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Entry tags:
National Security Issue
Notes: This is a Bondlock fic (I know, I know it’s a pretty done crossover by now) inspired by Mycroft’s talk about “the other one” and a slow Sunday.
Summary: When the youngest Holmes brother gets the promotion of a life time there's one person he really wants to tell.
When he left M’s office the newly appointed Quartermaster in the MI6 was shaking so badly that he had to sit down on the waiting bench in the outer room. Vanessa gave him a smile that he couldn’t answer, afraid he was going to barf.
“Do you want a glass of water?” she asked, and he barely managed to nod.
When she came back he had almost stopped shaking and most of the colour had returned to his face.
“Thank you,” he said, taking the glass with both hands just to be on the safe side.
“You’ll be great, you know,” Vanessa said, obviously well aware of what type of news had put him in this state. “You won’t let her down and she’ll always be there to catch you.”
Sherrinford Holmes smiled faintly, trying to make the least bit of sense out of what had happened in the conversation he’d had with M. Q had announced his retirement, that wasn’t news and he was to leave in May. They would promote from inside which was according to protocol. He had thought he’d been called to M’s office today to share opinions on how this-or-that colleague would work as the new head of the department because many other senior members of the Q-branch had been. Not all of them with M. Actually, when he thought about it, no one had been called to M. They had been talking with HR.
He took a sip of water, leaned back against the wall, and smiled when he realised that if he had been any of his brothers this wouldn’t have been such a shock. Deductive reasoning wasn’t really his forte and this had been too farfetched for him to even consider beforehand.
As soon as he trusted his legs again he stood up, putting the glass down on Vanessa’s desk and thanking her again before he left. Still shaken by what probably was the promotion of a lifetime he returned to his office, a glass cage lit by terrible florescent tubes. He turned on his computer, stared at the code he had left to go to the meeting with M, but instead of continuing he picked up his mobile.
“Mr Holmes’ Office of Supreme Genius, how may I serve you, oh fortunate one?” a woman answered after two beeps.
“I’m not entirely sure if I’m hoping that you have an override on your caller-ID or if that is how you usually answer the phone,” he said, just barely containing a laugh.
“Oh, some mysteries just aren’t to be solved.”
“If you say so,” he said, still grinning at her absurd greeting. “On a scale from Sherlock to himself, how busy is Old Brolly?”
The woman chuckled. “He can probably take your call, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“It is.”
“Just a moment.”
He was put on hold and a short moment later his oldest brother came on the line.
“Sherrinford.”
“Mycroft.”
“To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Sherrinford looked at the code on the screen, a smile teasing in the corner of his mouth. “What I’m about to tell you is nonofficial information that might have bearing on national security.”
Mycroft sighed and took him off speaker. “Will I have to report you for treason? Again.”
“I’m the new Quartermaster.”
Mycroft was quiet for a moment. “I didn’t know you had applied for it.”
“The less you know, the less you’ll be tempted to meddle.”
Mycroft snorted. Sherrinford smile, his heart pounding hard in his chest after saying his new title out loud.
“There was no point in telling anyone, I wasn’t supposed to get it,” he admitted. “I’m a computer engineer, not an administrator.”
“They must think differently.”
“Or just be mental.”
“I sincerely hope the SIS leadership isn’t, in any way, ‘mental’.”
Sherrinford smirked. He looked out through the glass walls at his colleagues who would soon be his subordinates. What on earth would they think about all of this? What would Woodrow and Carr say? What would Moore? He knew Moore had applied for the job and he had been in the Service since before Sherrinford had started at Eton. That would probably become… awkward.
“Are you still there?” Mycroft asked, making Sherrinford turn his eyes back to the computer.
“Yes.”
“Age is no guarantee for competence, and youth doesn’t equal inexperience,” Mycroft said calmly, as if he was reading Sherrinford’s doubts over the phone. “I believe that you’re more than competent for this.”
Sherrinford sighed in relief. “Really?”
“Yes.”
They became quiet again. Sherrinford strongly suspected Mycroft to say what he’d said just to calm him down, but the fact that he didn’t express his concerns was proof that he at least didn’t think the idea of his younger brother as the head of the Q-branch as completely ludicrous. That was extremely comforting. He smiled when he realised that he finally started to actually see the code on his screen again.
“We should get back to work,” Sherrinford said.
“Indeed,” Mycroft said. “And Sherrinford?”
“Yes?”
“Congratulations.”
Sherrinford smiled. “Thank you.”
