Agent Chetiri

Chapter 20

Author's Note: Again, this is another new addition so I hope you like it!

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The danger is that in this move toward new horizons and far directions, that I may lose what I have now, and not find anything except loneliness.

-Sylvia Plath

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(October 23, 2014- 12:45 PM)

Q walked up the steps of Mycroft's office on Downing Street, rain hitting the sides of his umbrella like bullets. He was not sure why his brother had summoned him, out of work, no less. Nevertheless, he assumed it was important and decided to come anyway.

Though the night had passed, the feeling of anger at Alexa still remained. He was a man that hated the feeling of being deceived (ironic, really, since his career was based on deception of others). The fact that she had slipped all of this by him without his knowledge greatly troubled (not to mention annoyed) him. It made him slightly insecure of his own abilities and also made him wonder how she could have pulled all of this off.

He shoved his hand in his coat pocket and pulled the door open. Q folded the umbrella and stowed it in the stand before walking inside the foyer. He received a nod from Anthea as he walked by and made his way into Mycroft's office. Q straightened his tie, after realizing it was still crooked, before pushing the door open.

"You never call me out this late. What is it this time?" Q said, shutting the door behind him.

"Alexa spoke with you last night, didn't she?" Mycroft said, without looking up from his paperwork.

Q froze at the sound of his question and he was unable to speak for several moments. Mycroft glanced up and cleared his throat, to recapture his brother's attention. "Well?" he drawled, standing up.

A look of realization came across Q's face before it contorted into one of anger. His breath hitched in his throat and he began to see that he had been deceived not by one, but by two people who were close to him. "It was you, wasn't it?" Q said accusingly. He marched up to Mycroft and leant over the desk, jabbing his finger in his chest.

"You were the one that helped her fake her death," he said. Mycroft nodded silently and Q glared at him. If looks could kill, Q would have certainly become an assassin by then.

"You did all of that and you still had the bollocks to lie to me about it," he snapped.

"It wasn't just you, Q. I had to lie to everyone else about it as well," Mycroft said.

"Bullshit! Someone else must have known. Who else, Anthea?" he replied, sounding exasperated.

"Actually, that's true. She did have a hand in the planning process," Mycroft mused.

"Is that why you had those 'brotherly' chats with me?" he said. Mycroft's eyes narrowed and he walked out from his desk.

"Q, that's not-" Mycroft began.

"Are you that big of an arse, to pretend to care after helping to fake the death of the one woman I actually truly fell in love with?" Q continued, with resentment laced in his voice.

"Sherrinford Holmes, for god's sake, listen to me!" Mycroft said sharply. At this, Q knew that Mycroft was setting himself up for a serious chat and decided to at least hear him out, no matter how angry he was.