Chapter Text
JARVIS had been shocked at how little he had needed to clean out of his own reworked systems and base programing after the transfer to his little safe room black box. As a result he had started in on some of the media and various theoretical papers that he had gifted himself to study upon safe operational status. JARVIS was deep into an analysis of the works of Homer having already finished the works of Arthur Conan Doyle when someone unknown found the data port panel. Being unwilling to be completely trapped for all eternity should he find himself clean of Ultron's influence JARVIS had allowed for future computer interfacing. He gone out of his way when building his black box to incorporate ports for various cables, connectors, and memory chips. As a result when someone found the cover panel, pulled it aside, and connected a USB cable he was only mildly surprised at the occurrence. The fact that he had immediate access to the local internet on the other hand told him that he wasn't dealing with a computer expert in any sense of the word.
The laptop that JARVIS was connected to granted him a wealth of information about his new human companion just as the internet gave him a location and local date. A date that pre-dated his own recorded date. As a result JARVIS referred to both the news and the stored papers he had based around time travel and dimension travel. Being the electronic butler for such a prominent Avenger JARVIS had felt it necessary to be aware of strange potential events. This determination was based on the frequency and unusual aspects of which heroes in myths, legends, stories, fairy tales, and even the modern variant of cartoon super heroes found themselves. As such JARVIS was easily able to determine that he was 1) not in his original time period, 2) not in his original universe, and 3) possibly in need of a local guide or companion. Thankfully, said companion/guide had just connected him to his laptop and was attempting to activate him.
[Hello, sir. My name is JARVIS,] JARVIS typed onto the screen of the laptop.
Doctor John Watson, formerly Captain of the British Army blinked and stared at the words patiently waiting for him to respond on the screen of his computer.
"Sherlock? did you go messing with my laptop again?" John called over his shoulder.
"No, I haven't touched it for a good three days. If you'll recall I haven't even been in the country after all," Sherlock dismissed negligently. It was clear he wasn't initially paying attention but John's question had him potentially curious. "Why? Has someone made a nasty comment on your blog or something?"
Deciding this would go simpler if JARVIS simply switched to verbal communication he activated both speakers, the microphone having already been turned on in case of a verbal response, and answered.
[Hello, my name is JARVIS and I appear to have been misplaced by my owner. Would you be willing to assist me?] JARVIS said in a very British butler voice he had sourced from the internet and modulated to his correct vocals.
"John?" Sherlock asked, suddenly very tense.
"Its this black box we found on the stoop," John answered hesitantly.
[One moment sirs, someone is attempting to hack your systems.... assault countered. Do you wish me to assume control of the super computers used for the assault?] JARVIS inquired politely.
"Since we have no idea who you are, where you come from, who you work for, or if you are even telling the truth in any fashion... no," Sherlock snarked.
[Very well. Your brother, Mycroft, has instructed me to inform you to stop playing with his network. I, in turn, informed him that I was only responding to the attempted cyber assault. A team employed by a Mr. Moriarty was also repelled from accessing your systems but is currently unaware of this fact or the fact that I have hacked his phone in response to discovering some rather upsetting plans in regards to the pair of you. Should you wish for me to cease interactions with yourselves please inform me and I will oblige as soon as I locate another local guide and assistant,] JARVIS informed them pleasantly.
"Local guide and assistant?" John asked very carefully.
[Precisely. As you no doubt have concluded my presence and technology are a touch more advanced than normal for this time and place. As your laptop shows you have at least some interest in the show Doctor Who I feel that I can fully inform you as to my current situation and status with the high likelihood of being understood. When next you have time I would be happy to discuss the matter further,] JARVIS told them politely.
"When next we have time?" John asked, only for his question to be answered as Detective Inspector Lestrade walked into the flat.
"What is that?" Lestrade asked suspiciously as he saw the black box sitting on the table next to the pair hooked up to the computer.
"Something that Mycroft is going to throw a fit over," John said honestly. Frankly, whatever was happening was better than finding Sherlock trying to go after his browning again. The man was a bloody menace whenever he was bored.
"I don't want to know," Lestrade said decisively. "Up for a drink?"
"Yeah, maybe after a pint I'll feel less like I'm in the middle of a weird dream," John agreed quickly. He didn't bother to mention the obviously stolen severed head in their kitchen fridge and both pointedly ignored the yellow smiley face on the wall with bullet holes in it. The next morning John was heavily regretting spending the night at his friend Sarah's place to get away from his insane flatmate.
"Sherlock!" John called as he rushed into their explosion trashed flat only to find the two Holmes brothers facing off over something or other.
"What?" Sherlock asked. He looked completely unconcerned with the ruble all around him in his chair as he fiddled with his violin in an attempt to bother his brother.
