A/N: Hello everyone, surprise! The fact there is still activity on this story is astounding, bless your hearts. With Infinity War out and all, I just wanted to note that this story takes place loosely after Age of Ultron.

A quick recap for those left on that cliffhanger two years ago, Sherlock and John have just been captured by SHIELD and have been taken in for interrogation by Agent Natasha Romanoff and Nick Fury. As you may imagine, it's not going so well for anyone involved.

SMACK

The sound of a hand meeting face rang across the interrogation room.

"Mr. Holmes, you can either cooperate with the proceedings, or you can find yourself falling off this Helicarrier!" Fury shouted, rubbing his face where Sherlock had just carelessly hit him.

"I'm incredibly sorry sir, he's normally much more behaved than this," John stammered, holding back the aggravated detective.

"It's the nerve agent we gave him," said Agent Romanoff, walking across the room, "side effects include increased volatility."

"Make Sherlock more volatile? It's like you're asking for a hole in the wall," John muttered, tightening his grip on the now-thrashing Sherlock.

"Just lemme, have another go at him…I can do it John, let me go," Sherlock's slurred speech tried unconvincingly to free himself.

"That's enough. Agent Romanoff, please." Fury ordered.

"With pleasure." Natasha left her strategic position by the steel door and injected a blue substance into Sherlock. In an instant, his body slackened, and his angry expletives turned into incoherent mutters.

"Finally, we can get started," Fury said, grasping control of the small, bleak interrogation room. "First question, are your full names Sherlock Holmes and John Hamish Watson?"

Two 'yes's were mumbled in response.

"Now, can either of you tell me what the hell were you doing in Sokovia?"

"I'm a detective… I was detecting." Sherlock's drugged response was met with frustration from both sides.

"But why were you there? Your rapport shows that you have a thing for solving murders, not historical sight-seeing."

John explained, "Sorry sir, we were not aware that we couldn't go onto the premises-"

"You know," Sherlock interrupted loudly, "For a 'historical sight' there's been an awful amount of radioactive activity in that area."

"And how did you conclude that, Mr. Holmes?" Fury challenged.

"Well, when SHIELD released all their records onto the internet after your HYDRA fiasco, I downloaded a couple of the programs and have been observing worldwide radiation through you since."

"You've been hacking SHIELD this entire time?" John exclaimed.

"Well it's not really 'hacking' if they make themselves as accessible as Internet Explorer." Sherlock said flippantly.

"Lovely," Fury glowered. "So what were you two going to do once you had reached Sokovia?"

"I'm a detective," Sherlock pointed out again, "I was going to investigate, and then tell Graham Lestrade about it."

"What he's trying to say is that we- well I have a blog. We would've just posted our findings and moved on." John quickly explained.

"Well I hope for your sake that the blog's only readers are yourselves, because this entire situation is strictly classified!" Fury asserted. "If you don't want to find yourselves locked in a cell in the middle of nowhere, then I suggest you keep your mouths shut."

Sherlock covered his mouth with his hand and stared at Fury as if to say okay, there you have it. John, on the other hand, suppressed a growing urge to run straight into the wall. "We truly are sorry, Mr. Fury, but Sherlock and I had no foul intentions whatsoever. If you just let us go, we promise you will never have to deal with us again."

Fury chuckled. "I wish that were the case, Mr. Watson," he said, procuring two manila folders titled with their respective names. "We've been watching you two for a while now."

"What?" John sputtered, glancing between Fury and Agent Romanoff with a new air of alarm.

"In the past two years, you two have been involved with three public menaces, two terrorist cells, and a royal scandal" Fury lists off. "Tell me how I am supposed to rest easy when I discover you two have come to mess in our business as well."

John exasperatedly said, "Look, as I've said before, we did not mean any harm, sir, and-"

"I do not care about what you intended, what matters now is that you entered illegal premises, set off readings, and have caused harm in the process whether you are aware of that or not." Fury glared at the pair with his single eye. "This situation is larger than both of you comprehend, and I hope you are both prepared to face due consequence."

John's mouth stood slightly open in shock as his grip on Sherlock slackened. In one final lurch Sherlock came tumbling at Nick Fury, arms spread like a rugby tackle.

"What- Romanoff!" Fury called.

In one swift movement Natasha had shoved Sherlock back into his seat and administered the last of the sedative serum, emptying the contents of the syringe. Sherlock gave one final grunt before lolling to the side into a state of subconscious.

"Well, I guess that's all for now. Agent, escort them to the refurbished quarters, I will convene everyone in thirty." And with that, Fury strode out of the room, his black coat billowing dramatically behind him.

