BONDLOCK

QUILLAN'S FATHER

Author's Note:

Pairings: Q/James Bond, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Warnings: References to violence, murder, and torture

Disclaimers: Sherlock belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss, and Steve Moffat. The original characters are the property of Arthur Conan Doyle. James Bond belongs to Ian Fleming. I own nothing but the plot and make no money from this story.

'You didn't tell me that you had an uncle.'

Q sighed and looked up from his computer monitor as Eve sat down. 'Why yes, Miss Moneypenny, please come in.'

Eve chuckled. 'Don't give me that,' she said, crossing her legs. 'Seriously, I thought we were friends.'

'Seeing as how I only found out yesterday that I have family, and I haven't left my office since then, it was a bit hard to tell you.' He leaned back, stretching to work out the kinks in his back. He could feel a headache coming on from staring at his computer too long. 'How'd you find out?'

'R,' Eve said. 'And Lyle from Security was complaining about you uncle sneaking into the building.'

'He had a pass,' Q defended. Really, he found it mildly entertaining. Security really should have taken the pass back yesterday if they didn't want Sherlock Holmes sneaking into the building.

'So,' Eve said, raising an eyebrow.

Q sighed again. 'What do you want me to say?'

'Oh, I don't know,' Eve hummed, 'how about, I have an uncle.'

'And a father,' Q said, 'and grandparents.' Eve's mouth dropped open. 'Apparently a nurse ran my blood through MI6's database and found out that I have a father,' Q explained, 'a father who used to be an agent for MI6 and is currently considered the British Government.'

Eve blinked. Opened her mouth. Closed it. Blinked again. 'Wait... so when Mycroft Holmes was here...'

'It was to tell me that he's my dad,' Q shrugged, eyes drifting back to his computer.

'Holy shit,' Eve gaped.

'Wow,' Q looked back at her, 'you're taking it worse than I did.'

'I'm sorry,' Eve rolled her eyes, 'but seriously... Mycroft Holmes is your father?'

'DNA doesn't lie,' Q murmured.

'Right,' Eve nodded, 'and... how do you feel about that?'

'I honestly don't know,' Q admitted. Eve gave him a sceptical look. 'No, really, I have no idea,' Q said. 'I came to terms with the fact that I'd never have a father when I was eight. I'm twenty-one, it's not like I really need a father.'

'But it must be nice, knowing you at least have one,' Eve said. 'Knowing who it is.'

Q shrugged, but... well, Eve was right. It was nice knowing that his father hadn't abandoned him. He just hadn't known that Q existed. He didn't know why his mum had never told Mycroft. Then again, they'd both been fifteen; far too young to be parents.

He'd done some research since Sherlock's visit earlier that day. The consulting detective was seven years younger than Mycroft, making him only nine or so years older than Q. It was weird, knowing that his uncle wasn't even a decade older than him. Then again, his father was only sixteen years older than him, which was weirder.

'Are you going to see him again?' Eve's voice broke Q from his thoughts, and he shrugged again.

'I don't know,' he admitted. 'Mycroft said he'd let me decide; let me contact him. And Sherlock said the same thing, only added on that Mycroft would keep an eye on me.'

Eve snorted softly. 'Well of course he will.'

'Why "of course"?' Q questioned.

'Well... he's Mycroft Holmes,' Eve said, like that explained everything. Q just raised his eyebrows. 'He has a team that specifically keeps an eye on Sherlock Holmes and his partner, that Doctor bloke,' Eve continued. 'Their security clearance is pretty high; I know, because I read the e-mail when the previous M was informed a few years ago.'

'You were an agent a few years ago,' Q pointed out.

'And I read the email while I was waiting in her office,' Eve shrugged.

Q chuckled; of course she did.

'Anyway,' Eve cleared her throat, 'Mycroft Holmes always takes care of his family, everybody knows that, even if they barely know him. So, yes, he'll definitely be keeping an eye on you.'

'Stalk me, you mean,' Q muttered.

'We say po-tay-toe, Mycroft Holmes says po-tah-toe,' Eve said, and Q burst into a fit of giggles. Eve giggled, too, though she'd deny it even at gunpoint. The two slowly petered off into silence, each just staring at random objects around Q's office. Until Eve said, 'You shagged James in here again, didn't you?'

'Are you stalking me?' Q demanded.

'But of course,' Eve smirked. 'Not today, though. I was in M's office trying to keep him calm.'

Q frowned. 'What's got our illustrious leader in a tizzy?'

'Mycroft Holmes.'

Q rolled his eyes. That seemed to be the answer to everything in his life these days.

