Chapter Text
On Christmas Eve, Mrs Holmes had a party planned, eager to show off how grown up her boys were and the lovely men they had on their arms. Bundled up in his wool coat and scarf, Bond took a walk around the grounds with Q to avoid Sherlock. Despite his many layers of a cardigan, jumper, and coat, including gloves and a scarf, Q was still shivering on his arm, teeth chattering every now and then.
“You didn’t have to join me,” James smiled, stopping walking to wrap his arms around Q. Q just smiled up at him, huddling up to his lover.
“Didn’t want you to get lost. Didn’t want to have to send Sherlock after you.”
“How is he in social situations?”
“Bloody awful. But at least there will be other people for him to irritate. I think Mother intends on showing you off the most, you know, working for MI-6, you’re all posh and distinguished… No offence to John at all but… You’re better than him.”
Bond laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of Q’s head. “You’re sure this isn’t just your favouritism?”
“Not at all. John has a very wonderful taste in knitwear.”
“But a very bad taste in men.”
“Most certainly.”
Bond pulled Q’s face up to look at him, smiling at his rosy cheeks and red nose. Q smiled up at him, circling his arms around Bond’s torso, pulling him closer.
“You’re so wonderful,” Bond murmured, his nose brushing against Q’s. Q’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink, his eyes looking anywhere but at Bond’s.
“No need to flatter me, Bond, I’m already in love with you.”
Bond smiled widely, brushing his thumb against Q’s cheek. “I’m in love with you too.”
“That’s… That’s good to know.”
Letting out a quiet chuckle, Bond pulled Q’s face closer, capturing his lips with his own. Q hummed happily, fisting his gloved hands in James’ coat. Bond smiled into the kiss, holding Q closer against his body, their lips moving together, Bond’s tongue licking at the seam of Q’s lips.
“Must you do that where everyone can see?!”
Q and Bond pulled away, looking towards the house. Even from where they were stood they could see Sherlock had a very unhappy look on his face, his arms folded over his chest as he glared from a first-storey balcony.
“Why don’t you go away then?!” Bond shouted back.
“I live here, you insufferable prat!”
Q sighed, pulling away from Bond. “Come on, he’s not going to leave.”
Bond sighed too, taking Q’s hand and leading him back up to the house. “The sooner he and John start shagging the better.”
Q laughed, leaning in to Bond, forcing him to drape his arm over his shoulders instead. “You think Sherlock’s only shouting at us because he’s frustrated?”
“Of course, you see it all the time in normal people. He thinks he’s a third wheel to our relationship, when really if he just looked around he’d notice John’s there ready and waiting.”
“But John’s not gay.”
“He can say what he wants, the truth is he really wants to get in Sherlock’s pants. I read people for a living Q, I can see this stuff a mile away.”
“Perhaps we should get them drunk tonight. Strategically place mistletoe around the place.”
Bond smiled, pressing his face into Q’s messy hair. “Sounds like a plan.”
Inside the house, the place was chaos. Caterers were running around, decorators were running round, there was suddenly a massive Christmas tree in the lobby with people decorating it. Mrs Holmes was stood in front of the tree, shouting orders at the people decorating, only stopping to sign clipboards men thrust at her. She grinned when she saw Q and Bond motioning them over.
“What do you think of the tree, darlings?”
Q smiled, wrapping his scarf around his hand. “Bigger than last year, have we got enough tinsel?”
“Of course, we bought boxes of it.”
“Mother, do we have any mistletoe?”
Mrs Holmes stopped grinning at the tree and turned to her youngest. “I’m sure we do, what do you need it for?”
“Coercion, mainly. James and I wish to give Sherlock and John a reason to kiss in front of us all.”
Mrs Holmes hummed happily. “Of course, dear. I wish they were more forthcoming with their relationship. Go find Stanley, I’m sure he’ll find it for you.”
Bond smirked, following Q up to their room to shed their winter-wear. Q dropped himself down on the edge of the bed, staring up at Bond as he fixed his shirt cuffs. Bond smiled back, straightening his clothes before stepping forward between Q’s thighs.
