I don't own Sherlock, or the MCU, or James Bond... I must also point out that the flashbacks shown in License to Kill, about John's past as MI6 is valid for this one too (for any story which mentions him having been an Intelligence Officer, really), just so we're clear.

You don't need to have watched anything from Marvel, I don't think... so having at least an idea of what Avengers is about... and perhaps the basics of Agents of SHIELD would help make everything much clearer. I'm quite willing to answer questions, if you have any.

As always, my thanks to Ariana DeVere for her transcripts.

I have no Beta and am certainly not British (Mexican, actually), so apologies for any mistakes.

P.S. Times get a bit wonky on this one, if you haven't watched the Avengers movie, or don't pay much attention to such things you won't even notice; but in case you do... I'm sorry but it was necessary for things to fit the way I wanted... it's really not that much of a problem, I don't think.

True Heroes

"Heroes don't exist, and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them." SH

Phil blinked repeatedly in an attempt to clear his sleep-addled mind. He'd been dreaming about his time in Tahiti, again... dreams that for some reason unsettled him more than they comforted him. Tahiti may have been a magical place, but still not one of his liking. Not like he could tell the boss that... he knew that not every agent got the chance to spend months relaxing, whether they'd almost gotten killed or not. He was fortunate, and he knew that.

Right as the man, Philip James Coulson, Senior S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent and, as far as most of the world was concerned, fallen since shortly before the Battle of New York back in May; was beginning to wonder why exactly he was even awake when it was so late (or early, depending on one's point of view), he heard his phone ringing. That was all that was needed for his senses to be in full-alert; a necessity with his job, one never knew when duty might call...

"Agent Coulson speaking..." He said seriously, pressing the phone to his ear.

"Phil...?" He never expected the voice on the other side.

"John...?" Phil called, sitting up in bed, confused. "John, are you alright?"

John was an old friend, they'd met a number of times through the years. At first it'd been for things related to SHIELD, as John had been inadvertently involved, but eventually they became friends. Phil had regretted more than once John's refusal to work with SHIELD full time but knew the other man had a good thing going in the UK, friends and family he didn't want to leave... then what had happened? What could possibly make him phone Phil in the middle of the night (well, it most likely wasn't night for him, but still)?

"No Phil, I'm not alright." John admitted quietly, his tone sounded so wrong, almost defeated. "I... I need your help Phil."

xXx

The tension in the conference room where the highest ranking members of Parliament had gathered to discuss the future of Sherlock Holmes, who was up for a murder charge, having shot Charles Augustus Magnussen on Christmas Eve, less than two weeks before, was high. There were some who had also suggested his actions might be considered treason, what with Mr. Magnussen being such an 'upstanding' and important citizen... of course those were people who either did not know the man was a narcissistic sociopathic bastard with delusions of grandeur and a penchant for blackmailing everyone, using people like puppets; or perhaps they were individuals who'd benefitted from Magnussen's actions.

In any case, that wasn't Mycroft Holmes's focus for the time being. No, all his focus was on doing something that might eventually result in his little brother being saved. He knew it wouldn't be simple, Sherlock couldn't simply go back to his life, not after what he'd done. And he'd never be able to survive going to prison. So Mycroft had to find another solution...

"As my colleague is fond of remarking, this country sometimes needs a blunt instrument." The eldest Holmes recited his prepared speech without any inflection. "Equally, it sometimes needs a dagger, a scalpel wielded with precision and without remorse." He looked discretely at the others in the room. "There will always come a time when we need Sherlock Holmes."

The men sitting at the table just looked back at him in silence; though there was one who approached him, Sir Edwin, and spoke.

"If this is some expression of familial sentiment..." He began in a low tone.

"Don't be absurd." Mycroft scoffed. "I am not given to outbursts of brotherly compassion. You know what happened to the other one."

Sir Edwin looked away, grimacing, though he didn't say a thing.

"In any event, there is no prison in which we could incarcerate Sherlock without causing a riot on a daily basis." The Holmes politician reminded everyone. "The alternative, however..." he turned to look at Lady Smallwood. "would require your approval."

