Work Text:
It's time.
For sure?
Yes.
How long?
Three days till end game.
I'll arrange everything.
Thank you.
Good luck.
Please be careful.
______________________________________
“Goodbye John.”
“No!” John shouts as he sits up in bed. He takes a deep breath. Christ. Every time. Every time he goes to sleep he sees it again. It's only been two weeks, but he has never been so sick of something in his entire life. Not even his damn psychosomatic limp.
He gets up and goes into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. Out of habit he grabs two mugs and has to put the other one back. A sob works itself up his throat.
“Fucking Moriarty,” John mutters as he waits.
He closes his eyes and sighs. He's going crazy. He really is. There is nothing to occupy his mind. It just keeps getting trapped in the same line of thought, the same nightmare that has been his life lately. Something else he hates.
He turns on the telly out of habit when he sits down in his chair. He flips through the channels, trying to find some crap telly that won't depress him. The news shows a segment of some crazy battle in America involving actual aliens. He huffs a sigh and keeps flipping. Americans.
Eventually he settles on reruns of Doctor Who. Somewhere between the TRADIS taking off again and saving another world, John falls asleep.
The next day he has a crick in his neck, but he can't find the energy to care. He gets dressed, makes tea and sits back in his chair. He has taken leave from surgery. Sure it would give him something to do, but he wouldn't be able to concentrate on it properly.
The day appears to be the same as every other day until Mycroft walks in.
“Ah Dr Watson. I am glad to see you are up.”
“What the hell do you want?!” John growls.
“Now Doctor, there is no need for violence.”
The glare John gives him resembles Sherlock's in every way. “What do you want?” he asks again, this time deadly calm.
“An offer.”
“What?”
“An assignment for you. To feel useful again.”
“A charity case. No. Get out.”
“Perhaps I should explain more. It is not mere charity. It is important and I feel that you are the best person to fill the position.”
“Not interested. Leave.”
“Not even if you can help care for someone else who needs you?” Mycroft inquires casually.
John snorts. “And who would that be?”
“The Avengers.”
“The Avengers?”
“The Avengers. I do not presume that you have heard of them. But perhaps you have heard of the battle that occurred recently. It has even managed to make the news here briefly. It would be the engagement with the aliens. Dreadfully messy business. During the fight, their handler was killed. They are in need of another. I thought you would be qualified, seeing how well you handled my brother.”
“No.”
“Come now Doctor. Be reasonable.”
John stares at him. “I don't have a choice in this, do I?”
“It would be easier if you agreed, certainly.”
John sighs. “There was a reason your brother hated you,” he mentions nonchalantly, “It's showing right now.”
“Indeed.” A barely detectable flinch. “I suggest you pack your bags. Rest assured that the rent will be taken care of while you are away. A car will be here in a half an hour. It has been nice talking to you Dr Watson, I'll see myself out.” He turns and leaves.
“Bloody Mycroft,” John says to the empty room. “Bloody, bloody bastard.”
________________________________________
“Captain Watson.” The man in front of him nods. John thinks he should be given an award in theatrics. He means- trench coat, all black clothes, eye patch. It's all a little too much. Aren't spies suppose to blend in? Especially the higher up ones?
Americans.
John doesn't bother correcting him on his title. “Director Fury.”
“Have you been briefed on your assignment?”
“Babysitting duty,” he replies dryly.
Fury smirks. “Best of luck. The last agent didn't stay too long.”
John nods.
A car takes him to Stark, now Avengers, Tower. “Subtle,” he comments.
The driver chuckles. “That's the boss for you.”
“Which one?”
“I work for Mr Stark. Happy Hogan,” he introduces himself.
“John Watson.”
Happy smiles. “I can't believe that they had to bring in a Brit to take care of them.”
“I'm well versed in dealing with difficult people.”
“You have a genius of your own?”
“Had,” he says shortly.
“Oh, I'm sorry.”
John shakes his head. “No, it's fine. It's only been a couple of weeks.”
“And they're calling you in?”
“Mmmhmm. Higher up thought meddling was a good idea.”
Happy nods thoughtfully.
The rest of the trip is spent in silence. When they arrive, Happy waves John off saying to don't worry about the bags and go ahead up.