Mycroft hung up without saying anything else. Sherrinford sat with the phone to his ear for another minute before putting it down. He straightened up in his chair and jumped to the beginning of his code. He might be the next Quartermaster, but as for now he was still just a hacker and a programmer and he thought that he might just have spotted the error in his code…
Summary: When the youngest Holmes brother gets the promotion of a life time there's one person he really wants to tell.
When he left M’s office the newly appointed Quartermaster in the MI6 was shaking so badly that he had to sit down on the waiting bench in the outer room. Vanessa gave him a smile that he couldn’t answer, afraid he was going to barf.
“Do you want a glass of water?” she asked, and he barely managed to nod.
When she came back he had almost stopped shaking and most of the colour had returned to his face.
“Thank you,” he said, taking the glass with both hands just to be on the safe side.
“You’ll be great, you know,” Vanessa said, obviously well aware of what type of news had put him in this state. “You won’t let her down and she’ll always be there to catch you.”
Sherrinford Holmes smiled faintly, trying to make the least bit of sense out of what had happened in the conversation he’d had with M. Q had announced his retirement, that wasn’t news and he was to leave in May. They would promote from inside which was according to protocol. He had thought he’d been called to M’s office today to share opinions on how this-or-that colleague would work as the new head of the department because many other senior members of the Q-branch had been. Not all of them with M. Actually, when he thought about it, no one had been called to M. They had been talking with HR.
He took a sip of water, leaned back against the wall, and smiled when he realised that if he had been any of his brothers this wouldn’t have been such a shock. Deductive reasoning wasn’t really his forte and this had been too farfetched for him to even consider beforehand.
As soon as he trusted his legs again he stood up, putting the glass down on Vanessa’s desk and thanking her again before he left. Still shaken by what probably was the promotion of a lifetime he returned to his office, a glass cage lit by terrible florescent tubes. He turned on his computer, stared at the code he had left to go to the meeting with M, but instead of continuing he picked up his mobile.
“Mr Holmes’ Office of Supreme Genius, how may I serve you, oh fortunate one?” a woman answered after two beeps.
“I’m not entirely sure if I’m hoping that you have an override on your caller-ID or if that is how you usually answer the phone,” he said, just barely containing a laugh.
“Oh, some mysteries just aren’t to be solved.”
“If you say so,” he said, still grinning at her absurd greeting. “On a scale from Sherlock to himself, how busy is Old Brolly?”
The woman chuckled. “He can probably take your call, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“It is.”
“Just a moment.”
He was put on hold and a short moment later his oldest brother came on the line.
“Sherrinford.”
“Mycroft.”
“To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Sherrinford looked at the code on the screen, a smile teasing in the corner of his mouth. “What I’m about to tell you is nonofficial information that might have bearing on national security.”
Mycroft sighed and took him off speaker. “Will I have to report you for treason? Again.”
“I’m the new Quartermaster.”
Mycroft was quiet for a moment. “I didn’t know you had applied for it.”
“The less you know, the less you’ll be tempted to meddle.”
Mycroft snorted. Sherrinford smile, his heart pounding hard in his chest after saying his new title out loud.
“There was no point in telling anyone, I wasn’t supposed to get it,” he admitted. “I’m a computer engineer, not an administrator.”
“They must think differently.”
“Or just be mental.”
“I sincerely hope the SIS leadership isn’t, in any way, ‘mental’.”
Sherrinford smirked. He looked out through the glass walls at his colleagues who would soon be his subordinates. What on earth would they think about all of this? What would Woodrow and Carr say? What would Moore? He knew Moore had applied for the job and he had been in the Service since before Sherrinford had started at Eton. That would probably become… awkward.
“Are you still there?” Mycroft asked, making Sherrinford turn his eyes back to the computer.
“Yes.”
“Age is no guarantee for competence, and youth doesn’t equal inexperience,” Mycroft said calmly, as if he was reading Sherrinford’s doubts over the phone. “I believe that you’re more than competent for this.”
Sherrinford sighed in relief. “Really?”
“Yes.”
They became quiet again. Sherrinford strongly suspected Mycroft to say what he’d said just to calm him down, but the fact that he didn’t express his concerns was proof that he at least didn’t think the idea of his younger brother as the head of the Q-branch as completely ludicrous. That was extremely comforting. He smiled when he realised that he finally started to actually see the code on his screen again.
“We should get back to work,” Sherrinford said.
“Indeed,” Mycroft said. “And Sherrinford?”
“Yes?”
“Congratulations.”
Sherrinford smiled. “Thank you.”
Mycroft hung up without saying anything else. Sherrinford sat with the phone to his ear for another minute before putting it down. He straightened up in his chair and jumped to the beginning of his code. He might be the next Quartermaster, but as for now he was still just a hacker and a programmer and he thought that he might just have spotted the error in his code…