'Mr Holmes doesn't make many visits to MI6, as you well know,' Eve continued. 'When he does it's usually because of some international crises; he's sent here by his superiors, who are usually M's superiors.'

'I thought Mycroft was M's superior?' Q questioned.

'Oh, he is,' Eve nodded. 'Holmes doesn't have a lot of say on how Mi6 is run on a day-to-day basis, but he's part of the Defence Board, and friends with many of the other people on it. Well, I say friends, I mean business partners. So really, if Holmes wanted to change something at MI6, or give Mallory the boot, he'd get it done. So of course M's a bit freaked out over the whole visit, especially considering that you're Holmes' son.'

Q's frown deepened and he tilted his head. 'What's me being Mycroft's son have to do with anything? Why would that worry M?'

Eve blinked at him. 'Wow, sweetie, and you're always telling people that you're clever.'

Q scowled.

'Family, Q,' Eve said, 'family is the most important thing to Mycroft Holmes. Britain is a close second. What do you think that means to M? He didn't personally hire you, but he's your boss; he's the person who recommended you stay on after the old M passed. He brought you into the dangerous world of espionage, and you've already been injured once on a mission that you weren't really needed on. If you get hurt badly, or killed, because of your job, what do you think a man of Holmes' power is going to do to M?'

Q was silent at that. He knew that Mycroft was powerful; knew that he was basically over M in the chain of command, hell, over most of the politicians, including the Prime Minister. Mycroft was the person everyone went to, PM and Queen included, to get things done. He was part of the very, very shady side of the British Government. He had contacts and very few people that he actually had to answer to, and nobody doubted that soon Mycroft would overtake those men, too.

From Q's research, Mycroft would clearly do absolutely everything in his power to protect family. He'd put his good name and his job on the line to help Sherlock during that whole Moriarty thing. He'd done so again when his brother had murdered Magnussen in cold blood. If Q was hurt... well, the young genius didn't doubt that Mycroft would make anyone and everyone pay.

'Huh,' he finally spoke, his voice barely above a croak. He frowned and looked around for his mug, but it was filled with cold tea. 'That's, ah...'

'Terrifying?' Eve supplied.

'Only because nobody's cared that much about me in a long time,' Q said.

'Apart from James and myself, of course,' Eve said.

'Of course,' Q echoed.

'And most of the double-ohs,' Eve added.

Q smiled slightly. For some reason almost all of the double-ohs loved him. He was like a kid brother or son to them; every one of them, apart from 005 and 009, would kill just about anyone on the planet to keep Q safe. Q had no idea what he'd done to garner that type of loyalty, but it had happened just the same. And James... well, there was little that James wouldn't do to keep Q safe. And Eve liked asking him on a regular basis if there was anyone she had to torture for him. Thankfully, so far, Q hadn't had to answer in the affirmative.

'It's nice, isn't it?' Eve asked with a faint smile, 'having someone love you that much?'

'Yeah,' Q nodded. It was a rush, the same feeling he'd had when James had whispered those three words to him. Like he was floating, like his chest was filled with too much cigarette smoke, like he'd just eaten four chocolate bars and a pound of sugar. It wasn't bad, but it was different. 'Yeah,' Q repeated, 'it's nice.'

Eve's smile grew slightly before she stood. She reached across the desk to ruffle Q's hair, and the Quartermaster was too emotional to tell her off. He just smiled at her until she turned and left, her heels clicking on the tiled floor before fading away.

Q leaned back in his seat and ran a hand through his hair. Wow. He had a dad. For the first time since meeting Mycroft Holmes, the information was truly sinking in. There was a man out there who he could refer to as his father; someone he could have intelligent conversations with and talk about his work; someone he could spend time with on his birthday and holidays. Someone who shared the same blood as him, who would be proud of him. His mother had been all of those things, but she'd died too young; when Q was too young. He finally had that back after years of being alone.

Q's phone ringing shattered the atmosphere, and Q cleared his throat as he answered.

'I need you in my office, now,' M ordered, and Q stood immediately. 'You're needed on another mission.'

Q barely managed to keep his sigh in. His arm still hurt, the stitches still itched and pulled, but he couldn't ignore an order from a direct superior.

'I'm on my way, sir,' he said and hung up, already heading for the door.

{oOo}

The only reason that James wasn't here was that he'd been badly injured, too. He was at the other end of the room, probably strapped into his bed; James hated Medical, Q knew it- hell, all of MI6 knew it. But a bullet to the shoulder, one that required surgery to remove, meant some quality time with the nurses.

So James was no doubt unconscious, while Q was barely lucid himself. Bullet wounds would do that to you. His had only been a graze, though. It was the twenty-minute beating that he'd endured before James could rescue him that had Q hopped up on pain meds, eyes rolling around as he stared at the ceiling, the wall, the ceiling again, the horrible light green blanket over his body.

