BBC Sherlock fic
Rating 12 (implied sexual activity). NOTE: this is the rating of the text itself. I'm not responsible for the rating in your mind.
Spoilers: set a few weeks after a Study in Pink, spoilers for that
Summary: some people have been looking for John/Mycroft stuff, but I couldn't visualise it. Then I realised I didn't need to.
"Is this the same warehouse as last month, Mycroft? If so, I think I will have a chair this time."
"Do you know why I've brought you here, Dr Watson?"
"Because your office is being redecorated? This place doesn't have quite the same air of menace now I know you're not an arch-criminal."
"I wanted to discuss Sherlock with you. I'm worried about him."
"The thing is, a normal bloke, if they wanted to have a quiet word with their brother's flatmate, would invite him to the pub, or have a chat on the phone. Not drive him in an unmarked car halfway across London."
"Some things aren't really suitable for chatting about in pubs. I'm worried that my brother's associating with killers."
"Bit of an occupational hazard for a consulting detective, I'd say."
"Sharing a flat with one."
"I was a soldier, yes, but a medic as well. I've saved the lives of a lot more people than I've killed."
"I'm sure you have, but in civilian life we have rather stricter rules about when you're allowed to shoot people."
"I didn't think those kind of rules applied in London."
"Let's not be stupid - brave - here, Dr Watson. You killed that cabbie, didn't you?"
"Lestrade doesn't seem to think so."
"Bullets can be uniquely matched to a particular gun, you know."
"Yep. If the Met don't have a mix-up and lose the evidence, that is. You'd be amazed what goes missing from your average police station."
"Dr Watson, I have the bullet."
"But they're not going to press charges, are they? The CPS don't take on cases where the odds of conviction are low. A serial killer was threatening his next victim with a gun. I had to do something, you must see that."
"It was a fake gun."
"I couldn't tell that from where I was."
"You still might not like the publicity of a trial. Or rather, other people might not like it. Worries about whether an ex-soldier with PTSD should still have a firearms certificate. And I don't know what the General Medical Council's policy on gun control is."
"So you've brought me here to try and blackmail me into spying on Sherlock for you?"
"No, I've brought you here to blackmail Sherlock into co-operating with me. Dr Watson, what are you doing?"
"Taking my jumper off. And after that I'm going to take the rest of my clothes off. But do you think we could go somewhere a bit less chilly than this warehouse before I get down to my Y-fronts?"
"It's not a very nice hotel, is it? Doesn't your expense account run to something better than this, Mycroft?"
"The warehouse isn't in a very salubrious area, and I didn't want you outside for too long without a shirt on, wouldn't be healthy. Now what exactly is it that you think your stripping will accomplish?"
"Give you a thrill?"
"I am not that way inclined."
"Put you one up on Sherlock, because he hasn't seen me naked yet?"
"I suppose if you choose to strip, I can hardly prevent your exhibitionism. There are no cameras in this room, by the way."
"Just as well. A man likes a bit of privacy for seduction."
"Are you trying to seduce me, Dr Watson?"
"Yep. So do you think you could co-operate a bit and call me John?"
"Dr Watson, John. I really have no idea what you're trying to do, and I suspect nor have you. Do you think even for the sake of getting an advantage over Sherlock I'd be prepared to get...intimate with you?"
"Well, I'm here if you're interested. Take a good look, Mycroft, my body's not bad, is it?"
"But perfectly formed."
"Only if you get a thrill from scar tissue. Should I get Anthea to take you home now, John? After you've got dressed again, obviously. I think we've demonstrated once and for all that this isn't going to work."
"You haven't seen what I'm going to do next."
"Oh, dear. Do you really think I'm finding this a turn on?"
"No, but as you can see, I am."
"You're not going to...do they normally do this kind of thing in the army?"
"All the time. Meet a pal, sit around talking for a bit, have a quick...wank. Of course, there's normally more beer and porn involved in between, but you're probably in a hurry, Mycroft, so I thought we'd skip that bit. What's your taste in dirty videos, so I'll know next time?"
"Nothing involving...fluids. That is absolutely disgusting, you're...dripping on the carpet. If the hotel charges extra, you're paying for it."
"Bloody hard to get all traces of that off, I suspect."
"I really have no idea."
"Which is why, you're now screwed. Metaphorically that is. My DNA in this room, you photographed leaving the hotel with me. Or photographed in the hotel with me, if you prefer to stay. If we're still here tomorrow morning, Sherlock will be dropping by, along with the receptionist."