Mycroft knew Elisabeth Smallwood was the only person on his side in the matter of Sherlock Holmes. She'd been the one to enlist the consulting detective's services in an attempt to stop Magnussen, after all. And while Sherlock had been unable to do it in time to save her husband, Lady Elisabeth did not hold it against him, she knew Sherlock had done all he could. The lady would probably be willing to do more than what Mycroft was asking of her, though they both knew it would be for naught; for the same reason she probably would have a hard time going with his plan, considering the risk too great... and it was, sending Sherlock Holmes on what pretty much labeled a suicide mission to Eastern Europe wasn't something to be done lightly; but Mycroft honestly believe that it was the lesser of two evils (and if all went to plan he would find a way to get his brother back before the six-month life-expectancy ended).

"Hardly merciful, Mr Holmes." Lady Smallwood said simply.

"Regrettably, Lady Smallwood, my brother is a murderer." Mycroft said stoically.

"And yet what you're planning could end up being such a waste." A new voice said.

Everyone in the room turned immediately to look at the woman standing at the door. She was tall, slim, with shoulder-length straight black hair and blue-grey eyes, dressed in a top, zipped-up jacket, form-fitting slacks and boots, all in black; also, her shoulder bore the symbol of a well-known international agency:

"I am Maria Hill, Deputy Director of S.H.I.E.L.D." The woman announced seriously. "I am here with an offer from the Director, Nick Fury. We wish for Sherlock Holmes to work for us."

No one was expecting that, especially not Mycroft.

"You already appear amenable to the plan of having him serve rather than rot in prison, which we all know would be a waste of Mr. Holmes considerable talents." Hill pushed forward. "Something that could still end up happening if you were to send him on a suicide mission to Eastern Europe. Your country, and the world as a whole, would benefit much more from Sherlock Holmes working for S.H.I.E.L.D., instead of possibly dying in an obscure country in the East. Wouldn't you agree Lord Holmes?"

"Of course ma'am." Mycroft's response was blank and mostly automatic.

Meanwhile as he kept trying to deduce how exactly S.H.I.E.L.D. had ended up involved in that meeting. How had they even known they would be discussing Sherlock's fate that morning? He was missing something, and did not know what... the genius didn't like that.

In the end Lady Smallwood (and from her the rest of Parliament) was much more amenable to Deputy Director Hill's plan than Mycroft's. On the proviso that, were the UK to ever truly need Sherlock Holmes, he would return. All the paperwork was signed several hours later and final arrangements were made. Sherlock would have three days to settle his affairs before he would be expected to be in a private airstrip in the outskirts of London.

xXx

Sherlock nearly had a temper tantrum on Saturday morning when Mycroft finally told him he'd been unable to find John. Apparently he and Mary had filed for an annulment but a week after the Magnussen debacle, citing adultery on Mary's part, the evidence being a paternity test revealing that John wasn't the baby's father. The process had actually been aided by Mycroft, who believed that John being single again would be of more aid to his brother (this had happened the day before the meeting, back when Mycroft was still working on a plan to have his brother be free, eventually). He wasn't expecting for John to practically disappear two days later. All he'd been able to find out was that the doctor had gotten on a plane to New York at some point on Thursday. Mrs. Hudson thought it might be his cousin, the one John had gone to the States to take care of back in May (the reason why he and Mary had had to postpone the wedding and ended getting married the first days of August, rather than in mid-May as they'd originally planned). Yet Mycroft couldn't find anything, there was no contact information, nothing at all.

And so Sherlock was forced to leave London, leave his home (possibly even for good this time) without even getting the chance to say goodbye to his best-friend this time. He wasn't sure which one was worse, a fake-suicide where he'd made John watch, or just leaving without a trace. Would John return at some point and curse not having known Sherlock was leaving? Or maybe he'd gone first because he'd simply given up on Sherlock already? The possible answers to those questions were more than the consulting detective could take.

And yet, nothing could have prepared Sherlock Holmes (former) consulting detective for what was waiting for him on the helicarrier that served as Nick Fury's flying fortress. He'd left London in a S.H.I.E.L.D. quinjet, landing on the helicarrier which, for the time being was actually down, on the North Atlantic. The two agents who'd piloted the quinjet took him on a short, very basic tour of the base before leading him to the area that served as barracks.

