Sherlock: Resurrection

By: Shadow Chaser

Author's Notes:

Companion piece to "Skyfall" this continues to explore the crossover of the most recent James Bond movie "Skyfall" and BBC's "Sherlock." Sherlock and all characters do not belong to me, they belong to BBC, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. James Bond and all characters do not belong to me, they belong to the Broccoli family, MGM, and Ian Fleming. I am only writing this for fan purposes and not for profit.

Story:

The decryption key was only that, a key until one used it to unlock the secrets it was supposed to find. The only sound in the labs was the clicking of his keyboard, his minions gone for the day while he still lingered. Granted, working for MI6 was not a 9-to-5 job, but there was a semblance of it to at least appease the herd-like mindset of his flock of minions. His eyes, a brighter blue due to the glow of the monitor in front of him flickered back and forth, reading, filing, and collating the information of the decryption program he had personally written to break into the files that would finally, finally destroy what was left of Moriarty's criminal network.

Serbia was the last of the strongholds and he was pleased that the two year crusade was finally coming to a close. M had been grumbling for the last six months about resources used to finance and fund the two year crusade, but he had been overruled by Mycroft himself. Even though MI6 was still functioning on other missions, like 007 himself being somewhere in Russia dealing with the recent spate of terrorist attacks, most of the organization's networks had been devoted to the two-year crusade.

"Your minions have left and yet you still linger," Q's lips curled up in an involuntary smile at his quiet voice spoken from the doorway to the lab.

"Someone has to clean up the mess," he shot back, not looking back, and instead continued to type.

"Ah, well, it was quite messy at the end," Sherlock sniffed a little and Q shook his head.

"And...?"

"I suppose 'thank you' would suffice?" his older brother, the middle of the Holmes children, stepped into the lab, making his way over to where he stood.

"Hardly," Q let his grin become a little more on edge, a little annoyed at how blasé his brother was being about his captivity and torture, "especially the way you so flippantly say it."

There was a moment of silence and he thought his brother had left, perhaps still a bit perplexed after Mycroft had explained the situation with John Watson for the last two years, but then the shadow of a great dark blue-black woolen coat and blue scarf crossed his vision, blocking his sight from the monitor and he paused in his typing.

"Sherlock-"

"Thank you," he looked up, a little surprised to see such a sincere expression on his face, "for sending Mycroft, even though he detests doing the legwork."

Q softened the edge of his smile and nodded once, "I'm sorry that I didn't get to forewarn you about the extra security after you inserted the decryption key."

"I know," his brother's expression became unreadable and Q knew that it was one of the few times that his brother employed it. The two of them had been close and had been able to easily read each other due to their mutual dislike of Mycroft lording over them from time to time.

"Truce?" he asked, knowing that Sherlock was more than likely a little angry at him for not giving him the proper intelligence even though that was what he did, but also thankful that he had the foresight into goading Mycroft to go instead of sending one of the double-o's.

"Hardly," his brother's closed expression broke with a scoffing grin and Q shook his head before resuming his typing. Sherlock stepped out of the way and seemed to stare at the same projection monitor he was staring at before he spun on his heel. "You should get out, you know."

"MI6 affords me the protection from Mycroft's constant vigilance, you know that-"

"I mean, breathe in the fresh air, feel London's heartbeat-"

"I'd rather not breathe in the smog and dreary air," he was about to continue to list London's air quality and faults when he realized that Sherlock looked a little nervous, even though his expression said otherwise. The fact that his brother was nervous in setting foot outside of MI6's headquarters and into London proper made him all the more curious until he realized that Sherlock had made his decision to go back to living as a consulting detective. He knew his job was done in terms of dismantling Moriarty's network; it was all up to Q and his minions now to finish digitally what could not be done physically.

"Mycroft showed you John's latest, picture, didn't he?"

