Chapter Text
The Holmes family mansion was just as James expected it would be; smaller than his own family home, but very large nonetheless. The gardens were green and well-kept, and the stone of the house was obviously old but very well maintained. The whole place reeked of old money. He pulled the car up outside the large wooden doors, just as a young man slipped out in a sharp suit, marching over. He pulled open Q’s door, smiling politely.
“Master Holmes.”
Q smiled, patting the man on the shoulder. “Nice to see you again, Will.”
‘Will’ smiled even wider, turning to Bond who’d just climbed out of his side. “Would sir like me to park his car?”
Bond looked to Q, who just nodded. Bond shrugged, tossing the keys over and making his way around. Another man in a suit was making his way down the steps, over to the couple. Q grinned, walking over to embrace the older man.
“Stanley!”
“Young Felix, how are we?”
“Very good, this is my partner, James Bond.”
Bond smiled politely, offering his hand for the man to shake. Stanley smiled, shaking it firmly before turning back to Q.
“Your mother is waiting for you in the parlour, Will and I shall take your bags up to your room.”
“Thank you. Come along, James.”
James followed Q into the house, letting him take his coat and hang it by the door. The house was just as grand inside as it was outside, very rich coloured drapes and carpets, expensive hardwood flooring. Q led Bond through the house until they reached the parlour; a wide, bright room, full of expensive looking furniture and one wall of windows. A woman was sat at a table, staring out of the window, stirring her tea, almost wistfully.
“Good afternoon, mother.”
The woman spun around, a large smile spread across her face as she pulled herself from her seat. She looked a lot younger than she was; her loose blonde curls bouncing as she made her way towards them, blue eyes wide and happy as she enveloped Q into a hug, making quiet happy noises.
“Lovely to have you home, Felix, it’s been much too long… And is this James? Mycroft said you’d be bringing someone.”
Q smiled as he pulled away, motioning to Bond. “Yes, this is James Bond.”
Mrs Holmes reached out, gripping Bond’s chin between her long fingers, pulling his face this way and that to get a good look at him. “My, he’s handsome, isn’t he.”
Q blushed slightly, smiling shyly at Bond, who just smirked back. “He is.”
“A very defined look about him. Nice suit, neat hair — unlike yours, when are you getting it cut, Felix?”
“I’ll have it cut when I get back to London,” Q sighed. “You’ve yet to see Sherlock’s hair, though.”
“I’ll tell him off when he gets here. Now, James, tell me, what do you do?”
Mrs Holmes hooked her arm through Bond’s leading him over to the table, sitting him beside her and pouring a cup of tea. Q smiled, watching Bond blossom under his mother’s positive attention, feeding her all the right lines. Letting out a content sigh, he wandered over to the table himself, sitting and pouring some tea. His mother continued to bombard James with questions about his work and Q, and he continued to appease her with the right answers, not letting her know how dangerous his job truly was. Obviously not a part of the conversation, Q pulled his phone from his pocket, typing up some of the things that had been on his mind on the drive up.
“Felix, none of your gadgets at the table, please.”
Q sighed, rolling his eyes going to put the phone back in his pocket, planning on pulling it out again after five minutes, but concealing it under the table. Before he could, Bond snatched it from his hand, sliding the back open and taking the battery, handing the phone back to Q.
“He’ll just be on it again in five minutes,” Bond smiled. Mrs Holmes laughed, gently resting her hand on Bond’s arm. Q huffed quietly, folding his arms over his chest, watching his boyfriend quickly become the favourite.
It was just before tea-time that Sherlock and John arrived, squabbling down the corridor to the parlour. Mrs Holmes stood, ready to greet them when they entered. Q discreetly tried to lift his battery from Bond’s pocket whilst he watched Sherlock be showered in affection, but to no avail. Bond’s strong hand wrapped around his wrist.
“If I have to deal with your family, you can too.”
Q glared. “I’ve had to deal with them for twenty-four years. Five days isn’t going to kill you.”
Bond stood, pulling Q with him as they made their way over to Sherlock and John, John currently being given a tight hug from Mrs Holmes. Sherlock gave Q and Bond an icy stare.
“Felix. James.”
Q smirked, amused by Sherlock’s obvious discomfort at being home. “Nice of you to make it, Sherlock.”
“Well, I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Mummy ignoring us in favour of our guests, it may actually be the most agreeable Christmas yet. Mycroft’s bringing someone, did he mention?”
“No he didn’t.”
“He wouldn’t tell me who.”
“What, and you couldn’t deduce who it was?”
Sherlock shifted uneasily. “He told me in a text. Not much I can deduce from a text, Felix.”
“No, no, we just live together!”
Everyone turned to look at John, who was a little red in the face. Mrs Holmes just smiled and gave him a pat on the shoulder.