"You will be assigned an actual apartment in whatever city you get stationed in." The Agent said. "From what I've heard of the interest Director Fury and Deputy Director Hill have shown in you it will probably be Washington D.C., and you will be working at the Triskellion. That might change of course, we'll see. For the time being you'll be staying in this suite, your roommate should be inside already."

Sherlock could barely hold a snippy retort at the mere thought of having to share a living space. The chances of the other person being able to stand him longer than a couple of hours (if that) were practically nil... and then the door was opened and he actually saw who was inside. The shock was so great he wasn't fully aware as the agent passed him the card that would work as key for his temporary living quarters, or when she left; all his attention was on the figure sitting on one of the rather small bunk beds practically embedded into the wall.

"Hey Sherlock..." It was John.

"John?!" Sherlock was beyond shocked. "But how...?"

"Remember my American cousin, Phil?" The former army captain asked calmly.

"The one who got badly hurt in that mess in New York months ago." Sherlock nodded. "You had to fly over to take care of him because you're his closest family. Even had to postpone the wedding six weeks." He made a pause before adding. "Mary didn't like that."

"Yeah..." John winced at the memory. "Anyway, while Phil is definitely real, he's not my cousin. He's a friend, a very good friend, met him during my time in the army. He was on a mission with his S.H.I.E.L.D. team, me and my team happened to be in the area at the same time and we ended working together..." He shrugged. "It actually happened several times through the years. It is true that he was very badly hurt that day, before the battle actually began. In fact, most of the people who once knew him still believe him dead for some reason I don't fully understand..." He shook his head. "Anyway, Fury called me. Apparently I'm one of the few doctors he trusts with his people. That's why I had to fly over to New York. I couldn't tell anyone, which was why I used that story about a cousin with no family..."

Sherlock nodded. If everyone understood telling lies to do their job and especially to protect people it was him. And it wasn't like the lie had hurt anyone. The only one affected at all was Mary, and apparently that one was a lost case already. Besides, while he technically didn't dislike Mary, the (former) detective would admit (at least to himself) that he liked being able to have his dear friend to himself again (maybe too much).

"Ask." John waved his hand at him. "I know you want to."

"Why did you disappear without telling anyone?" Sherlock blurted out.

"I'm sorry if I worried you, or hurt you." As always, the doctor had seen through the question. "It was never my intention. I waited for Mycroft to do something for a whole week, until he told me for the umpteenth time that there was nothing he could do. It was then that I decided I needed to do something myself. I phoned Phil. Truth is Nick Fury has wanted to recruit me into S.H.I.E.L.D. since the third time I ended mostly-accidentally involved in one of their operations..."

"Mostly-accidentally?" The detective arched a brow.

"The first time was the one I mentioned to you before." John stated. "It was entirely coincidental that both of our teams were there at the same time. Though, of course, we were acting as escorts for a mercy mission, while S.H.I.E.L.D. was actually there to investigate the man oppressing the small town. It ended working in everyone's favor. There were a few more such missions, though we hardly ever saw each other, we just knew the others were around. The second time I had close contact with S.H.I.E.L.D. was in Kenya. I had been assigned as the base's second medic, as they really needed the help. Ran into two agents when they were trying to get away from a mission gone wrong, one of them was badly injured. After almost getting killed by the first agent's partner I managed to convince her to let me help. My name was never in any official reports, though of course there were people who were notified. The third time was less accidental. Phil actually sent me an encoded message about his team getting stranded in Budapest with no backup. The situation was volatile enough that they couldn't send anyone to extract them, but Phil refused to give up on them. He was too far away to be of any help, but I was actually posted in Serbia at the time... I was wired the resources necessary and it was simply a matter of taking some leave I was owed and buying a train ticket close enough to where the mess was taking place."

"You went into what was, for all intents and purposes, a battle-zone, a battle you had nothing to do with, to help two people you barely even knew?" Sherlock began asking, then switched his tone completely. "No, of course you did. You're the one who hears 'danger' and runs straight into it, aren't you?"