His head felt fuzzy, and there was a dull ache in his hip despite the drugs in his system. They'd taken a cricket bat to Q ten minutes in when the young man had refused to answer their questions. Thankfully they hadn't hit his head or hands; those were Q's bread and butter.

Q hummed to himself and tilted his head, feeling another rush of dizzy race through his mind. He felt like he was falling, only he knew that he was lying still in a bed, so it was weird. The large sliding door to Medical was open, a nurse having just slipped in, and Q stared at it. He wondered if a minion could be summoned into bringing him tea and biscuits, or maybe chocolate. Then again, he could probably pout and tear-up a bit and one of the nurses would bring him Earl Grey. Nurse Gilda loved him.

Q could admit that he was off his face, which was why it took at least a few minutes for his brain to register that there were very loud, very angry voices drifting into Medical from the hallway. And they were just getting louder.

'No!' the voice snapped, sounding very, very pissed off. 'Q is the Quartermaster, not a field agent! There are dozens of agents who could have done what he did- agents trained far better than him for field situations. You had no right sending the Quartermaster into that kind of danger!'

'Mr Holmes, be reasonable,' M- yes, that was M's voice- responded, sounding exasperated. 'Q is an agent of MI6, he's had training, and he knows what's expected of him. He agreed to do this kind of thing if it was needed when he was hired.'

'Yes, if it was needed!' Mycroft Holmes shouted. Wow, he sounded angry. Q wondered if this was really happening, or if the pain medication was making him loopy. It tended to do that. 'As I said, you had dozens of agents who could have broken into that network!'

'Mr Holmes, I think you're letting your... personal feelings, get in the way of your judgement,' M said rather stiffly.

There was silence.

Q didn't think that that boded well.

And, of course, three seconds later he was proven right.

'Q wasn't your last resort!' Mr Holmes exploded, making Q wince. The nurses working at the other end of the room all turned to stare fearfully at the partly-open door. 'He wasn't the only one who could have done so! Instead you chose to put the head of your security into a volatile situation! He'll be bed-ridden for weeks, unable to work! You've effectively left MI6 vulnerable to a cyber attack because you couldn't be bothered finding someone better trained!'

'Mr Holmes-'

'No, you couldn't be bothered,' Holmes interrupted, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. 'You used Q without bothering to see if anyone else was available. I know one such woman who could have done what Q did, and she wouldn't have been shot in the leg because she was an agent for six years, not a computer tech!'

Silence followed his words, and Q shifted a bit in the hospital bed. He'd been shot in the leg? Huh, he didn't remember that. He knew about the arm graze, but... well, that would explain why he'd passed out halfway through James' rescue. And the dull ache in his right thigh.

'I will be speaking to your superiors about this,' Holmes finally hissed, and Q had never heard anybody sound that... dangerous. 'And believe me, if you ever put Q into a dangerous situation without it being absolutely necessary, I won't bother going to those higher than you to express my displeasure. Do I make myself clear?'

More silence, until M let out a rather weak, 'Yes, sir.'

'Get out of my sight,' Holmes snarled, and Q heard movement, footsteps receding. The nurses in the room quickly made themselves look busy when the door was pulled all the way open. Q kept his eyes on Mycroft as the older man entered the room, his face red and eyes hard. He immediately saw that Q was awake and his features softened slightly before going blank, and he walked across the room. 'I'm sorry if you heard that,' he said, sitting in the chair beside Q's bed.

'It's fine,' Q shrugged- well, he tried to, but he thought that his arm just... jerked a bit. 'It was funny, hearing M scared.'

Mycroft chuckled slightly and leaned back, folding one leg over the other. 'Sometimes men- and women- in power tend to forget that they have to answer to other people. M is not god; there are people in charge of him.'

'People like you?' Q questioned.

A small smile tugged at Mycroft's lips. 'Though it's not an official title, I do hold some power in the Defence Cabinet. If Mallory feels like putting you in danger for absolutely no reason, than he shall understand the consequences.'

'I went into this of my own free will, you know,' Q felt the need to chime in. While he didn't particularly like M, he didn't hate him, either. The man was good at his job and always did what was best for MI6.

Mycroft's eyes hardened. 'There was no need to send you on that mission,' he stated. 'If you were the only option, then I would understand. However, like you no doubt heard me shouting, there are a fair few agents who are computer savvy. My personal assistant could have done what you did.'

'And not gotten shot,' Q hummed. 'Wait,' he blinked, 'your assistant was an agent?'