"He...looks old, exhausted-"

"He has Mary-"

"-She doesn't count. He looks...worn..." his brother fiddled with the wires of a mouse from a nearby station.

Q fell silent for a few seconds before coming to his decision. He rolled his neck and stretched, halting the decryption program before locking his workstation. "Come on then. I need a break anyways..."

The words were barely out of his mouth when he felt himself being shoved into his peacoat and absently buttoned it up as Sherlock shoved his page-boy hat onto his head and thrust his leather gloves into his hands just as he barely knotted the front of his jacket. It was a military-style jacket, a gift from 007 even though the agent claimed otherwise after the whole Silva incident. The agent had muttered something about spotted beasts being so stick thin and catching colds in the London winters, but Q had accepted it nonetheless. The fact that he had belatedly realized his brother wanted him to accompany him outside made him a bit irritated.

"Sherlock-"

"Let's go!" his brother's enthusiasm returned as he felt himself unceremoniously dragged from the labs and towards the exit.

"No, wait, got a better place," he tugged on his hand gripped tightly in his brother's spindly fingers and saw Sherlock stare at him, puzzled.

"What-"

"If I find the two of you fighting in the halls of MI6 itself, there will be hell to pay," Mycroft's imperious voice made the two of them turn to see him stepping out of the passageway door that connected MI6 to a host of important areas, one of which was Mycroft's Diogenes Club. Behind him was 'Anthea', or at least whatever his personal assistant called herself these days. Q knew her by another name.

"Shove off Mycroft," he rolled his eyes and ignored his older brother as he dragged Sherlock towards a secondary stairwell. Passing by the two, he nodded a greeting towards the woman, "002."

"Q," she replied back with a full smile, "anything new?"

"You're just as bad as Bond," he shook his head as he opened the door to the stairwell, "we'll see...no exploding pens though!" The door shut behind them and he and Sherlock trudged up the steps.

"I knew she was a double-o," Sherlock's voice was gleeful and Q sighed.

"Antagonizing her isn't going to work, Sherlock. Trust me, I've tried when I found out," he shrugged, "but that's not going to stop you, right?"

His brother chuckled behind him and Q resigned himself to at least maybe several months of annoyed texts from his brother in the near future. 002 was the only agent who was assigned as Mycroft's personal bodyguard after he had risen through the ranks of the government to his 'minor' position. 002's were also considered to be personal assistants and the most visible of all the double-o's – though hardly anyone knew that. The reasoning was two folded and it was only approved by M and himself – one, M wanted someone to keep and eye on Mycroft due to his influence over MI6. The other reason was that some of those who held the title of M thought they could at least figure out what made Mycroft so brillant and used 002 to do so. The truth was far from that – each 002 was more loyal to Mycroft than to MI6 – Mycroft himself had seen to that. Still...it was knowledge that only he knew and it was because he had observed it in 002's body language.

A few more flights and they neared the top, "Almost there, ready to breathe in London?"

"What do you think?"

"No jumping off of rooftops now," he shot a quick grin to his brother who returned one of his own as he opened the door and was flooded with the bright sunlit sky of London.

The view was impressive in of itself and it was something that Q had only discovered when Moneypenny had told him that Bond was up on the roof during the reading of the previous M's will. He had found himself standing by the door to the stairs, watching Bond cut a striking profile against the the backdrop of Parliament itself and the Thames.

He now stood near the doorway once more as Sherlock took a few steps forward, his expression hard to read as he breathed deeply and closed his eyes. Q allowed himself a small indulgent smile at how content his brother looked after two harrowing years of nonstop missions. London was where he truly belonged and the city had missed him. The resurrection of Sherlock Holmes was almost complete, he realized, all that was missing was his Dr. John Watson.

~END~

Author's Notes:

I was inspired by the scene where Sherlock is standing on the rooftop, "breathing" in London during Season 3, Episode 1. I also realized that its the same exact rooftop that they used for the ending of "Skyfall" and decided to write something about it.