He enters and steps into the elevator. It moves automatically, carrying him a very long way up. It stops at the seventieth floor and opens up to a large living room. Waiting for him are six different people. Of course he recognizes them from the files he read. Captain Rogers, who had been sitting, stands up when he enters. “Captain,” he salutes.
“Please, call me John. I've been discharged for years now. Besides we are the same rank Captain Rogers.”
“Steve, please.”
“Pleasure to meet you.”
Steve nods. “I assume you've been debriefed on the situation?”
“Yes.”
“And-”
“Alright, no boring questions. This is a 'no boring questions' zone. Besides Capsicle, you can't hog the new guys attention,” interrupts the most recognizable man of the group. “Didn't they teach you to share?”
“Tony,” scolds one of the red heads. She gets up and shakes his hand. “Virginia Potts, but call me Pepper. You'll have to excuse ninety five percent of what comes out of Tony's mouth.”
John smiles. “Don't worry, I'm use to it.”
“What? Pep, Pepper, honey bear, light of my life, how could you say something like that? After all we've been through?”
“Still, he really should learn some manners.” Pepper says over him with an eye roll.
“I don't think it's possible for them to have any,” John tells her thoughtfully.
Pepper pauses, then nods. “I think you may be right.”
The cropped haired blond snickers while Tony pouts. “Hawkeye aka Clint Barton.” He motions to the red head next to him. “Black Widow aka Natasha Romanov.”
“And Brucie!” Tony points to the last man. “The best science bro ever. But I don't recommend getting him angry. Or at least letting me know first. I haven't filled my quota of quality Hulk time this month.”
John blinks at him.
“What?”
“How have you gone through life without someone strangling you to shut you up?”
“They have. He's just annoyingly persistent,” comments Natasha.
“Hey! Pepper, she's being mean. Make her stop.” He crosses his arms and for a second all John can see is Sherlock after John told him he had to get rid of the hands in the refrigerator. He can't help the laughter. Once it starts it can't stop.
“Sorry, sorry,” he gasps as they look at him “just... been a long couple of weeks.”
Pepper pats his back. “Come, I'll show you to your room.”
'Room' ends up being an understatement. He has an entire floor to himself. Pepper tells him that this is standard for each Avenger. Tony has customized the others' and if he asks, he can have some changes made.
As he looks around, he thinks the offer is unnecessary. Even if he cared about that kind of thing, the flat is nice. If he didn't know better he would say it was already customized for him. But that would be paranoid. Wouldn't it?
Before she leaves, she introduces him to JARVIS. Because of course Tony Stark has a talking house. Why not?
He goes back to the common floor for supper.
“So where are you from?” Clint asks.
“London.”
“How'd you get stuck here then?”
“Meddling higher up.”
Tony snorts, but doesn't comment when John looks at him.
“Where were you stationed?” Steve asks next.
“In Afghanistan. I was on my third tour when I got shot.”
“It's always fucking Afghanistan,” Tony mutters.
“Cheers.” He nods at him.
“What did you do before this?” Clint cuts back in.
“Worked in a clinic.”
“Is that all? Seems dull.”
“Yes,” he bites out. He doesn't want to talk about Sherlock. He doesn't want to tell these people about his amazing best friend that no one but him believes in anymore. Doesn't know how to explain it in any case. And he most definitely does not want their pity.
“Sorry man.”
“No. Just had a problem recently is all.”
Clint nods and the conversation drifts to other topics.
That night John stares out at the unfamiliar city and aches. He misses London and the clouds and people and the flat, the sense of home. But he hasn't felt that since Sherlock jumped. A part of him died with him that day. It hurts worse than when he was shot in the shoulder. At least then it was a physical pain. This is a soul deep burning that never stops.
“Dr Watson.”
John jumps at the voice before remembering the AI. “Yes JARVIS?”
“If you are having trouble sleeping, may I suggest joining Dr Banner in the kitchen. He is currently in the process of making tea that I believe will be up to your standards.”
“Thank you JARVIS.” John debates for a moment before taking the AI's advice.
“Hello,” he greets.
Bruce nods. “Hello John. Tea?”
“Sure.”
The other man nods and takes out another mug.
“This is good,” he compliments after he takes a sip.