'For MI6, yes,' Mycroft nodded. 'She had been for about two years when I officially retired from all active service. I offered her a better position and she took it.'

'Huh,' was all Q said. His head felt fuzzy. And he still wasn't sure if this was real.

'Are you okay?' Mycroft asked, head tilted. Q blinked at him. 'You seem a bit... off.'

'Painkillers,' Q murmured, gesturing vaguely at the bags hanging beside him. 'Make me funny.'

Mycroft smiled slightly at that. 'It seems we have that in common. Whenever I'm injured and given high-dose painkillers, my partner has to spend the night with me to avoid me starting World War III.'

Q giggled. He couldn't help it, it was funny. He was just imagining Mycroft sitting in his bedroom in silk pyjamas- 'cause why not?- tapping out slurs on his phone that would lead to a World War.

'Partner,' he hummed, letting his head fall back, eyes on the ceiling.

'Yes,' Mycroft said, though Q hadn't expected an answer. 'Gregory Lestrade. He's a DI with Scotland Yard.'

Q blinked at the ceiling. Huh. 'So you're-'

'Gay,' Mycroft interrupted.

'Yet here I am,' Q mused, eyes rolling back to Mycroft.

Mycroft clearly hesitated before saying, 'When I was younger, I wanted to be like everybody else. I was already different, and... well, things happened. I made a choice and I don't regret it.'

''Cause I'm alive?' Q asked.

'Because I realised that I was definitely gay,' Mycroft corrected. Q giggled. 'But I don't regret finding out about you,' Mycroft continued. 'Even though we haven't really spoken since we first met, I am glad that I found out.'

'Me too,' Q admitted, surprising even himself with the words. 'I mean, it's still confusing, and odd, but... I haven't had anyone care about me for a long time.'

'MI6 cares,' Mycroft ventured.

'MI6 cares about their Quartermaster,' Q muttered. 'Which is fine, you know; all part of the job. But you...' he sighed and looked at Mycroft, who was watching him silently. 'You care about me 'cause I'm me. 'Cause I'm Quillan Turner. Not because I'm Q.'

'I think that being Q is very important to you,' Mycroft said.

'But it's not all there is to me,' Q said. 'It's just nice, having people care about Quillan and not just Q.'

Mycroft nodded. 'Yes, I found it rather nice when someone cared about me and not the British Government.'

'Gregory?' Q guessed.

'And Sherlock, when he isn't being a brat,' Mycroft said, a smile on his lips. Q grinned in response. 'How long have you been dating 007?' Mycroft asked, completely changing the topic, and, wow. Telling your dad about your boyfriend; not something Q had ever thought he'd have to do.

'Uh... five... six months?' Q guessed. 'Somewhere around that.'

'I see.'

'Not gonna yell?' Q asked.

Mycroft chuckled. 'I hardly have any right to tell you whom you can and cannot date.'

'He has a reputation, but he cares about me,' Q said, even though he knew that he didn't have to explain anything. 'He cares about Quillan.'

'That's good to know,' Mycroft replied.

'You should meet him sometime,' Q continued, making Mycroft raise an eyebrow- I definitely got that from him, Q mused. 'I mean, you should meet James, not 007.'

Mycroft stared at him for a few seconds before realisation hit. And then, he smiled. Q did, too. Because while he still wasn't sure exactly how he felt about this situation, or what he wanted from Mycroft, Q knew that he wanted... something. He wanted to get to know the man, maybe form some type of relationship. Mycroft clearly cared- he'd proven that a few minutes ago- and Q... well, he really, really liked that.

'I suppose that if I meet James, you should meet Gregory,' Mycroft said. 'He has a daughter, maybe he can help with this situation.'

'Oh, so he didn't know she existed until a week ago?' Q muttered.

Mycroft laughed, a warm smile spreading across his face. Q wondered if he did that often, in private. 'No, I suppose he can't help me with that part. But he's a father.'

'Just buy me awesome birthday presents and I'll love you forever,' Q slurred. Okay, the painkillers were kicking in again, 'cause his leg was no longer aching and ooh, the sheets felt nice.

'I'll see what I can do,' Mycroft said in amusement. 'Why don't you rest? I'll come visit later.'

'M'kay,' Q murmured, eyes already shut. 'Night, Papa.'

Mycroft's laugh was the last thing Q heard before he fell asleep.

{End}

Author's Note: AWWWWWWWWWWWWW! Sorry, couldn't help it :p So, yup, another one. Can't stop myself. I need help. Send an ambulance. Though I don't think any doctor can help with "I can't write one-shots, stop my muse, he be crazy!" Oh, well, I'll just half to suffer.

I'll stop rambling now. Cheers,

{IBegToDreamAndDiffer}