“This isn’t the 50’s any more, John, there’s no shame in it. I’m certainly not bothered; look, Felix brought his darling boyfriend!”
John let out a long sigh. “I know there’s no shame but… I’m not… We’re not!”
“Oh, you can’t fool me.”
“It’s easier to just agree with her,” Q smirked, slipping his hand into Bond’s. John sighed, his shoulders slumping forward. Sherlock suddenly snapped his fingers, spinning on his heel.
“Fresh pot of tea please, Stanley; come along John.”
Mrs Holmes sighed as John extracted himself from her grip, following Sherlock to the table. Q gave his mother a sad smile.
“He’s still an arse, mother.”
Mrs Holmes tutted, shooting her youngest an disapproving look. “Language Felix. But yes; still an arse. Takes after his father, God rest his soul.”
“Mycroft’s not improved either.”
“And you’re still an insufferable know-it-all, I presume?”
“Oh the worst,” Bond laughed, slinging his arm around Q’s shoulders. Mrs Holmes smiled brilliantly, hooking her arm through Bond’s again.
“You, Mr Bond, are very charming. I do hope Felix decides to keep you.”
—
James sat with John in the corner, drinking tea quietly whilst Mrs Holmes spoke with her sons, chuckling when they heard either of them being chastised.
“So what’s yours like?”
Bond looked up at John curiously. “Excuse me?”
“Your Holmes; Felix. I’ve only met him a handful of times.”
Bond shrugged, looking down into his tea. “He’s… smart. I mean, I’m smart but he’s-“
“Genius. They’re all genius’.”
“He’s very snarky-“
“So’s Sherlock.”
“He’s… a solitary creature really.”
“You get the feeling he’s just letting you be around him out of the goodness of his heart?”
Bond nodded, letting out a quiet hum. “Tell me, John; are you sure you’re not involved with Sherlock?”
“No. We’re not. I’m not gay and he’s not… anything. I mean, even if I wanted to — which I don’t, but if I did… he wouldn’t. The first time we met he told me he considered himself to his work.”
“I consider myself married to my work. So does Q.”
John frowned. “Q is… Felix?”
“Yes, his work title; code-name.”
“Oh… So how do you and he manage? I mean, you must have long work hours? Dangerous missions?”
Bond let out a sigh, taking a sip of his tea. “To use a cliché we just take it one day at a time. I’m not sure how we make things work, but we do…”
John smiled sadly. “I suppose it makes you appreciate each day you’re together.”
“We do… So… Tell me about Sherlock. What does he do?”
“He’s a consulting detective. A freelance. He hires out his services a genius who solves crimes, to explain it on its simplest level.”
“Ah. And you? You help him?”
“Sometimes. He needs a doctor sometimes to help diagnose.”
The two sat discussing themselves and their lives with their respective Holmes; how infuriating they could be, their bad habits, and their first meeting with Mycroft.
“He kidnapped you?!” Bond laughed, putting his tea on the table to stop him spilling it over his trousers.
“Took me to a warehouse, offered me money to spy on him and report back.”
“And you didn’t?”
“Well obviously I regret it now, it was a lot of money” John laughed. “But at the time, living with Sherlock, being his partner, it was all very exciting, and I needed excitement. And I didn’t really want to betray him…”
“And now, not so much?”
“Tell you what, you live with Sherlock for a week, you might just appreciate the fact you got the normal one.”
“Normal my arse.”
John chuckled. “Compared to Sherlock and Mycroft? Most definitely.”
—
Staying with the Holmes’ wasn’t too strange for Bond to handle, aside from waking up to Sherlock’s face in his own — Sherlock was lucky Bond didn’t have a gun within reach. Bond sat up in bed, breathing heavy and clutching his chest, Sherlock cocked his head to the side, staring at Bond analytically.
“I was wondering why you favoured your left side, a bullet wound to the right shoulder was my second guess.”
Bond glared, rubbing a hand over his face. “What the bloody Hell is wrong with you?!”
Q lifted his head sleepily, glancing over to Sherlock through heavy eyelids. “Sherlock, be a dear and fuck off.”
Sherlock huffed indignantly, standing up straight. “Rude,” he grumbled, before walking out of the room. Q let out a quiet snort, reaching over to grab Bond’s arm and draping it over his waist.
“Come back to sleep.”
“Five more minutes,” Bond mumbled, trying to get comfy again. Despite Q’s soft breathing and steady heart-beat, Bond found it hard to get back to sleep, fearing Sherlock would sneak into the room and invade his privacy, taking swabs of his feet or something equally horrifying. After he was sure Q was heavily asleep, he carefully extracted himself from the bed and shuffled through to the bathroom; not expecting to find Sherlock staring at his bottle of aftershave.
“Oh for God’s sake.”
Sherlock looked up, looking as if he belonged completely in Q’s private bathroom. “You do know this contains corrosive chemicals? No wonder your skin looks so worn.”