“Thank you,” he smiles. “It was one of my requests when I moved in. Tony may complain about my 'herbal crap' and 'blasphemy against the holiness that is coffee', but he did find what I wanted.”
John snorts. “I take it he drinks a bit of coffee then.”
Bruce echoes his snort. “According to Tony, coffee is another food group. It's terrible.”
“At least he's getting calories from somewhere.” Memories come back of trying desperately to get Sherlock to eat something, anything for Christ sake, even a biscuit.
“True, when that's all he has for days on end.”
“Oh?”
“Tony has a habit going into his workshop and not coming out for three days or more, forgetting everything- eating, sleeping, blinking. Just working. He gets so caught up in it it's like the rest of us don't exist.”
And John can't breath. He can't. It's too much.
“John?” Bruce asks, worried.
“Let me guess. He's a genius, his brain is always working. He can't stop thinking even if he wants to and it drives him crazy, but he can't stop. He can't stand boredom, will do anything to avoid it, including getting destructive. He's crazy, has the oddest quirks, most people can't stand him. But to those who stand by him, who earn his trust, it's the best thing in the world. It's like being in the presence of the sun, it's so brilliant. He'll do anything for you, protect you no matter what, even when you want to strangle the bloody bastard. Because he's a genius, but he's still so fucking stupid , no social skills, no real thought of others. But still your best friend ever.” A sob escapes.
Bruce rubs his back. “Yeah. That's Tony pretty much to a tea.”
John nods. “Fucking Mycroft,” he breathes as another sob comes. Bruce doesn't say anything as he continues, just stays as a steady presence.
“John,” he says after John stops, “I know you don't want to talk about it, but if you do, I'm willing to listen. And if you ever want company, no matter what time, either come here or the gym. One thing I learned in the last month is that we have to be the most insomniac group of people to live in one place.”
“Thank you.”
Bruce nods.
________________________________________
The next week is spent developing some semblance of a routine. Not a very good one, because it wasn't just Tony who had his quirks. All of them did. And none of them were shy about sharing them. He found ten knives in the wall in one day alone. Tony appeared at random times to refuel. Clint had a cutting, sarcastic sense of humor. Steve was almost OCD about his schedule of eating and training. Bruce was the most normal of all of them and sometimes you didn't even know he was in the room.
“I'm impressed,” Clint comments one day during a rare lunch they were all present for. And therefore all witnesses to Steve blowing up the microwave. “You didn't even flinch.”
“Should I?”
He shrugs. “You don't react to anything. It's kinda creepy.”
“This coming from the man who likes to jump out of air vents instead of using halls and doorways like normal people,” Tony adds dryly.
“I'm just saying, nothing phases him. It's weird man. It's like Phil...” Here he pauses, taking a deep breath, “Like Phil passed on his ability to you.”
“He was the handler who was killed, right?”
Clint nods, taking a moment to recompose. “But seriously, what is your trick?”
John shrugs. “Are you going to put eyeballs in the microwave? Fingers in the jam jar? A head in the refrigerator? Turn the kitchen into a lab? Play with dangerous chemicals next to the food? Walk around in just a sheet? Covered in blood with a harpoon? Wake me up at three in the morning to tell me something that really could wait until morning to hear? Be rude to every single person you meet because manners are boring? Never buy the milk even if you use it all somehow because it's definitely not by drinking it?”
“Ummm, no...” Clint blinks in confusion.
“Well then,” John says pointedly.
Tony, who had been chuckling during John's litany of questions, burst into laughter.
Everyone looks at him. “Eye... eyeballs... and sh...sheets,” he gasps out as an explanation.
John smiles. “Yeah.”
“And I'm the crazy one. Yeah.”
John looks at him sharply. “You know.” It's not a question.
Tony nods.
He pushes away from the table and walks out of the kitchen. In his room, John paces. He knows he shouldn't have left like that, but he couldn't help it. He doesn't want to think , let alone talk, about Sherlock. Not that he had been particularly successful, but still. He doesn't want to share Sherlock with someone who could never understand. He meant it when he said he was the most human person he knew.
But sometimes Tony reminded him so much about his mad genius. The little signs are everywhere. And John would give anything just to have him back. Friendship and codependency doesn't even begin to cover what they had.
