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21 August 2013 @ 09:16 pm
FIC: Emergency Protocol (1/2)  
Title: Emergency Protocol (1/2)
Author: joonscribble
Fandom: Skyfall & Sherlock (BBC)
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Nothing really.
Disclaimer: I don't own a single person who appears or is even mentioned in this.
Summary: Sometimes you have to balance work with family.
Author's Note: I guess I should go ahead and create a Skyfall tag since I seem committed to doing Sherlock/Skyfall crossovers. There's also a very teeny tiny Whitechapel crossover in here as well. My apologies to John Watson for this as well as his current state in Human Nature.


It was supposed to be a night off. Or as much of a night off as the head of an entire department at MI6 could hope for.

Comparatively speaking, Bond’s mission was simple enough. It was a local retrieval endeavor that most likely could have been accomplished by a lesser agent. But Bond was technically still banned by Medical from anything too strenuous after his last job. However, M noted (or perhaps promised for Bond’s sake) that the retrieval did have a chance at devolving into rounds of gunfire and lives being at peril. In either case, Q would be in his ear should any assistance be required with the breaking in portion of the evening. Evening being 1:21am in the morning.

While most groused at working odd hours, Q had never been one for routine bed times and enjoyed the respite of a near empty department. As a general rule there were at least a couple of other members of Q branch somewhere in the building for back up but they’d long scurried to the labs that usually doubled as a makeshift sleeping area.

Settled in his chair, Q quietly drank his tea as he tracked Bond’s movements. It would be at least twenty more minutes before the agent would need help to access the target building. Though Q idly wondered if Bond was in a foul enough mood from Medical’s restraint on him to just blast his way through. He wouldn’t put it past Bond to cause an explosion to simply make a point. As Q further tried to remember if his department had properly inventoried the explosives from Bond’s last mission, his mobile vibrated in his pocket.

The caller ID indicated it was Mycroft. Frowning, Q sent him to voicemail. He knew his brother was out of the country which most likely meant that Mycroft’s call would involve some sort of request and/or order for Q to track down the nearest most English-like chemist since apparently not even the infallible Anthea could handle Mycroft’s travel-induced finickyness. Mycroft’s last trip two years ago to Egypt had been like a secondary mission for Q.

His phone went off again, this time indicating a text.

ANSWER YOUR PHONE – M.H.

Q got through texting back half his reply of being at work when his phone vibrated again with a call from Mycroft. Q sighed.

“Aren’t you in South America?” he said, answering his phone.

“I need you to locate Sherlock straightaway,” was the reply.

That sounded troubling. “Has something happened?”

“Our brother and Doctor Watson were involved in an altercation earlier this evening in Whitechapel with a suspect. Doctor Watson has been shot.”

That was troubling.

“Lestrade has assured me that Sherlock is physically sound,” Mycroft continued, his voice sounding about as soothing as he was capable. “He accompanied both of them to Royal London Hospital but has since lost track of Sherlock. He’s concerned about the sudden disappearance.”

So was Mycroft, clearly which Q couldn’t disagree with. He quickly fired up his personal laptop and set into accessing Royal London Hospital’s records. “I see Doctor Watson’s admittance record. He’s still listed as being in surgery for a gunshot wound and resulting collapsed lung,” Q read aloud. There was no information as yet of prognosis.

Mycroft made a speculative noise. “Most likely those in charge of updating the file are busy insuring that the update be positive news.”

Flagging the system to notify him when the file was updated, Q closed out of the records. “Where is the suspect?” he asked.

“Whitechapel’s finest arrested him an hour ago.” Q frowned. That was actually more troubling. If the suspect was still at large, locating Sherlock would be significantly easier as his reasons for disappearing would be plain enough.

“I don’t suppose anyone at the Whitechapel station has seen him,” Q inquired, already guessing the answer.

“No, though I have left word with DI Chandler to keep an eye out.”

It was a prudent measure but Q doubted Sherlock would be storming the station any time soon, even if his brother had the idea of doing something extremely unpleasant to the man who had shot Watson.

As if reading his mind, Mycroft reiterated, “You need to find Sherlock. He’s not at Baker Street nor is he answering his phone or my texts. At the moment I can’t return to England for at least another two days.”

And there was little chance that anyone outside the two of them would have much luck in finding Sherlock.

Q checked on Bond’s progress. He would be calling in about 15 minutes. Q knew he couldn’t support the mission while searching for Sherlock. Even if he did most of the searching from his chair, he would eventually have to exit the building and he could hardly traipse about London while conducting a mission. Logically Q knew that back up was there for these types of situations. However he had not once turned over an assignment before and the thought of doing it now rankled him. Still, this was special circumstances.

“I’ll let you know when I find him,” Q promised.