"Not even Sherlock could have worked out where we are in time to be outside with a camera yet."
"He didn't need to work it out. You can get these really nifty tracking devices nowadays."
"Anthea searched you when you arrived at the warehouse."
"Not that thorough a search, for obvious reasons."
"Ugh. That must have hurt."
"Third most painful thing I've done in my life."
"And all this...effort to no avail. My dear John, this is the twenty first century, you realise? Who cares if I'm having gay encounters, however squalid?"
"They're surprisingly understanding about one's personal life."
"But it's not your personal life, is it? Because you were careless and paid for this room just now with a credit card. And I bet it's not your personal credit card, because you wouldn't want Mummy to see this kind of hotel on your statement, would you?"
"The credit card is in someone else's name."
"But the money comes from an official account, doesn't it? Spending taxpayer's money on personal business. Not a good move in the current financial climate."
"Who says it was personal business in this room? I was trying to seduce you for the good of the state, John. And judging by the physical evidence remaining, it looks like I was successful."
"Mycroft Hari. very impressive. And what unusual techniques you have. Your colleagues will be amazed to hear how inventive you are sexually."
"Sherlock spent this afternoon writing the e-mails we sent to one another earlier. I've left that all up to him, because he can write those kind of conversations so much better than I can. You'd be amazed the things he's prepared to put in our mouths."
"All right. Tell me what you want, you and Sherlock. Money, honours, drugs? Or employment perhaps? The service always has positions open for men prepared to play the kind of games you do."
"Just back off the surveillance."
"It's for your own good, John."
"It's winding Sherlock up. The last time your lot searched the flat they swiped half his supplies. The time before that was worse."
"They tidied some of Sherlock's papers up, mucked up his train of thought for days. And we, I'd like some days off from surveillance, please."
"On the grounds that master criminals don't work at weekends?"
"On the grounds that knowing I'm being watched cramps my style dating."
"You seemed remarkably unconcerned about your private life being on display tonight. Not very advanced surveillance techniques required."
"Tonight was business, the weekend's pleasure. Do we have a deal, Mycroft, or are you ready for your close-up?"
"Text me when you want the watchers called off, but it's on your own head if things go wrong. Do you know, Dr Watson, when I first met you I thought you might be the making of my brother. I was completely wrong about that, I see now."
"You're completely wrong about a lot of things. I'll head off now and find Sherlock. Good night."
"And I suggest you remember for next time, Mycroft, that if you fuck with Sherlock now, you're also fucking with me."
"298, 299, 300. I think we can assume that Dr Watson is now outside the hotel. So if you hold on for a minute, I'll get my ear piece in and we can talk."
"Can you hear me OK, sir?"
"Loud and clear, Anthea. Did you manage to record everything? I never trust these transmitter thingies to work properly, especially since we had to relocate."
"Patchy coverage between the warehouse and the hotel, but fine once you were in the room itself. Good sound levels for both of you, you obviously kept him close enough."
"Yes. I'm sorry you had to hear some of that conversation, Anthea. I hadn't expected Dr Watson to be so crude."
"Did he really, I mean, while you were watching?"
"I'm afraid so. Awfully coarsening effect the army has on a man."
"So what's the next step, sir? How many copies of the recording do you want? One for 221B and one for the files obviously, but is there anyone else who should be having a copy at this stage?"
"I...think not. I'm afraid there's nothing usable on the recording, so you might just as well delete it."
"Oh, but maybe keep a transcript for our own files. In case I have to justify the meeting as being on official business. But a transcript's enough, just the words down in black and white, show it was a professionally run operation."
"I'll get Tina on it tonight, sir."
"I'd prefer if you did the transcribing yourself, actually, Anthea. No use getting other people involved in a failed operation."
"Right you are. Any further instructions?"
"Just that when you do the transcripts, you needn't worry about trying to put in any unintelligible material or extraneous noises. Doesn't really add anything, it's the words that matter."
"I understand, sir. Do you need me to do the transcript tonight?"
"No, tomorrow's fine. I'll finish up here and then head home."
"OK, sir. And if I might suggest, you should probably remove the wire at this point."
"I'll be sure to do that. Good night, Anthea."
"Good night, sir. Take care."
[End of official transcript: SIS/DPG/26095-A. Additional material version – f.a.o. "C" only]