#“we murder people like on a regular basis...i think we have bugger problems here”

[ethan-acfan]

My favorite thing in almost all timetravel fix-it desmond fics is when he casually mentions like "Oh, that guy is hot." And (depending on when he got sent back, I'm using ezio for this), ezio is like *gasp* "Did you just admit to... liking MEN?!" and desmond is just like "...we kill people Ezio😐. I think if they arrested me, it would be for the multiple acts of terriosm." It is so funny every time

[morganeuk]

The Doctor & the Librarian. (Sherlock AU)

Part 3: The British Government interferes

(Read Part 1: Kissing is not required on Tumblr)

(Read Part 2: Brainy is the new sexy on Tumblr)

Summary: Sherlock, academic librarian at Oxford, talked with an interesting doctor from London on the library help line... He don't know what to do next and founds it difficult to understand his feelings when his brother decides to visit him. But, thanks God, Lestrade gives him the occasion to escape the discussion!

It was early in the morning and Sherlock hadn't slept at all since he came back from the university. Usually, his thoughts are focused on a particularly hard research question or the creation of a complex database schema needed at work.  His job at Oxford, assisting creative and gifted researchers and professors, most of the time was rewarding, and it was easy to get immersed in an overload of projects. To banish the constant boredom, to avoid reaching for drugs as an easy answer

But as of last night, no need for external stimulation! His mind was focused on one thing only: Doctor John Watson.  When the doctor contacted the helpline three days ago, it was like if someone had thrown him a life jacket. Like he was finally able to fully absorb the oxygen around him! And it wasn't planned at all, a mere coincidence... Even if he does not like to work in the library, with regular ordinary people, he must do it when nobody else is available. Usually, his non-verbal attitude is clear enough that nobody asks questions, except the few giggling girls or cocky boys who ask if he wants to go for a beer after his shift, and he can work on his project. 

That night, to avoid a discussion with an insistent suitor that clearly not understand the meaning of 'bugger off', he uses the excuse of a call on the helpline. It was that or killing the stupid man in front of him! 'You're one hot librarian, I would like to check you out!' Come on! And what's with all the winking? Does he need an ophthalmologist? He's not supposed to reply to the helpline requests, the head librarian has received too many complaints about him, but it was an emergency!  

And his world has suddenly shifted because of one of Bart's finest: Dr John Watson.

Sherlock found his name less than five minutes after their first exchange. It was easy, a doctor, probably between thirty and forty-five, John, working in an ICU in London... but then at the end of the conversation he gives his real phone number! A phone number is as good as a social security number when you know where to look... Once his identity is clarified, more information appears. Ex-military, Afghanistan, unattached, a blog full of... emptiness. Probably an idea of his therapist. His life turning solely around his work. What's so special about him? That was the question that kept Sherlock awake all night. 

What's so special about him?

The log of the first and second conversations they had was printed in front of him.  He had to delete them from the system as it was too... personal. He read over the few times, adding them to his Mind Palace in a brand new room simply named: John. The will to help a patient that wasn't even his, the quirkiness of the discussion, the genuine amazement when he deduces him. He said that it was fantastic... Nobody has ever said things like that to me... His openness, the suggestion that they meet in London someday!

Sherlock was realistic and knew that the invitation was only made because of the excitement of discovering the disease he was looking for. He looks objectively at the transcript of the first conversation and nothing that he said could be considered the basis of romantic interest from the doctor. But... he came back! After 2 days of trying to forget the beautiful man, he finds pictures!, Sherlock begs for a night shift in the reading room. A few ridiculous questions later, including if it's best to sleep with her legs up while trying to conceive a baby; HIS doctor was there. To talk with him. Only to talk with HIM! He seems to understand the appeal of his job, was thankful for his help in solving his problem and was openly flirting. Openly, confidently, effectively flirting. Sherlock was lost for words and after he closes the chat window couldn't resist and... texts him his name.

His name, unique as it was, it was certain that John would be able to find him on the Internet (He knows he's the only Sherlock in the UK!). What should I do now? Should I contact him or let him take the first step? Maybe he won't like what he finds on the web? His brother regularly cleans his records to avoid any unsavoury surprises but a few of his articles are available in open access journals, his blogs about data mining and the science of deduction are accessible to all, but due to his brother's line of work, no pictures of him have ever stayed on the Internet more than a few hours.