He placed a call to Gunderson.

“Sir?” Gunderson sounded groggy, indicating he had probably been sleeping on the cots.

“I need you to take over for me. Bond’s ETA is 14 minutes.”

Like any MI6 employee worth his salt, Gunderson didn’t even ask why the sudden change but merely answered with a “Yes, sir. Be up straightaway.”

With that settled, Q linked himself to Bond.

“Feeling eager, are we?” asked Bond by way of greeting. “I’m still a few minutes out.”

“Something’s come up. I’ll have to transfer you to Gunderson for the evening.”

There was a momentary pause. “At the risk of sounding needy, is there someone else?”

“In a way, yes,” replied Q. “Have no fear. Gunderson is excellent and he’ll get instructions to contact me should any complications arise.” He’d deal with the consequences later should Gunderson call him while he was in a very not secure location.

“This is not inspiring confidence in the reliability of the young,” said Bond, lightly.

“Don’t be so unimaginative, 007. Reliability comes in many forms.”

Q could practically see Bond’s smirk at that. “True. Enjoy your evening. Don’t worry on my account.”

“Now you really do sound needy.”

Ending the call, Q opened his program for the CCTV cameras and called up the footage from Whitechapel. In fuzzy 2 dimension, he watched the familiar figures of Sherlock and Doctor Watson pursuing a man. At some point, somewhere in between the eyes of the camera, Sherlock and Watson had gotten separated. Q could see his brother running in rapid pursuit on Mansell Street. The last seen footage of Watson would mean he had little choice but to end up on Buckle Street which was a dead end.  Q called up the nearest camera which frustratingly was on Leman but only displayed a segment of Buckle. It had caught both the suspect and Doctor Watson turning into Buckle but not much of what happened after. The suspect exited out the same way not two minutes later. He would have collided into Sherlock had he not been several crucial seconds faster.

On the screen, Sherlock’s run clearly indicated he had every intention of following but something to his right had caught his attention. He disappeared from view as he dashed instead down Buckle. The rest showed the inevitable arrival of the paramedics and police.

By the time Q was viewing Watson being loaded into the ambulance with Sherlock and Lestrade not far behind, Gunderson arrived looking not at all like he had been in deep sleep five minutes ago.

**

Sherlock knew most of the CCTV camera locations in London, Q having given him more than half of the spots himself. If his brother wished to avoid detection via any kind of facial recognition, he very well could. But even his brother didn’t know every location and there were still a handful of cameras at Q’s disposal that could assist him in at least narrowing down possible places.

In his office, Q ran his facial recognition program starting from the Royal London Hospital and outward to a 15 kilometer radius. As the system began to flag possibilities, Q reviewed the footage of Sherlock just missing the suspect and making his turn into Buckle Street rather than continuing on.

Q had met and spoken to Doctor Watson on a few of occasions. He had judged the doctor to be mostly average to above average in terms of intelligence and personality. He was nice, but not overly so. Polite, though prone to sarcasm if the situation warranted. He handled stressful situations with better aplomb than most, though that was expected given his military service. In short, Q found Watson about as pleasant as expected and overall liked the man.

But he had initially been nonplussed at Sherlock’s intense inclusion of Watson into his life. His brother was nothing if not a lifelong hater of things average. However, Watson appeared to be the exception to a certain degree. Something about him Sherlock found interesting and Q wondered if perhaps that’s all it took to make Watson from average to extraordinary. Watson’s influence on his brother was plain enough as time went on and in general Q had found the small, but noticeable changes a positive aspect to their partnership.

However, the downside was that it had gotten a little more challenging to predict Sherlock’s behavior. Q was positive that a year ago Sherlock would have continued to pursue the suspect, a man bleeding out on the street or no. But Sherlock had made the choice to stay and help rather than run on. So where would Sherlock go to now?

The laptop chirped, the program’s screen switched to a marked map of London. Q studied the blinking red dots with corresponding times that gave at least a rudimentary trace of Sherlock’s movements since leaving hospital. The data left about five possible locations. To the left of the program’s screen, the footage of Sherlock turning into Buckle Street played again. Q stared at the miniature version of his brother disappearing to help his friend and glanced at the map again.

Making a deduction, Q gathered his things to exit the building.

NEXT

 
 
 
The Writer They Call Tayawanderingbard on August 22nd, 2013 04:02 am (UTC)
Yay fic! I am excited!

First off, I will assure you that your Bond is spot on. I especially like his 'is there someone else' line. He sounds very much like himself.

And poor John! Oh, dear. I hope he's okay. I honestly have no faith in you not to break my heart, so I am worried about his fate.

I like Q's assessment of John, and his bewilderment at why Sherlock has grown attached to him. I also like Q's very in character nonchalant response to bad things happening.