“We’re finally alone,” he smirked, pushing gently on Q’s shoulders. Q smirked, letting himself be pushed down to the bed.
“For now. Once Sherlock realises we’re here you can guarantee he’ll interrupt.”
“Let’s make the most of this then.”
Bond crawled on top of him, pushing their lips together messily, wasting no time in sliding his chilled hand up Q’s shirt. Q moaned, trying to arch his body away from Bond’s cold touch. Bond smirked, reaching up to pull Q’s glasses from his face with his other hand, placing them carefully well away from them on the bed. They kissing quickly heated up, both men eager to peel the other from their clothing.
—
Having located Stanley and the mistletoe, Bond and Q stood in the middle of the hall where the party was being held, deciding on where it should be stuck. Whilst pointing out corners Sherlock might hide out in later on, Sherlock marched into the hall, straight over to the couple. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped, looking over the two sceptically.
“You had sex,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. Q rolled his eyes, turning back to the corner he’d been looking at.
“It’s no business of yours what James and I get up to.”
“You had sex! With Mummy just downstairs!”
“I’m not getting into this with you, Sherlock.”
Sherlock glared. “I find it hard to digest that you would do such a thing.”
“Perhaps if you had a sex-life of your own you wouldn’t be so jealous of mine. Now did you actually have something to say?”
Sherlock just scoffed and stormed away; James snorted, slipping his arms around Q’s waist.
“I hope this plan works, or else your brother’s going to explode.”
“I know. I bet you he’s gone to tell on me. Probably to Mycroft, I can’t see mother being too horrified.”
“Really?”
Q shrugged, slipping from James’ grip and walking over to the corner. Bond smirked, trailing after him, trying not to bump into any of the decorators rushing around. A few moments later, John wandered into the hall, looking around before spotting Bond and Q, walking over.
“Sherlock requested I tell you that your mother wishes to hold a quick meet and greet before the party. To introduce everybody important… Also, what did you do to him?”
“We had sex,” James sighed, sitting himself down in one of the chairs pushed to the side. John stared between them before shrugging.
“Okay then… Wait, you had sex here?”
“In our room, we’re not perverts,” Q said, looking around the room some more.
“But here, in the house?”
James frowned, steepling his fingers. “Shouldn’t we have?”
“Well no, it’s just… With all these people around?”
“Is it really a problem? We’re not idiots, we know how to not get caught.”
“Yes, of course. Sorry, it’s none of my business really… I’ll be going.”
John quickly turned on his heel and hurried from the hall, James looked up at Q curiously, a hint of a smirk on his lips. Q rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair.
“Well, I can’t say I was expecting that.”
Bond chuckled, reaching out to take Q’s hands, pulling him closer. “It’ll be forgotten soon. Have you decided where to hang the mistletoe?”
Q nodded, pulling Bond to his feet, excitedly beginning to explain his plans. James just smiled, slipping an arm around Q’s waist, watching all of his facial expressions and nervous movements.
An hour before the party started, Mrs Holmes had everyone gathered in the parlour to go over party etiquette, scowling at Sherlock in particular. Bond just smiled contently, already knowing how to work the crowd of any party, rubbing his thumb across the pulse-point of Q’s wrist. Stanley suddenly appeared in the doorway, clearing his throat. Mrs Holmes stopped talking smiling over at him.
“Yes?”
“Mycroft’s guest has arrived, Ma’am.”
Mrs Holmes grinned, jumping to her feet. “Marvellous! Show him in!”
Mycroft had a nervous edge to him as he pulled himself up from his seat, slowly making his way to the door. Footsteps could be heard coming closer, Stanley held the door open as Mycroft’s guest walked in.
“Lestrade?!”
Everyone looked over to John and Sherlock, and the horrified looks on their faces. Lestrade smiled sheepishly, giving the two men a shy wave.
“Hello boys.”
Mrs Holmes’ grin grew even wider. “You know each other?!”
“He’s a D.I. in Scotland Yard, they frequently hire Sherlock and John for some of their cases,” Mycroft explained.
“A policeman, wonderful!”