That night he is sitting alone in the kitchen when Tony walks in.
“I know Sherlock,” he announces.
“Knew,” John corrects automatically before the words sink in. “What?”
Tony sighs. “He's going to kill me for this, but I don't care. If he has a problem with my methods he can damn well get help from Mycroft.”
“What?” John repeats, even more confused.
“Right, explanation time. Fun. Okay first off, I'm the one who requested you, not Fury or Mycroft. And it was ridiculously easy to make Mycroft think it was his idea too.” He laughs. “But this is the safest place for you, surrounded by five, six if Thor comes back, superheroes.”
“Safe from what?”
“Moriarty's web.” He runs a hand through his hair. “The day he jumped, there were three snipers fixed on you, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson. You would have been killed if he didn't jump. But he figured this out before hand and asked for my help. He plans on eliminating the web and therefore ensuring your safety. I, of course, plan on sending Natasha and Clint after some of these people.”
“Wait... Sherlock is alive?!”
“Yes. And frankly the man is a fucking mess. Dear god, the codependency you two have. I don't care how much he fucking denies it, he has it too. I can't tell you the number of times I've caught him talking to you.”
John doesn't reply, stuck on the same thought. Sherlock was alive. Sherlock was alive. Sherlock was alive and didn't tell him. “That fucking bastard,” he growls.
Tony nods. “I never claimed it was a good plan, But he did it to protect you. Surely you must know what you mean to him.”
“Oh I know, but the bloody idiot could have told me. Like you said, I surrounded by superheroes. Pretty bloody hard to touch me right now. And to go to you for help... No offense, but what the fuck?!”
“If it helps, I've known Sherlock since we were children. Mycroft too, but that can hardly be counted as a good thing. He was just as bad as a kid. Not that I'm much better, but...” He shrugs and then lets out a sigh. “Come on.” He grabs John wrist and pulls him to the elevator.
“Where are we going?”
“Sherlock.”
“He's here?”
“Been staying in my suite. Pacing like a maniac and muttering to himself. He's already taken care of a few of the members and figuring out where to strike next.” He pauses. “John, don't be too hard on him. He was terrified when he first contacted me. He can't stand the idea of you being killed. Remember that.” The doors open.
Inside is the most glorious sight John has ever seen. Inside is Sherlock, alive and whole and indeed acting like the madman John knows he is.
“Sherlock,” he breathes.
He jerks his head quickly to look over. “No...” He turns to Tony. “How dare you! You weren't suppose to tell him. You were suppose to protect him, not-”
“Oh no,” Tony stops him. “We are not doing this. Do you know why? Because I have been watching both of you be miserable without each other. It's ridiculous and stupid. I refuse to stand by and let it happen. And besides,” he adds as Sherlock opens his mouth, “it's not like I'm throwing him out or anything. I can still keep an eye on him. He is the only person who knows you're here besides me. You came to me for help. This is me helping. Your welcome.” He walks out.
“John,” Sherlock says.
“You mad idiot,” John says. He walks over to him and yanks him into a kiss. Sherlock's lips are soft against his. Softer than he imagined- and imagine he did. He pulls away. “You mad stupid bastard.” He kisses him again.
Sherlock moans softly. “John,” he breathes reverently.
“Sherlock,” John echoes.
It's several minutes before either say anything else, their mouths being otherwise occupied. John wraps his arms tightly around the detective. “Christ I missed you,” he whispers into Sherlock's shoulder.
“I as well. I... found my thought process dampened without you around. It was most inconvenient.”
John laughs. “I love you.”
“Obviously,” is the reply. But it is said with tenderness as well as exasperation.
John pokes him in the ribs. “Oi! You made me think you were dead for a month. The least you could do is say it properly, at least once.”
Sherlock sighs and presses his head against John's. “I am in love with you John Watson. You are my light in a dull, ordinary world.”
John smiles.
They stay like that for some time. “I'm curious. Tony said you two met as children. How?”
Sherlock chuckles. “He's my older half brother.”
“What!”