Maybe I should send him a picture of me? Is this 'online dating'? How does it work? Oh God, this is killing me! It's Saturday, I don't go to work on Saturday... But I can't dream about this doctor all days! It's driving me mad! His phone rings on the coffee table and he jumps quickly to get it. If lucky, it's Lestrade with a murder investigation! Blah... It's only Mycroft. Ending the call, he opens the text app instead.

What do you want? -SH

You know I prefer to talk -MY

Yes -SH

So you're doing it on purpose only to annoy me. It's childish -MY

Sue me. What do you want? I don't have all day! -SH

As Sherlock was going in the kitchen to put the kettle on, someone knocks at the door.  For God sakes... "Go. Away!!"

The door opens and an impeccable Mycroft walks inside the small flat. "Good morning Brother mine." The imperious glare of the Government official surveys the room.  The few computers, print out of codes and parameters. Newspapers and journals everywhere. A pile of Lestrade's now resolved cold cases... "I can deliver those to NSY if you want, on my way back." The older Holmes proposes.

Sherlock, English to a fault, put a second teacup for his brother on the countertop. "What do you want, Mycroft? You're not in Oxford,  on a Saturday morning, for nothing."

"I'm only here because I care for you... and Mummy asked me to check on you." He shakes his head, thinking about their overprotective mother. "She's worried about you, constantly. Being all alone here." And so am I...

"You can tell her that I'm doing great. I haven't put anything 'recreational' in my body for nearly two years!" He drinks his tea with a stern look. "So you can leave now." He points his long fingers in the direction of the door.

"It's not the only thing I want to talk to you about..." Why is this always so complicated? "I know that you seem to love your job as a librarian, and though we were thrilled when you decided to finally do something with your chemistry degree and go on with a Masters in IS, I would like you to consider a position with me, in London." Sherlock was still listening, even if he did not acknowledge his brother's words. "Or if you don't want to work with me, I can arrange for you to become a full-time consultant with NSY." Still not a word from Sherlock... How can he waste his talents like this! It's not that what he is doing is unimportant, but someone else can do it.  Less effectively perhaps, but with similar results! "Sherlock! Say something!"

"Are you finished?" He rises from the chair he was sitting. "First of all, I don't seem to love my job, I really do love it. Second, I went back to complete my university for myself and not to 'thrill' anyone else.  Third,  I would never ever work under your orders. And lastly, I don't need you to coerce the NSY as Lestrade asks me regularly to come to work with him on cases more than I used to." He turns his back on his brother and simply states. "Now, leave."

Getting up and playing suavely with his umbrella, Mycroft can't restrain himself and replies softly, as an afterthought, "But in London, you may find interesting things... people..." He looks at his phone to confirm the name of the man. "A Doctor John Watson, for example."  He knows it is a cheap shot, but sometimes it's the only things that work! Something big is brewing and he needs his brother in London, whatever the cost.

"What are you talking about, brother mine?" Sherlock's voice was now cold as ice. "I know that you are checking on me nearly 24/7 but I don't understand how you could considerate that man, unknown to me, as  leverage to get me back in London."

"You're far too easy to read, Sherlock, sentiment... Always sentiment... You wrote to him about why you like your job, you falsely admit having ADHD instead of turning him off by announcing with a flourish that you're a high functioning sociopath." Mycroft's eyes locked on Sherlock's. "You voluntarily  went to work in the reading room, which you hate, in the hope he would contact you again." Knowing he was getting the upper hand of his younger brother, he concludes, "And you gave him your name and your phone number.  Tell me brother, how many phone numbers do you have in your directory? Besides our parents', Lestrade's and mine?"

Sherlock was looking at his brother with disgust. How can a man have any hope of getting a love life if the British Government interferes! His phone chimes, a text from Lestrade.

Are you available? I need help with something... - GL

The fake suicides? - SH

Yes... got another one. -GL

Giving his brother an unreadable smile, Sherlock gives him a cup of tea. "Wait for me while I'm getting dressed, I need a lift."

"I'm always happy to use my chauffeur as your cab driver... Where do you need to go?"

From the bathroom, Sherlock responses loudly, "London!"

With a satisfactory smirk, Mycroft Holmes considers once more how irreplaceable DI Gregory Lestrade is.

Read the rest of the story here! http://archiveofourown.org/series/770607