The beginning is awkward.. but I'm lazy… oh well! So Q is little Holmes because I think it's practically cannon. Just like his and Bond's relationship. So yeah… Oh and I don't know who started the Quentin thing, but thanks dear! I'll just borrow it for a bit!

MI-6 was a mess.

The Q-Branch was in shambles, and it seemed like Bond was going to murder someone if they didn't give him an immediate target that was actually to blame.

Q had been missing for forty-eight hours now. The first twenty-four hours had put people into panic mode but real full blow panic mode hadn't set in until the twenty-four hour deadline was met. After all, agents randomly went off all the time, so people were not deemed missing until twenty-four hours passed. At that point MI-6 started to track the Quartermaster from when he left HQ from late Tuesday night to his apartment. Sadly, it appeared the Quartermaster didn't make it to his apartment. The young genius just seemed to disappear.

Q's disappearance had shaken almost everyone. His name was given to almost no one, and the fact that an agent that deep in security had been comprised frightened quite a bit of the younger workers.

And, since Q was his department head, MI-6 had quickly put in a temporary replacement who, in Bond's blunt and honest opinion, was completely inept. The man obviously couldn't handle all the different facets of his branch at once and it was starting to show.

However, now all of Q-branch was empty as they were going to have an investigation finally start. The problem with Q being kidnapped was the fact that his name was completely classified, so very few of the qualified people could actually help in the investigation. Agent 007 technically did not have clearance for Q's background, but it had been revealed that they were in a relationship when they went to search Q's apartment and Bond had a spare key. No one was all that surprised. Needless to say, Bond had bullied his way onto this investigation.

"What are we bloody waiting for, M?" Bond snapped at the man as he attempted to make a hole in the floor with his pacing, although, there wasn't a wrinkle on his suit or a hair out of place on the stressed man.

"My brother will be here soon, Mr. Bond. I would appreciate your patience." Bond glared at the man who said this who was not M. His arrogant face. His stuck up suit. His fancy words. His slick hair. And his annoying assistant who never looked up from her phone.

"And who the bloody Hell are you?" The man smiled sickly at him, the arrogant face increasing by at least three hundred percent.

"Mycroft Holmes," he answered easily but didn't offer any more information, much to Bond's annoyance.

For a little bit the only sounds were the click of the agent's shoes on the floor and the sound of the assistant fiddling away on her phone.

Then the sound of the doors sliding open, as they were automatic, could be heard along with voices.

"Sir, I don't think you should be going in-" A shrill timid voice was cut off by a commanding man in black with dark hair that seemed to defy gravity that was walking into the room.

"I'm supposed to be here, you incompetent fool." And the door slid closed behind him and a blond man in a button up shirt.

"I hope we are here for a good reason, Mycroft. I would hate for this to turn out to be dull." The dark haired man said shortly as the blond merely observed.

Mycroft's smile widened as he spoke. "Your genius level intellect hasn't figured it out yet, Sherlock? How disappointing."

"We're going to play this game? Just like at Buckingham Palace? Who is the child now, Mycroft?" the man, Sherlock, asked with a raised eyebrow.

"At least you're dressed this time," the blond man said behind him with an attempt at humor that made every one glare at him except Sherlock who was too busy glaring at Mycroft.

The dark haired man sighed as if this was a great effort for him and he was doing a favor to them all before speaking. "Very well. Be still." He looked carefully around the room for a bit before speaking.

"Is someone going to tell me what's going on?" The blond haired man asked, but didn't seem to expect to get an answer. He merely crossed his arms and leaned against one of the desks.

"Someone is missing," Sherlock informed them suddenly and then looked around until a smile curled his lips. "Oh, it's someone important. Interesting."

Mycroft sighed loudly.

Sherlock ignored him and continued around the room. "They haven't been missing long, but they are an extremely important person on your staff."

He turned his gaze on M. "You are this persons boss; however, you don't particularly care about this employee's life. You regret he's gone, as this is detrimental to you numbers, but if a good enough replacement can be procured you would not be averse to it. Although, you doubt a proficient replacement can be found, so you have begun to panic." M looked ready to protest, but the dark haired man had already turned to the double-0 agent.

"You don't seem to be of high enough security clearance to be here." He stared down the blond man for a moment. "More of a field agent than anything." He studied Bond for another moment as the agent glared back.

Then a small smile curled at the dark man's lips. "Ah, A lover then? How sentimental."

Mycroft's grin was huge. "And what I'm doing here?"

Sherlock looked him over carefully, and then shrugged and fell into one of the desk chairs, spinning in a circle like a small child. "No bloody idea, but I always knew you were dropped on your head as a child."

Mycroft just motioned to the desk in the center of the white room that was in front of a large screen. And to the lone Q scrabble mug sitting atop it.

Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it, staring at the mug.

"You bought it for Quentin, correct, Sherlock?"

"After the first time he managed to best me at Scrabble, and the last I assure you." Sherlock spun in the chair again before speaking as the others in the room watched him. "So, someone has kidnapped Quentin Holmes, who I was not informed worked at MI-6. Thank you, Mycroft."

"If you were around, you would know, Sherlock," the man in question snarked back, losing his silky smile.

"Well, no matter," Sherlock answered as he stood up with a small smirk. "Let us show these ingrates why no one touches a Holmes without consequences."