“Mmmhmm. Three years older than me and four years younger than Mycroft. Mummy was quite beautiful when she was younger and Howard was known for his wondering eyes. They met at a party and obviously more than eyes wandered. Nine months later, Howard demanded his heir and Mummy and Father agreed. He spent his summers with us until he was twelve. He and Mycroft never got on, but we did and we always kept in touch. It's both family's best kept secret.”
John laughs somewhat helplessly.
Sherlock raises an eyebrow.
“It's just... oh god, there are more of you!”
“Indeed,” Sherlock smirks, “but obviously I am the best of the three.”
“Bastard.” John pulls Sherlock over to the couch and settles himself firmly against the detective. “So what now?”
“Now I continue the work I set out to do- take down Moriarty's web. I imagine I will be doing much less field work than originally planned- obviously Tony plans on using the two assassins, I don't understand why he thinks I don't know about that part of the plan. You will continue to be the Avengers,” here he makes a face, “handler. I also imagine you will want to help as well. In the meantime I will monopolize all of the time you are not babysitting. When this is over we will flee for London because at that point I will be sick of my brother for a while and you will either love him or want to strangle him- I am aware of the family resemblance.”
“Afraid I'll leave you for him?” John jokes.
Sherlock rolls his eyes. “Don't be ridiculous John, obviously I'm the better looking one.”
John just snorts. “Bastard,” he mutters with a smile and pulls him in for another kiss.
________________________________________
“Sir, Agent Romanov has arrived,” JARVIS says as Tony is bent over some circuity in his workshop.
“Thanks J, let her in.”
“You wanted to see me?” she asks coolly, an eyebrow raised.
“Yes. Do you trust me?”
She gives a curt nod.
“How many questions would you ask if I give you a list people that need to be eliminated and ask you to do it?”
“Are these people a danger to you?”
“Not personally, but... my family.”
“Then none.”
“How much digging will you do?”
She smirks.
Tony sighs. “Right, okay,” he flips a wrench at her “You cannot repeat this conversation to anyone. Do you understand? Anyone. Not even Barton. You need his help, you tell me before you talk to him.”
Natasha gives him a long analyzing look before she nods.
“Right. Have you heard of Moriarty?”
She crosses her arms. “He is a crime lord of the Western world. Possibly more. SHIELD has a file on him.”
Tony snorts. “ Possibly more? Well that answers that question.”
She tilts her head in inquiry.
“He has have Agents in SHIELD. Trust that file now? Anything else?”
“He has an unnatural obsession with a man named Sherlock Holmes. Recent evidence has shown that he may be a fraud and inve-”
“Wrong,” Tony stops her, his tone as cold as ice. “Moriarty is not an invention. He is very very real, clever, dangerous, ruthless and, as of now, very dead. His reach is not only the Western world. His web touches everywhere.”
Natasha is fighting to keep any emotion from her face, but her surprise and curiosity can't be suppressed that much. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” He glares at her defiantly.
“How long have you known him?”
“Are you going to tell anyone? I'm serious about SHIELD being compromised. There is a very good reason I insist on this secrecy.”
“Clint.”
“Fine, pass it on to Katniss. Make sure he keeps his mouth about this. Anyone else?”
“No.”
“Great. I've known him since birth basically. If you do any digging be careful or you may end up having a talk with Mycroft. And that's enough to ruin anyone's day. Especially since he doesn't know what I'm doing and I want to keep it that way.”
Natasha continues to stare at him.
“Oh no, you do not look at me like that. I don't care how good you think you are. Mycroft will catch you if you are not careful. What you are trying to find is beyond classified. It is also beyond Fort Knox secure. You don't need to know it for this mission so just rein in that curiosity in.”
She doesn't say anything.
“Do you like John?” Tony asks, changing tactics.
“He is a sweet man.”
He snorts a laugh. “Jumpers, jam and rage. And he didn't believe me when I told him. Well,” he says, “he is in danger. If the wrong information gets out, John, the sweetest landlady you will ever meet and a good Detective Inspector of New Scotland Yard will be killed. They have already been targeted. There are lives, innocent lives , are at stake here and I'll be damned before any of them are harmed,” he growls.
“Moriarty threatened your family. ”
“Yes,” he says with a straight face.
She nods. “Do you have the list?”
“I will in a couple of days.”
“Location?”