Sherlock marched up to where Lestrade stood awkwardly, staring at him analytically. “What are you doing here, Lestrade?”
“Mycroft invited me.”
“Yes but why? It’s not as if you’re of any importance to him.”
“On the contrary,” Mycroft interjected, stepping closer to Lestrade, gently curling his fingers around his wrist. “Gregory and I have been seeing each other for some time.”
John finally pulled himself up, going to stand beside Sherlock. “Wait, you’re seeing Mycroft?! Why didn’t you say?! How did you even meet?!”
Q and Bond sat back, watching everything in front of them, a little confused. Lestrade shrugged, a sheepish grin still on his face.
“I couldn’t really find a way to tell you, I always thought I’d leave it up to Mycroft. And we met somewhat… unconventionally.”
“He kidnapped you, didn’t he,” John sighed. Lestrade nodded, sending a little smirk Mycroft’s way.
“He wanted to know the extent of my involvement with Sherlock and then… asked me to dinner.”
“And you said yes to this maniac?!” Sherlock demanded.
“Now steady on, Sherlock, he’s not that bad.”
“My brother kidnaps you and you agree to dinner with him?! And you wonder why I constantly question your incompetence?!”
Mrs Holmes sighed, giving Lestrade a small pat on the shoulder before tottering over to Q and Bond, perching herself on the edge of the sofa. “Let’s leave them to it, shall we?”
“Hold on a minute, I thought you were married!” John said, folding his arms over his chest, mirroring Sherlock’s stance. Lestrade shrugged.
“We split.”
“And you’re suddenly… gay?!”
“Oh everything’s always so black and white with you, John. Obviously Lestrade had some latent homosexual qualities to him and it took my brother to bring them out,” Sherlock snapped. “It’s all very common. Take James for example, straight man turned gay at the sight of Felix!”
Bond’s head snapped up, glaring over in Sherlock’s direction. “When did I ever hint at being straight?!”
“Shut up! As for you, Watson, everyone knows you’re not as straight as you make out you are. Now if you’ll excuse me, this has gotten very boring.”
Sherlock stomped out of the room, leaving everyone in a dazed silence. Mrs Holmes pulled herself up, tutting quietly.
“He’ll be sulking in his bedroom, I’ll go see to him. Mycroft, introduce your wonderful gentleman to your other brother, won’t you?”
Mycroft forced a smile, nodding. “Of course, Mummy. Gregory, this is Felix, the youngest of Sherlock and I. And his gentleman lover, James Bond.”
Felix and James stood up to greet Lestrade, shaking his hand. Greg smiled politely, taking a quick look around.
“Mycroft never mentioned he had another brother, then again after Sherlock I can see why he wouldn’t like to admit to having more family.”
Q chuckled humourlessly, leaning into James. “I’m not as bad as Sherlock, I assure you. And I don’t see much of my brothers, I probably slipped his mind.”
“So… What do you do?”
“We both — James and I — work for MI-6. It’s all very top secret, there’s not much we can tell you, I’m afraid.”
Lestrade’s eyes widened, a small grin appearing on his face. “MI-6?! Wow! Like, spies and that sort of thing?!”
Q nodded, smirking up at Bond. Mycroft huffed out a dramatic sigh.
“Stop showing off, Felix. MI-6 isn’t that impressive.”
“Don’t worry about me stealing your boyfriend, Mycroft. I’m not swapping James for anyone.”
Lestrade turned to Mycroft, frowning slightly. “MI-6 isn’t that impressive?! Didn’t you hear about the incident where their headquarters blew up?!”
Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Yes, I am a member of the Government, Gregory, I hear about these things.”
“It was some ex spy, wasn’t it? Angry at the head of your organisation for something… Not that I should know but… sometimes these things get out.”
Bond’s lips thinned, trying not to get annoyed at the mention of that particular case. “Yes, well. I got him in the end.”
Lestrade’s eyes widened. “That was you?! You’re a spy?!”
“Yes. Agent double-oh-seven. I was assigned that particular case. In fact it was the first Q and I worked together.”
“…Who’s Q?”