Looking forward to the rest!
formerly lifeinsomniacjoonscribble on August 22nd, 2013 04:32 am (UTC)
He sounds very much like himself.

Whew, thanks!

And poor John! Oh, dear. I hope he's okay. I honestly have no faith in you not to break my heart, so I am worried about his fate.

SPOILER: he'll be fine. Not even I can have John be dead in two stories at once.
The Writer They Call Tayawanderingbard on August 22nd, 2013 04:44 am (UTC)
SPOILER: he'll be fine. Not even I can have John be dead in two stories at once.

Ha! Oh, I can just imagine how pissed off he would be about that. His Human Nature ghost would be following you around, yelling.
formerly lifeinsomniacjoonscribble on August 22nd, 2013 04:46 am (UTC)
His Human Nature ghost would be following you around, yelling.

I'd advise him to yell at Sherlock as he's the reason why that story's sort of stuck. Aziraphale and Crowley could convey the message for him. Best go with Crowley. He'd probably convey the message at the same volume as John was delivering it.
The Writer They Call Tayawanderingbard on August 22nd, 2013 04:52 am (UTC)
Oh God, the image of a yelling chain actually made me lol.

Is Sherlock still not speaking?
formerly lifeinsomniacjoonscribble on August 22nd, 2013 05:00 am (UTC)
John: ALL THIS WOULD BE SO MUCH EASIER
Crowley: ALL THIS WOULD BE SO MUCH EASIER
John: I'D CERTAINLY BE LESS DEAD
Crowley: I'D CERTAINLY BE LESS DEAD
John: IF YOU WEREN'T SUCH A...such a...
Crowley: IF YOU WEREN'T SUCH AN TWO TONNE IMMOVABLE BASTARD.
John: ...what?
Crowley: You were flagging.

Is Sherlock still not speaking?

It's a bit that and also me trying to decide just how much information he should have about the Good Omens-verse. He already has decided it's in his head so I suppose it makes little difference. But I feel he needs some data in order to make deductions that are halfway appropriate.
The Writer They Call Tayawanderingbard on August 22nd, 2013 05:05 am (UTC)
Hahahaha! Brilliant,

But I feel he needs some data in order to make deductions that are halfway appropriate.

Well, I suppose you could say in for a penny in for a pound. He's already learned about angels and demons and ghosts, so throwing the rest at him doesn't seem too far fetched. Have you tried working backwards from what you want him to deduce and then figuring out how much he needs to know to deduce it?
formerly lifeinsomniacjoonscribble on August 22nd, 2013 05:07 am (UTC)
Have you tried working backwards from what you want him to deduce and then figuring out how much he needs to know to deduce it?

That's an idea! He only needs to deduce a few things.

If Sherlock truly refuses to be more cooperative, I could sort of write around him and give his deductions to other characters. Maybe that threat will jump start him.
The Writer They Call Tayawanderingbard on August 22nd, 2013 05:09 am (UTC)
It could be he's being difficult because he's not meant to deduce those things. I find that f you're trying to write a character doing something not in his character, he will make it impossible for you.

Or, it's Sherlock. Maybe he's holding himself hostage in hope that you will stop killing John.
formerly lifeinsomniacjoonscribble on August 22nd, 2013 05:14 am (UTC)
Or, it's Sherlock. Maybe he's holding himself hostage in hope that you will stop killing John.

Sherlock's got it wrong. If he makes me sit on this story long enough, John will end up getting killed and/or maimed in some other story.
aelfgyfu_mead: Sherlock and Johnaelfgyfu_mead on August 22nd, 2013 12:36 pm (UTC)
Sherlock's got it wrong. If he makes me sit on this story long enough, John will end up getting killed and/or maimed in some other story.
Silly Sherlock!
formerly lifeinsomniacjoonscribble on August 22nd, 2013 11:59 pm (UTC)
Silly Sherlock!

For a man who prizes data and logic above all else, he can be extremely difficult to reason with.
aelfgyfu_mead: John Watsonaelfgyfu_mead on August 22nd, 2013 12:35 pm (UTC)
SPOILER: he'll be fine. Not even I can have John be dead in two stories at once.
Hee hee!
formerly lifeinsomniacjoonscribble on August 23rd, 2013 12:00 am (UTC)
Hee hee!

I swear John's my 2nd favorite!
aelfgyfu_mead: Watson plotaelfgyfu_mead on August 22nd, 2013 12:34 pm (UTC)
Poor John!

Poor Sherlock! I have no idea where he has gone if not to the hospital. I eagerly await the second part.
formerly lifeinsomniacjoonscribble on August 23rd, 2013 12:00 am (UTC)
I eagerly await the second part.

Coming to an LJ near you over the weekend!