Tony snorts. “I told you, his web spreads everywhere. Think of it as a world tour. You'll have a profile with the list.”
Natasha gives a final nod and turns to leave.
“Thank you,” Tony says lowly when she is in the doorway.
She acknowledges it and closes the door behind her.
He lets out a breath. “Well that was fun. Hey J, is it safe to go tell Sherlock about this or should I wait?”
“Dr Watson and Mr Holmes are decent,” JARVIS replies dryly, “they are working out the final details of the list. I would advise waiting until they are finished before interrupting them.”
Tony nods and goes back to his circuits, running numbers and scenarios in his head. He may not be a genius in everything, but he does have a knack for strategies, even if he doesn't show it. It's simple numbers- with the benefit of having Mycroft Holmes as your older brother. Have to annoy him somehow and frogs in his bed will no longer do.
“Sir,” JARVIS says, bringing Tony out of his musing some time later. “Mr Holmes says that the list is ready.”
“Already? Great. I take it they're still on John's floor?”
“Yes Sir.”
Tony nods and heads to the elevator. “I come to learn Oh Great One,” he announces on entering the room.
John snorts. “Oh god, don't inflate in ego any more, it'll never fit in this room!”
“Really John, you claim I'm the dramatic one and then you say things like that. Be more consistent with your assertions.”
“You are and I am. It's obviously a side effect of being around too many Holmes'. I can't escape.”
“An unfortunate side effect indeed,” Tony adds helpfully. “But there's no help for it. We're just that irresistible. Right brother?” He throws an arm around Sherlock.
“Two out of three are.”
Tony nods seriously. “Very true.”
“You two don't get along either, huh?” John asks. “Don't know why I'm surprised. It's not like he's going to win anyone over with that stunning personality of his.”
“He was always like that, even when we were kids. I think he was born with a stick up his ass actually.”
John laughs, a bit helplessly. “I can only imagine the family dinners.”
Both Sherlock and Tony grimace.
“Yes, that's something we won't be repeating.”
“Agreed.” Sherlock then hands Tony the tablet.
“Thanks.” He begins to scroll through it. “Romanov knows and so will Barton when she tells him.”
Sherlock nods. “I anticipated at least some of your team mates finding out.”
“Hmmmm, yeah. None of the others should figure it out unless you tell them if you want to join us. I do trust them, you know.” Sherlock is silent. “And they've grown fond of John,” he shrugs “Open invitation.” He gets up. “Now if you excuse me, I have information to pass on.”
Tony leaves John's floor and goes to Natasha's. “Knock knock spidey, I have a present. Oh, Legolas is here too, great. Here.” He tosses the tablet to the two Agents.
Natasha immediately starts to read.
Clint looks Tony over. “Are there any more of you we should know about? Because I have to say, it's scary that there are other people out there who share your genes.”
“Technically only half my genes.”
Clint waves him off. “Doesn't matter, you share genes with Mycroft Holmes . I'm sorry man, but your brother is creepy as fuck. ”
“No arguments there. My always was a bit controlling.”
“ My? You call one of the most influential people in the world by a nickname? ”
“He insists on calling me Anthony. Besides, this is nothing, you should have heard him and Sherlock. Talk about an amusing bloodbath.”
“No thanks man, I like my head right where it is.”
Tony shrugs, “Your loss. So ninja lady, what's the conclusion?”
“About a year and a half, maybe more. Less than two for sure.”
“And you wouldn't have any problems?”
“No.”
“Right. Great. You also need to avoid Mycroft too. He can't know what's going on.”
“Why?” Clint asks.
“Because I don't want him sticking his fat nose in where it doesn't belong.”
“And...?”
“And you don't need to know.” Tony crosses his arms as Clint gets a mischievous look in his eyes.
“I'm serious Barton. Behave or no new toys.”
“What? Oh come on.”
“Thems the breaks.”
“Meanie,” Clint pouts.
Tony gives him a shit eating grins, and with an ironic salute walks out of the room and heads to the workshop. One step down, six more to go.
Now to convince Sherlock to meet the rest of the team- if only to see the looks on their faces.
________________________________________
“Johnnnn,” Sherlock gives a drawn out whine.