A moment of silence passed before Romanoff indicated for them to follow her, leaving John to deal with Sherlock. Thankfully he was already stirring and could ungracefully stumble his way down the brightly lit halls of the Helicarrier. After several winding passages and steel mechanized doors, Sherlock and John were deposited into a room larger than the last, properly furnished as if to house its captives for an extended period of time.

"Clean up, get some rest, if you can. I'll be back in thirty minutes." Romanoff stated curtly, turning around and clipping back the way they had come from.

The moment she was out of sight, Sherlock slumped into one of the chairs, his head hanging limply off the back.

"Well that could have gone worse," he muttered, glancing at the veins in his hands, tinged blue from the injections. "Although I am starting to see why the US has an opioid epidemic, I've never been administered this much benzodiazepines in my life."

John scoffed, "Maybe if you hadn't acted up so much they wouldn't have had to shoot you up so many times!"

"You think I didn't realize that? I let them 'shoot me up,' it's been a while since my last fix."

"Sherlock!"

"What? Mycroft's been monitoring my supplies."

John shook his head exasperatedly, before walking a few paces to survey the new room that they were in.

Apart from the chair that Sherlock had accommodated, there were two cots pushed up to either side of the room and a shaky table between them. John pushed open a squeaking door to his left to find a functioning sink and toilet. Above the sink hung a mirror, which allowed John to observe the damage done since the past 24 hours.

Light bruises from his scuffle with Hawkeye were starting to form on his cheek and parts of his upper arm, and the circles under his eyes seemed to get darker with them. A bit of dirt was smudged onto his forehead, and shallow scabs were littered across his face and hands. Minor damage.

After a quick rinse John looked up to find a pile of jet black cloth, stacked on a shelf above the toilet, and unfolded them to reveal several sets of clean SHIELD uniforms. John looked down once at his muggy outfit and quickly changed into one of the standard issued shirt and pants, and upon emerging from the bathroom, threw a pair at Sherlock.

"Come on Sherlock, if you want them to act remotely nice to you, you've got to look the part."

Tony Stark looked off into the pale clouds that surrounded the Helicarrier, processing what Romanoff had just informed them.

"So Fury's taking in strays now?" He asked.

"Not so much 'taking in,' more like 'holding them here against their will until we can determine if they are going to be of use to SHEILD," Natasha stated.

"So, kidnapping," Clint offered, holding a bag of ice to his slowly swelling face.

"No, we're giving them the option of leaving once they come down here to meet with us," she corrected, "but it would be in their best interests to stay."

"So, blackmailing," Steve chimed in.

Natasha shrugged and perched herself onto the railing next to Tony when a hiss signaled the metal door sliding open. John and Sherlock stood behind it, John looking shocked to see all of their adversaries in one room, Sherlock surveying the space and already determining four routes of escape.

"Uh, hi," John started cautiously, "so we were told to come here, I don't know if we should be here but-"

"Yes, you are in the right place," Steve crossed the room and stuck out his hand, "Steve Rogers."

"Hi Steve- I mean, Captain," John stumbled, shaking his hand far too vigorously.

"You must be Major John Watson," Steve said, then turning to address Sherlock, "and you are-"

"Sherlock Holmes, thank you" Sherlock stated curtly, before sweeping past Steve and peering out the window. "This is a 100,000 ton hull carrying military-grade weaponry, and yet not a single shot has been fired at it. How?" he inquired to no one in particular.

"Retro-reflective panels integrated with radar cloaking capabilities," Tony immediately answered.

"And sound?" Sherlock shot back.

Tony shrugged. "We're 50,000 feet above sea level, I don't think anyone's listening."

Natasha suddenly stood up. "Look, I know that we've had a shaky start-"

John snorted.

"But at this point in time we have to look ahead towards future threats and endangerments that potentially involve you the two of you," she finished.

"Why on earth would a superhero law enforcement team want two detectives from Britain?" Sherlock questioned skeptically, "Because if you are looking for diversity, this isn't it."

"Yes, why do we want them?" Tony interjected.

"Because we've received message that some organization has been secretly accumulating blackmail on every top official on Washington and SHIELD. Scandals, classified cases, data plans, nuclear launch codes. They have threatened to release every last byte unless we give them what they want, and that's where you come in."

"Pardon?" John interrupted.

"They want you," Natasha zeroed in on Sherlock, "they want you as ransom."

"And who is it that wants me?" Sherlock asked skeptically.

"We only have a name. Irene Adler."

Sherlock paused.

"Ah."