Ignoring him, Bond snatched the aftershave from the detective’s fingers and grabbed him by the shoulders, shoving him from the bathroom, locking the door behind him.
“Rude!”
Bond rolled his eyes and got himself ready for the day, wondering how John possibly lives with the madman. Dressed and feeling a little more awake, Bond made his way downstairs, unimpressed that Sherlock was the first person he ran in to.
“Breakfast is held in the kitchen, down that corridor,” Sherlock said, his eyes narrowing. “You heeded my warning and are wearing less aftershave.”
Bond rolled his eyes, beginning to walk to where Sherlock had said the kitchen was. “I just didn’t see the need to tart up, it’s only breakfast.”
“Mummy very much likes you, you know,” Sherlock continued, walking in step with Bond. James nodded.
“Well that’s good.”
“You didn’t tell her your official position within MI-6. She thinks you’re just another desk jockey.”
Bond shrugged. “Does she need to know that I’m going getting myself shot at by various terrorists in various countries?”
“I’m sure she’d like to know just what her youngest has gotten himself involved in. She worries.”
“Felix is a big boy.”
Sherlock’s lips twisted into what Bond assumed was supposed to be a smirk. “You still don’t take his name seriously. You don’t call him Felix at home, do you.”
“Code-names are assigned for a reason.”
“By not calling him by his given name, you’re disassociating him with any life he may have outside of MI-6 and you. You don’t like the idea he has a separate life.”
Bond rolled his eyes. “It’s for his safety. People find out he’s Felix Holmes, they find out he has two brothers, they find out he has a mother. Or as they’re more likely to see it, leverage. We take people’s safety very seriously at MI-6, especially someone as important as Q.”
“Felix.”
Bond glared. “Q. People like Q are indispensable, we need him.”
“I always knew his smarts were going to get him trouble.”
“You don’t like me, do you Sherlock?”
Sherlock shrugged, pushing the kitchen door open. “Don’t take it personal, I don’t like anyone.”
“You like John.”
“John’s likeable. He’s interesting”
Bond smirked. “So am I. You don’t think I’m good enough for Q.”
“You don’t even call him by his name, of course I don’t… Neither does Mycroft, by the way. He’ll never say anything, though, he knows how much you mean to Felix.”
“So why can’t you stick your nose out? It’s not like you ever see each other.”
“Are you accusing me of not caring? About my own brother?”
“You tried to lobotomise him.”
“I was thirteen.”
They stood sharing angry looks, fists clenched at their sides when someone else entered the kitchen.
“Good morning, boys, lovely day outside.”
Sherlock’s face instantly dissolved into a smile as he went to greet his mother; Bond smirked, watching how quickly Sherlock could slip on the charm, just like him. Mrs Holmes greeted James too, before guiding both men to the kitchen table.
“Mycroft’s arriving today. Have you met Mycroft, James?”
Bond nodded, helping himself to some coffee. “I have.”
“Wonderful, isn’t he.”
“Positively charming, a genetic trait I see.”
Mrs Bond laughed, resting her hand on James’ arm. “Oh James!”
Bond smirked, winking at Sherlock when he noticed the detective was glaring daggers at him. Sherlock cleared his throat, reaching out to take his mother’s wrist to get her attention.
“So Mummy, what do you think of John?”
“Oh he’s lovely, Sherlock. And a doctor, you’re very lucky to have found him.”
Sherlock smiled sweetly. “I am. Did I mention he fought in the war? He was an army doctor.”
Mrs Bond gasped, a wide smile on her face. “How brave!”
Sherlock shot James a smug grin; Bond rolled his eyes, not too bothered about competing with Sherlock for “most impressive boyfriend”. Mrs Holmes quickly pulled herself up, shuffling over to grab the teapot.
“At what point are you going to tell her you and John aren’t actually seeing each other?”
Sherlock glared. “Shut up, Bond. It’s none of your business.”
“Lying to your own dear mother, shameful.”
“You lie to her.”
“She’s not my mother.”
“What are we talking about?” Mrs Holmes smiled, sitting herself back down. Bond smiled back, standing up.
“Nothing important. I’m going to wake Felix, I’ll get in trouble if I don’t wake him before ten.”
Mrs Holmes smiled, turning back to Sherlock as Bond wandered out of the kitchen, back up the room he was sharing with Q. He plopped himself down on the bed, the force of it rocking the bed and waking Q. He groaned, lifting his head and running a sleepy hand through his hair.
“James?”
“You were right, Sherlock is a complete arse.”
Q smirked, shuffling over and collapsing down across Bond’s chest. “I told you. What’s he said?”
“He doesn’t like me.”
“He doesn’t like anyone.”
“He doesn’t think I’m good enough for you.”