"Never said otherwise. You've known that since you met me. Have benefited from my addiction to danger and adrenaline. But it wasn't about the danger, it was about doing the right thing, about helping people because they needed to be saved. I became a doctor because I wanted to help people, then I joined the army because I felt like I wasn't doing enough just as a GP in a hospital in the city. If I could do more of course I was going to try."

"Then why did you not join S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Back when the offer came I'd already gotten a better one..." He went quiet, but he'd said enough.

"You worked for MI6!"

"I did." John actually smirked.

"Mycroft doesn't know, does he?"

"I don't think so. I imagine he would have called me in on it, had he known. All my files were pretty much destroyed five years into my service."

"But they only do that when they want to erase you, when..."

"I was a 00 candidate. Didn't actually make the cut in the end. It was bad enough I was fully dismissed from MI6 after that mission, in fact."

"What did you do?"

"Officially they called it insubordination. I ignored the main mission to take care of a badly injured agent. My companions finished the mission instead, and they were the ones to attain the rank of 00s." He shook his head. "The Agent I stayed behind for survived, though he never recovered fully and had to retire. It was enough that no charges for desertion or the like were pressed, though it was still decided that I couldn't be allowed to remain an Intelligence Officer, not when there was the risk I would blow other operations because my instincts to save a life were higher than those to finish a mission."

"Fools." Sherlock blurted out. "I'd still rather you have my back than anyone else."

"Alec and James said the same thing." John admitted.

"So you refused S.H.I.E.L.D.'s offer, and then what?"

"Well, after I left MI6 I went back to the army. A cover was given and I was sent first to France and then to Afghanistan. I was part of a mixed American and British base when Tony Stark was there to present his new weapon. Let me tell you something, what he showed that day, the Jericho missile... it's the scariest thing I've ever seen..." He shook his head. "I think it's a good thing he left weapon manufacturing before we actually had to see those things in a battlefield. The consequences would have been... too awful to even imagine." He let out a breath. "In any case, I was in a humvee with Lt. Rhodes when the attack happened. None of us could get close enough in time. More than a dozen soldiers, good men and women, were killed in seconds, and Mr. Stark was kidnapped... three months later he escaped."

"You were there..."

"I was there. I was his doctor. To this day I'm still the only doctor he's ever allowed to get anywhere close to that thing in his chest."

"You know what it is... what it actually does..." He shook his head. "Though of course you cannot say. Doctor-patient confidentiality, I know. I would never ask you break that kind of confidence."

"I know Sherlock, I know. Others have tried, but I've never said a thing. It's the reason why Tony still trusts me. I haven't told anyone, not even S.H.I.E.L.D."

"They tried to recruit you again after that, didn't they?"

"Yes, I said no, merely on principle. I knew they just wanted to use me. Didn't like it. Even Phil supported me on that instance."

"When was the last time you saw Stark?"

"Before you returned. There was some serious stuff, nearly got himself killed." He chuckled. "Turns out Pepper, his girlfriend, reads my blog. She'd read all about you, and about the Fall. When Tony found out he tried to get me to stay in Malibu, be his personal doctor or something... but I couldn't leave London. I couldn't... it was home. It was your home, I couldn't give that up."

"John..." Sherlock didn't know how to respond to that.

"Anyway, I think it went alright. I met Mary shortly after I returned... and alright, that'd didn't go so well. But you came back, and we met again, and things sorted themselves out and..."

John might have gone on for a while yet, pretty much babbling nonsense (he wasn't even aware of what he was saying by that point) except that Sherlock decided to take a leap and shut him up in the most unexpected way... by kissing him.

"Sherlock?!" John spluttered when they finally parted. "What do you think you're doing?"

The (former) detective shook his head before proceeding to do the same thing again.

"Sherlock!" John cried out, more strongly, when they separated for the second time. "What...?"

And then once again. It was about that time that it occurred to Sherlock that John might not be as 'alright' with what he was doing. He was pretty sure that the doctor shared his feelings, though that did not mean he was ready to accept them...

"John..." He was the one to break the kiss then, try and back away.

