's fingers holding it out of reach as the shorter man struggled, laughing beneath the press of Bond's thigh pinning him to the sofa.

"Beg for it," Bond purred, holding John's dark blue gaze with his ice-blue and smirking.

Q glanced at his brother to find him sitting rigidly in his seat, fists clenched on his knees and jaw tight, glaring at the shadowy side of the room where the other two men giggled. He allowed himself a small smile and muttered so only Sherlock could hear. "Un-fucking-believable. Your fiancé isn't content with groping me in the shower, so now he's having a crack at James?"

Sherlock frowned at his younger sibling. "It's not John's fault! Your boyfriend has no self-control. He keeps touching him. Q, why does he keep touching him?" Sherlock's normally composed exterior was clearly rattled, his voice betraying surprising anxiety. Q felt slightly mean until he noticed Bond was still sprawled halfway across John and they were talking softly, the television war apparently forgotten. Bond pushed himself to sitting with one hand in the centre of John's chest, trailing it suggestively south until it brushed across John's groin. John grinned and sat up too, pushing to his feet eagerly and heading to the hallway to grab his jacket.

"We're going out for a pint. See you later."

"No!" Sherlock was across the room in a flash, blocking his exit, Q not too far behind him in case things got out of hand.

"No?" Queried John, shrugging into his sleeves. "I'm not spending another evening watching you and your brother stare at a bloody laptop, Sherlock. James and I are going out for some fun."

"No you're not. You're not going anywhere with him."

"What?"

"I'll come. I'll come for a pint too."

"What? You hate the pub. You moan from the minute we enter to the time we leave. Just stay at home. We won't be long ok?"

Bond was leaning casually against the wall watching the exchange with some amusement. He raised an eyebrow at Q's small frown but stepped in to wrap him in his arms and kissed him lovingly.

"Be good," Q said a little sullenly suddenly not at all sure about letting his mad plan run its course.

"Aren't I always? Can't get into too much trouble in a public bar." He leaned in to nuzzle Q's neck, whispering "With any luck this will be the push he needs and I'll finally be all yours again."

Q pushed him away. "Go!"

The two men clattered down the stairs, slamming the door behind them as they went laughing into the street. Sherlock watched them go from the window until they were out of sight, and then dropped into his chair, dressing gown flying in a swirl of anger. Q settled in John's chair, laptop balanced on his knees, and prepared for a very long couple of hours. It only took ten minutes however for Sherlock to be on his feet, pacing the room like a restless tiger. Q's fingers pecked at the keys, checking work files and avoiding the apps he knew would allow him to see where his partner was, even if he couldn't check exactly what he was up to.

"Will you please sit down Sherlock? It's very unsettling to have you stalking around when I'm trying to concentrate."

"How do you stand it?" His brother demanded, halting in front of him and scowling down at the top of Q's head.

Q pushed his glasses up his nose and regarded his older sibling calmly. "Stand what?"

"The attention he gives other people."

The younger man shrugged. "It's who he is, who I fell for. I know what he's like and I don't worry about it."

"You should." He fell into his chair once more, biting his thumb tensely. "How long have they been gone?"

"Oh for fucks sake Lockie, what is your problem? James is a flirt, always has been, always will be. He's even tried it on with you in the past, before he knew you very well, obviously. Yes, I know about that, he told me when he first found out you were my brother. We have this thing called honesty, and that's why it works. I trust him implicitly." Almost, he amended in his head, given that he seemed to get on far better with John than Q had expected, but Sherlock didn't need to know about any doubts he may have. "If anything happens, it won't be down to James."

"What are you saying? That John…?"

"You only notice John when he's paying attention to someone else and right now that someone is my partner. James just happens to be someone who responds rather obviously to flattering attention. The difference between you and I is that I make sure the only person he wants to be with is me."

Sherlock was silent for a long while, chewing on his thumb, staring vacantly into space. Q carried on working, but his mouse pointer kept drifting to the app he knew would locate his lover wherever he was in London. He wasn't strictly supposed to have it, or use it for anything other than sanctioned missions, but James was a master at getting himself into trouble, and Q liked the security of knowing he could find him if necessary. In the end he opted for a far less cloak and dagger method.

Where are you?

Red Lion. Third road on the right, heading south. Join us?

Q chuckled. Bond could always be relied upon to give precise directions; Q was actually amazed he hadn't sent a set of co-ordinates.

"Come on. We're going out."

Sherlock grumbled all the way to the pub and for the entire time it took Q to buy two pints of Coke. He was still complaining for the few minutes it took for them to locate their partners in the busy room. Sherlock glowered from John to Bond and back again, noting the careful distance between them. He catalogued John's rumpled shirt, his hair tufting on one side as though someone had pushed their fingers through it, and his slightly swollen lips and reddened skin from kissing someone who could do with a shave. He couldn't fail to notice the rather impressive love bite John was trying to hide under his upturned collar, or the matching two on Bond's neck that Q lightly ran his fingers over while they talked quietly. Q didn't look mad, but Sherlock could always tell when his little brother was worried, and this liaison between Bond and John was not making him happy at all, no matter how confident of Bond's fidelity he claimed to be.

John was watching Sherlock anxiously, no doubt expecting a scene to erupt. What he was not expecting was to be swept into his fiancé's arms and kissed to within an inch of his life, but he was not complaining at all. When they finally broke apart, Sherlock growled "Home," in his ear and dragged him from the pub, walking briskly back to Baker Street towing a very irritated John behind him like an errant child.

"Well, that seemed to work," Bond said. "Hopefully they make it home before tearing each other's clothes off."

"Hmm, yes."

"Q…?"

"I'm fine. Just got a little uncomfortable with the situation towards the end there. I… If this hasn't worked, I don't think I want to carry on with it James. It's too hard to see you with John, even if it isn't real, and… well, I don't normally waste time on feeling insecure, when it's work, but this is…"

"Shut up Q. You are the only man I want, and thank god this whole charade is over. He's a nice enough guy but I really didn't want to take things any further." He brushed his lips over his lover's in a gently reassuring kiss. "I would suggest going home, but…"

"Yes… not really sure I want to see that either. Share a bag of chips?"

"Sounds great. I'll just take these glasses back to the bar and I'm ready. See you outside?" Bond watched Q head to the door, smiling after him. He pulled his mobile from his pocket and reluctantly ensured all incriminating evidence was deleted from his phone before following. Sometimes straying beyond his brief wasn't worth the risk, but John Watson had proved an interesting diversion.

A/N: This story originally finished here, but I started work on another chapter which I may or not publish, depends how it goes.