“I’m Q,” Q smiled. “It stands for Quartermaster. I’m in charge of technology, weapons, vehicles, that kind of thing. I made him a gun and he fed it to a komodo dragon.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Bond sighed. Mycroft began tugging on Lestrade’s arm, trying to pull him away.
“Come on, it’s about time we got ready for the party. You did bring your suit?”
Lestrade sighed, letting himself be pulled away. “Of course I did.”
Q smirked up at Bond, slipping his arms around his waist. “Well, I think he’s thoroughly impressed.”
“It’s just your brothers I appear to be incapable of impressing.”
“Sod what they think. I love you, Mother loves you, everyone else will love you.”
Bond smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to Q’s lips. “Anyway, your brother raises an excellent point. Shall we go get ready?”
“Yes, it may take me some time to get my suit on. It’s been a while.”
Bond and Q hurried up to their room, less than an hour to get ready. Under the pretence of saving time and water, they showered together, inadvertently taking twice as long as they would if they’d showered individually, too busy trailing fingers over wet skin, and kissing until their mouths filled from the water falling around them. Once they’d stumbled out of the shower and gotten dry, they set about getting dressed.
Their suits were hung up in the wardrobe; simple black numbers, tailored to perfection, as James wouldn’t have it any other way. Bond slipped on his shirt and then trousers, tucking the shirt in neatly, hardly rumpling it at all, before picking up his waistcoat. Q watched him intently, always having loved watching Bond get dressed into his suits.
“Come on, Q. Don’t want to be late.”
Q nodded, hastily pulling on his trousers and shirt, pausing to watch Bond smooth out the fabric of his waistcoat, checking there were no creases. He was soon dressed before Q had finished buttoning his shirt. Smiling adoringly, he stepped up to Q, helping him get dressed; clicking his suspenders into place, tying his bow-tie whilst Q buttoned his waistcoat.
“All this fuss. Seems so silly.”
Bond smiled, flattening down Q’s collar. “It’s a party, Q, and people dress up for parties.”
“It’s all so much. I always hated mother’s parties.”
“If it’s any consolation you look simply… delectable. If we had the time I’d have you on that bed right now.”
Q blushed, looking around for his jacket. “Honestly, James, you need to start thinking more with your upstairs brain.”
Bond smirked, slipping his arms around Q’s waist, pulling their bodies flush together. “My upstairs brain completely agrees with whatever my downstairs brain has to say.”
“Of course it does,” Q sighed, rolling his eyes. “Can you pass me my jacket?”
Bond handed Q his jacket, before going over to his bag, pulling out a small box. “I got you something, by the way… A sort of early Christmas present.”
Q stared over at Bond, watching him walk back over, holding out the box.
“You’ll still get your proper present tomorrow, but this was… well… for tonight.”
Q took the box, gingerly opening it. Inside lay a pair of silver cufflinks shaped like Q’s.
“White gold — real white gold. If they’re not to your taste you can always attach lasers to them when we get back to headquarters.”
Q laughed, pulling James into a tight hug. “They’re perfect, James. Although I will probably be spending most of the night explaining them.”
“Conversation starter,” James smirked, pressing a quick kiss to Q’s lips before taking the box back.
“I don’t want a conversation starter. I don’t want to talk to anyone.”
He held out his arms, letting Bond thread the cufflinks through the holes on his shirt.
“It’s a party, Q. you have to talk to people.”
“Not if I skulk about in the corner, I don’t.”
“Come on, stop sulking. We have that meet and greet to go to.”
Q sighed, quickly checking his appearance in the mirror. “Of course. Are you ready then?”
The meet and greet wasn’t as bad as Bond expected it to be; Mrs Holmes hung off his arm, introducing him to various people as “Felix’s charming young man”, leaving them to chat whilst she went and introduced John to someone. Mycroft, Sherlock, and Q milled about together, ignored by most people who were busy fawning over their partners.
The party finally got started and whilst Bond was paraded around to all the other guests, Q got started on ‘Operation: Get Sherlock and John drunk enough to snog under the mistletoe’. James met some nice people whilst being ferried around, dancing with wives and daughters before finally being left to his own devices. He quickly attached himself to Q’s side.