And of course John had to choose that time to finally be daring and pull Sherlock into yet another kiss. At least it (mostly) saved them the long awkward conversations, they both seemed to be on the same page... finally.

xXx

Eight months later John and Sherlock were sitting comfortably in a set of armchairs, in the sitting room of their apartment in Washington D.C. They'd just recently returned from their latest case in New Jersey, with a slight detour to allow John to pay a visit to Tony and do a check-up (they'd been doing those monthly since John was called to California to assist in the surgery that finally removed the shrapnel from his chest, as well as the arc-reactor). John had also been the one to supervise the way completed Extremis reacted with a human bodies; both in Pepper, who had been experimented on, and Tony, who injected it on himself to 'grow back' the bones and muscles that had been taken to fit in the first arc-reactor.

They were drinking some tea (proper British tea, as John tended to say whenever anyone tried to make him drink the American versions) and eating some scones (John had managed to convince Mrs. Hudson to tell him her recipe; when they heard the door open. Living in a S.H.I.E.L.D. apartment meant that there were a number of people, particularly their superiors, who all had access to the keys to all living spaces. Though, being Sherlock and John who they were, they'd still taken measures that allowed them to know who was at their door before they went in. And so they knew that right then it was Phil paying them a visit.

"Is this a social call?" John asked as soon as he saw the other man. "We did just come back from a mission, I thought we were allowed some down-time..."

"If this is not a social call, go away, we're not interested." Sherlock stated before taking a sip of his wine, only to then add. "If this is a social call, do still go away, the case is finished and John and I are going to celebrate."

John didn't stutter, look away, he didn't even really blush anymore. Used as he'd become to Sherlock's blunt way of speaking. Phil didn't react much either, his frequent contact with Tony had pretty much desensitized him. Also, he was too stubborn to just go.

"This is not a social call." Phil clarified. "However, I assure you, I will not take much of your time, you'll be able to go back to your celebrations once I'm gone..."

"Then, by all means, go ahead." Sherlock drawled.

"Fury has given his approval for a mobile command unit under my leadership." The Senior Agent explained the other two. I've been forming a team following the parameters he gave me. Thus far I have two science experts: a biochemist and an engineer, a specialist, and a pilot."

"Pilot?" John was confused by that one.

"We'll be using a remodeled Bus as base of operations." Phil explained.

"What does that have to do with either of us?" Sherlock inquired, not too interested. "What's even the point of a mobile command unit?"

"The point is for us to have freedom." Phil stated. "To choose our own actions, to make our own plans. No waiting for orders or authorization, no bureaucracy; all decisions will be made by us; from the missions we take to how we handle each situation." He made a pause before adding. "As for what this has to do with you, I would like you to join my team. What say you?"

John and Sherlock turned to look at each other, a whole conversation taking place with just a moment looking at each other. The answer was obvious.

"Should be interesting." The consulting detective said with a shrug. "Perhaps this way the cases will be above six... it's been so boring lately..."

"Yes." John answered even as he chuckled at his partner's comment. "We'd both like that."

"Very well." Phil nodded. "Report to HQs at seven a.m., three days from today." He nodded, before turning around and heading for the door. "You may go back to your celebrations now."

He didn't get an answer, and he knew why, behind him the two men had begun kissing already.

I had so many more ideas for this piece! I imagine Sherlock getting along famously with Skye (their snark), him taking it as a personal mission to help her find the truth about her past... and John pretty much tagging along to make sure they don't get killed (or destroy something) in the process. I imagine Sherlock and John taking Skye to Angelo's for dinner in the aftermath of the mission with the Berserker Staff, with most of the team still not talking to her, and one of them introducing her to Angelo as their sister... I imagine the mix of terror and helplessness they would feel after she's shot... John punching Ward with all he's got after his comment about 'just taking what he wants' from Skye... I imagine a Skye who eventually decides she doesn't need to find a family anymore, she's already got one, and nothing else matters...

In the end, the ideas weren't solid enough in my mind, and I just had no way to string them all together... Even if I had, that would have made this piece way too long, and there were other things that needed to be written!

There's more to come! See ya soon!