Q yawned, snaking his arms around Bond’s waist. “Neither does Mycroft. He won’t tell me but he thinks I don’t know him after all this time? I don’t care what they think, James. For a while Sherlock refused to speak to me for taking the job at MI-6; Mycroft tried to talk me out of it. They’re fickle. They’ll never like any lover of mine.”
James nodded, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Q’s head. “Did you know Sherlock is actually the one telling your mother he and John are in a relationship?”
Q snorted out a laugh, lifting his head. “Really? Someone should really tell John.”
“I’d be honoured to be the one to break the news.”
“We told you not to take anything Sherlock says to heart.”
Bond shrugged. “I’m not… He’s still a twat.”
“Oh most definitely. He’ll only get worse when Mycroft gets here.”
—
Mycroft didn’t arrive until late afternoon, alone. He embraced his mother, giving her a quick peck on the cheek before giving both Q and Sherlock a pat on the back and a stiff smile.
“I’m sorry I’m so late, some work came up. And speaking of work, my guest won’t arrive until tomorrow, couldn’t get out of work early.”
Sherlock folded his arms over his chest. “And you couldn’t pull strings?”
“One day won’t hurt, Sherlock. Some people have real jobs.”
“I have a real job.”
“Oh please, consulting detective, it hardly pays the bills!”
“The bills are paid, thank you very much.”
Q gave James an “I told you so” look, taking his arm and leading him through to the parlour. He, James and John sat on the sofa, watching Mycroft and Sherlock squabble whilst Mrs Holmes organised some tea.
“Are they really always like this?” James asked, staring blankly at the brothers.
“Definitely,” Q and John said in unison, already bored by the argument. Mrs Holmes finally placed the tray of tea on the table between the sofas, pushing her hands into her hips.
“Boys, that’s enough of that, please! Mycroft, come sit here with me, tell me everything you’ve been up to.”
Mycroft sat next to his mother, taking her hands in his as he began telling her about the drive up. Sherlock looked at the sofa where the other three men were sat, glaring at the lack of space for him to sit. Bond smirked, grabbing Q by his hips and pulling him onto his lap with a quiet yelp of surprise from the smaller man.
“There you go.”
Still glaring, Sherlock sat in the vacated space. “How tactful of you.”
“You can sit on the floor if you like,” John chastised. Sherlock rolled his eyes, folding his arms over his chest, diverting his glare over to his older brother.
“You could have warned me,” Q mumbled, resting his head against Bond’s. James smiled, pressing a quick kiss to the side of Q’s neck.
“But then I wouldn’t have heard that lovely noise you made.”
Sherlock scoffed next to him. “Save it for the bedroom, please.”
—
The the rest of the day, Bond tried his best to avoid Sherlock, sequestering himself away in corners with Q or John, only coming out when Mrs Holmes insisted he go talk with her. Dinners were awkward, Sherlock sniping with anyone that opened their mouth. His stay was quickly transforming his opinions on Q, thankful that as bad as he ever got, he’d never be as bad as his brother. At least Q only snarked at him when he deserved it, and he never used his intelligence to make him feel like an idiot. He also began to feel incredibly sorry for John.
“How do you live with him? Honestly?”
John laughed into his drink, shrugging his shoulders. “I suppose he’s not really that bad. You get used to him. And he just doesn’t like you. Plus family gatherings stress him out.”
James gave John a blank stare, unamused. “Not that bad? Really?”
“Most of the time he just tells me to shut up, nothing like he’s doing to you. He’s not that hard to live with. Just make sure he’s entertained. I think he’s just bored, really.”
“And how does one entertain Sherlock?”
“Finding him a suspicious dead body usually does the trick. He has a collection of mould samples… in the fridge.”
Bond’s eyes widened. “Excuse me, in the fridge?! And you live with him?!”
“Trust me, it’s a one up from the severed head.”
“…Mycroft was right, you’re not sane at all.”
John laughed, giving James a pat on the shoulder. “You get used to it.”
Their conversation was interrupted by Sherlock storming over, grabbing John by the arm and dragging him away, offering no explanation as to why. Smirking, James made his way over to where Q was explaining aspects of his job to his mother and Mycroft, slipping his arm around his waist. Q shot him a quick smile, continuing explaining.
“So this guest of yours, Mycroft, are they a… romantic partner?” Mrs Holmes asked once Q had finished. A slight flush of pink filled Mycroft’s cheeks as he nodded.
“Yes. I suppose it’s early days yet, but things are going well.”
Q smirked. “Well done, Mycroft. Someone who can put up with you for long periods of time?”
“Do be quiet, Felix.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry. I’ll go share the good news with Sherlock.”
Q made a move to go over to where Sherlock was stood glaring at the room before Mycroft grabbed his arm.
“Don’t you dare.”
“Boys,” Mrs Holmes warned. Both Holmes’ muttered an apology and looked at their feet.