“How’s everything going?”
“Two vodka martinis in both of them, so far so good.”
“Fantastic. How long until drunk?”
“Well, I know for a fact Sherlock has a surprisingly high alcohol tolerance, John I’m not sure. But vodka should do the trick. We just want them to lose their inhibitions around each other, not streak through the house.”
“Hello boys, thought I’d join you for a chat.”
Q and James looked up, Lestrade awkwardly shifting from foot to foot, looking significantly smarter in his suit. Q smiled, shifting to a better position to include him.
“Lestrade.”
“Please, Greg. Sherlock calls me Lestrade. Worked together over five years and he had no idea I was called Greg.”
Q chuckled, slipping his arm through James. “He’s an insufferable git, he really is.”
“I know, but he’s the best.”
“So uh… what do you think of him and John?”
“Are you asking me if I think anything’s… going on?”
“Essentially, yes.”
Greg smirked, taking a quick glance over to where Sherlock was sat, glaring at John as he mingled. “I think there is… something. I just don’t think they know about it, you know? Sherlock’s very possessive of John, hates to share him. Whenever John gets a girlfriend Sherlock always gets… well, angsty. And as for John, he can harp on all he wants about not being gay, he’s definitely holding a torch for Sherlock.”
Q smirked. “Very good. James and I have a plan to get them drunk and to kiss under the mistletoe, are you in?”
“Oh most definitely!”
“Fantastic. Anything vodka, try not to water it down. With the three of us now it should happen quicker than expected.”
Whilst slowly pedaling John and Sherlock with drinks, Bond forced Q to mingle with the guests, keeping his arm firmly around his waist to anchor him by his side. They danced to a few slow numbers, their bodies pressed together as they shuffled slowly around other dancing couples, earning themselves a few adoring looks from people. They had their photo taken by several people, one person shouted that Bond tip Q and kiss him, which Bond did without warning Q first, earning his a slap on the shoulder. They mingled some more until Lestrade quickly hopped over to them, Mycroft hanging on to his arm.
“I’d say John is suitably pissed.”
James, Q, and Mycroft looked over to where John was giggling inanely with one of the guests, an empty glass in his hand. Q smirked, glancing over to where Sherlock was being forced to talk to someone.
“I’d say Sherlock’s not too far behind. Several more drinks maybe.”
Mycroft sighed disapprovingly. “It’s not going to work, Felix.”
“Of course it will.”
“Sherlock won’t lose sense of what’s happening.”
Q rolled his eyes. “John is plastered and obviously has feelings for Sherlock, we make them share one small kiss under the mistletoe and that’s the catalyst we need. Sherlock will be begging for more by the time the party’s over.”
“I think you underestimate our brother’s level head.”
“I think you underestimate how much Sherlock needs to get laid.”
Lestrade chuckled. “He’s right, Mycroft. Perhaps once it’s all over Sherlock won’t be such a crabby git all the time.”
Mycroft rolled his eyes, leading Lestrade away. Several drinks later and Sherlock was surprisingly pliant, letting Bond shove him down into a chair to calm down without any derogatory comment. A few moments later, Lestrade helped John over, sitting him beside Sherlock.
“You two need to just sober up before you can rejoin us normal people,” Greg sighed, trying his best not to smirk. Sherlock rolled his eyes, slipping down in his seat.
“Perhaps if you didn’t keep forcing drinks in my hand.”
Mycroft appeared at Lestrade’s sighed, feigning mild annoyance. “Are the children in their naughty corner?”
“Indeed they are.”
Q suddenly appeared too, a smirk on his face. “You do know you’re sat under mistletoe, right? Come on, you know the rules.”
Sherlock looked up and scowled at the plant hanging above his head. “Honestly? Was this your plan all along?”
“It worked,” Bond smirked.
“Of course it didn’t! And I’m not-”
“Oh come on, Sherlock, be a sport!” John grinned, before grabbing his face and mashing their lips together. Sherlock let out a surprised grunt, his hands flailing at his sides as John moved their lips together. Q and Lestrade tried their best to restrain their sniggers, watching the spectacle in front of them. Sherlock’s hands finally found John’s front, grabbing his jacket collar and forcing their mouths apart. They were flushed red and spit-slick; John had a dazed look on his face as he stared at Sherlock.