“ Sherlock, ” John returns. “Come on, it's just the rest of the team- you know, the group of superheroes we have been living with for the past six months. It doesn't get much safer than that. Plus the only two SHIELD Agents have already proven trustworthy. Don't you want to see the looks on their faces?” he asks temptingly.
Sherlock makes a face. “What has my brother bribed you with to make you go along with his plan?” he asks sourly.
“What makes you think Tony has anything to do with this?” John attempts to look innocent when he asks.
Sherlock just gives him a look.
The Doctor laughs. “Alright, yes, Tony recruited me. That doesn't mean I am going to tell you with what. I will say though,” he adds thoughtfully, “Tony is much better with bribes than Mycroft.”
“That's because Tony does not kidnap the person he is attempting to bribe. He has at least learned that that is counter productive.”
“Over protectiveness runs in the family too, huh?”
“Do be quiet John, you are not helping your case.”
John smirks and goes to press himself against the detective. “I can think of something very effective to help my case,” he purrs, having picked up that trick from Sherlock.
Sherlock lifts an eyebrow. “Indeed?”
“Indeed.”
________________________________________
In the end Sherlock is persuaded and they go down to the common room for the weekly movie night the team has. When they walk in, hand and hand, the team, with the exception of Tony and Natasha, freeze. There is a moment of silence, and then-
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Clint exclaims. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? How the hell are you alive? You were suppose to have jumped off a fucking roof man.” Clint flails a bit, expressing his disbelief vividly.
Natasha smacks him on the head.
“Hey! What was that for Tasha?”
“Rudeness.”
Bruce and Steve just stare in confusion and Tony grins. “Lock!” he calls out happily, “Johnny finally got him to come down. Awesome, come help me pick apart the latest Star Trek movie, it's ridiculous.”
“Ummm...” Steve starts, “are we allowed to ask what's going on?”
“The man who jumped off a fucking roof is alive, that's what's going on. I swear to god if Mycroft appears from nowhere, I'm out.”
“You've obviously had the displeasure of meeting my brother, my condolences,” Sherlock says, clearly amused.
“Yeah and he's creepy as fuck .”
Natasha hits Clint again.
Tony beams. “Guys, this is Sherlock Holmes. He had an insane master crime lord after him, but he's dead now so Lock is hiding out here till we dismantle the psycho's web. Any rumors of his death have been greatly exaggerated. And dear god Barton, if My does show up, I'm right there with you.”
“I'm still confused,” Steve admits.
“Don't worry Steve,” John assures him, “just Google my name. The internet is littered with the story – most shite, but the basics are there.”
“Not going to tell him about your blog?” Sherlock drawls.
“Well normally I would, but since you love it so much, I'd thought I'd mention it later,” John grins.
Sherlock rolls his eyes. “ Please, as if that won't be the first thing that pops up on the search.
“Oh you know that you're secretly flattered. After all, what is a genius without an audience?”
“Pedestrian attention at best, hardly worth noticing.”
“Right Your Highness, next time I shall have a hand delivered copy to the Queen, shall I? Perhaps on a silver platter? That way she came reward you with that Knighthood Mycroft always threatens you with?” he asks sweetly.
“You're a Knight?” Steve asks.
“Over my dead body,” is Sherlock's scowling reply.
Bruce, who had been quiet until now, starts to laugh.
The others all look at him. “And we all wondered why John was never bothered by any of us,” he explains in amusement, “It would appear he has had practice.”
John smirks. “I knew there was a reason you were my favorite.”
Sherlock pouts at that while Tony cries “That's my line! You can't have my science bro.”
John smiles and pulls Sherlock over to the couch. “Now I believe someone said something about Star Trek?”
“Yea! J, action.”
“At least it's not that Fond fellow,” Sherlock mutters.
“ Bond, Sherlock, it's James Bond. ” John corrects in amusement.
Sherlock merely rolls his eyes and mutters about 'waste of space'.
As they settle down to watch the movie – Sherlock and Tony instantly analyzing it, Bruce joining in occasionally, Steve trying to figure out the plot, Clint making smart remarks and Natasha periodically hitting him for them – John thinks that thinks things didn't turn out so bad after all.
Just as long as his mad bastard didn't pull something like this again, that is. Then he'd kill him himself.