“That was… um… quite agreeable,” Sherlock muttered, clearing his throat. A small grin slowly spread across John’s lips, his hands reaching up to curl around Sherlock’s.
“Yeah?
“Yes. Could we-”
He was cut off again as John pulled Sherlock in for another kiss, fingers tangling in each other’s clothes and hair.
“This is where we take our leave,” Bond mumbled, pulling Q away. Mycroft pulled Lestrade away too, over to Mrs Holmes, pointing out John and Sherlock making out like teenagers in the corner.
—
The next morning, Bond woke with only a mild hangover, Q sprawled on the bed next to him, dead to the world. Bond smiled, softly tracing his fingers down the dip of Q’s spine, watching him squirm at the touch. His hair was messier than usual, curls of dark hair covering his face which was smushed into the pillow. Pressing a trail of warm kisses down Q’s back, Bond delicately slid from the bed and padded through to the bathroom, first checking the coast was clear of any Sherlocks.
When he emerged from his shower, Q had woken up, sitting up in bed, looking around sleepily, one hand lost in his hair. James smiled, walking over to his side of the bed and perching on the edge, leaning over to give his sleepy lover a quick peck on the lips.
“Morning.”
Q smiled meekly, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. “Good morning. Did I really drink so much last night?”
“Not as much as John or Sherlock,” Bond chuckled. Q smiled, reaching for his glasses.
“Well there’s always that… Are you ready for a Holmes family Christmas?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be. You go grab a shower.”
Q nodded, sliding out of bed and staggering over to the bathroom, having to stop and start and hold on to the doorframe to stop himself keeling over. Bond smiled, wondering if he should help him find his bearings.
They were both soon ready and joined everyone else who was awake downstairs in the kitchen, helping themselves to the lavish spread set out for breakfast. Mycroft was pouring Lestrade a cup of tea, smiling at him admiringly, even though he had butter on his face. James pulled out a chair for Q, Q smiling up at him as he sat himself down.
“Just Sherlock and John to go,” Lestrade smirked. Q let out a quiet chuckle, reaching for the tea.
“I do hope all went well.”
“I’d like to put a wager on that they slept in the same bed last night,” Mycroft grinned, wiping away the fleck of butter from Lestrade’s upper lip with his hanky.
“Bit of a pointless wager, we all think the same,” Bond smirked, reaching for the coffee. Mycroft hummed, taking a rather large bite of his toast. A while later both Sherlock and John appeared in the kitchen, everyone pointedly not looking at the distinct bruise on Sherlock’s neck.
“Good night, boys?” Lestrade asked. John looked up at Lestrade through tired eyes and glared, obvious sporting a hangover from Hell.
“One assumes,” Sherlock sighed, plonking himself down beside John. “That waking up with no clothes on with someone else present in your bed, that a good night was indeed had.”
“Oh really? So what happened?” Mycroft smirked. Sherlock rolled his eyes, reaching for the tea.
“I can’t remember. And even if I could I wouldn’t tell you.”
“So that lovebite just appeared?”
“Of course not, you’re all aware of the events that transpired between John and me last night. We’re just not sure to what level they progressed.”
“Surely you could deduce,” Q chuckled.
“Of course, but it’s hardly fitting breakfast conversation, don’t you think.”
“So uh… where do you and John stand now? I mean… are you… together?” Lestrade asked, lacing his fingers together on the table. Sherlock glanced over to John, letting out a quiet sigh.
“Sherlock and I have decided to… see where this new relationship takes us. Seeing as our attraction was obvious to everyone around us, we see no point in playing this silly game any longer,” John replied, finally reaching for some food.
“Well, it’s about time,” Mycroft smiled. “Never again will we have to sit through the God awful sexual tension you two radiate. I suppose this is a Christmas miracle.”
Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Forever the idiot, Mycroft.”
Q nodded. “It more was like a Christmas inevitability.”