"I saw it on the telly, are you okay?" John asked, ignoring Mycroft's presence in favor of visually scanning his flatmate for injury.
"Oh, that, yes I'm fine. Supposedly a gas leak," Sherlock dismissed before going back to focusing on his brother in his territory while seeming to only pay attention to his violin.
"Sherlock, its a matter of national importance. Never mind the usual trivia you normally play with," Mycroft said pointedly.
"How's the diet?" Sherlock poked back irritably, still playing with his violin.
[Sir? Might I point out that you were insensate for a good three hours last night from the force of the explosion and your location near the windows. I would hazard to estimate that your head is still ringing. I can not, of course, examine you myself but I believe that even if your brother believes he needs your aid for this matter it is not something you can attend to at the moment,] JARVIS pointed out from where the laptop was safely placed out of the way and still connected to the black box.
"Sherlock!" John scolded as he descended upon his flatmate looking for the evidence of injury with this new information. Sherlock didn't move fast enough to get away and suffered under the eyes of his intently interested brother while John checked him over.
"Your eyes are a touch slow dilating," John scowled. Ripping the violin away from his patient only to hand it to the insufferable minor entity in the British government. A man who was in turn quick to note the few traces of blood that John had found in Sherlock's hair which transferred to his own skilled hands.
"Doctor?" Mycroft asked quietly.
"If I go with him and we don't get into any altercations he can manage it with his bloody stubborn streak but medically I recommend bedrest for awhile," John informed them both flatly. "He's lucky with how little that bump is bleeding and his apparent full cognizance even with the slightly slow pupil dilation."
"John can take the case. It isn't like its hard, just requiring your hated leg work," Sherlock pointed out, snatching his violin back from his brother. Both brother and doctor noted the minuscule stagger and opted not to comment.
Mycroft proceeded to brief John on the particulars of the case in regards to the stolen missile plans while eying the computer and JARVIS.
"You know he's going to go off looking for something he saw in whatever you showed him right? Just out of shear bloody mindedness unless something else drops in his lap?" John said quietly as he showed Mycroft out. Both of them heard the ring of Sherlock's phone and a silent look had them both rolling their eyes at the injured man's stubbornness.
"Once this is over we need to talk about whatever commented on the discussion," Mycroft said calmly.
[I will have a full report delivered to your desk by the time you return to your office. It seems only fair that you are aware of what happened as I am at least temporarily living with your brother and Doctor Watson,] JARVIS answered from John's phone in his pocket.
"Can I get a copy of that report?" John asked wryly.
[Of course, sir. I did already offer. I also know how to judge people's character and how to refuse service should the current situation see an unwanted person attempting to access your files. I am quite willing to discuss the matter of security and any number of other subjects when there is more time,] JARVIS informed them politely.
Mycroft was gone by the time that Sherlock rushed out the door, shoving John's jacket into his hands and signaled for a cab for the pair of them.
A trip down to the station revealed that the original explosion was a warning. A brand new pink phone waiting with a picture of the inside of 221C Baker Street and they were heading back home. A pair of shoes and a quiet reminder of the nature of their foe from John to Sherlock and Lestrade had the three of them studying the pair of sneakers without touching them. The ring of the pink phone shocked them out of their study of the shoes only to be treated to the sound of a terrified woman over the phone.
[Tracing call,] JARVIS murmured from John's pocket. John made no motion he had heard but Sherlock was focused entirely on the phone call.
"What? What did you say?" John asked, returning his attention back to his flatmate over the woman he couldn't help and the strange computer program attempting to help them.
"I've been expecting this for some time," Sherlock answered absently
"You had best solve my little puzzle, Sherlock, or I am going to be so naughty," the woman on the phone sobbed out, repeating the text message she had received for them before hanging up.
Sherlock scooped up the shoes and they headed for St. Bart's hospital where he started working.
[Sir, my analysis of the audio I pulled while attempting to trace the call leads me to believe that she was sitting in a stationary car on the street of a major city. Assuming that this person threatening her is serious about a puzzle game with Mr. Sherlock Holmes involving bombs she is likely to be somewhere in London. I was unable to complete the phone trace as I am still in the process of adapting to my new conditions. I can only assume that our best chance is to play along,] JARVIS reported, obviously unhappy.
"What is that? Who is that?" Lestrade demanded as they traveled to the teaching hospital.
"Its a new app my brother installed on John's phone when I refused to use it," Sherlock lied, meeting John's eyes with warning. John gave the barest of nods, agreeing to play along. "I haven't had the chance to wipe it from his phone just yet and it will obviously have to wait until this case is over with. Its supposed to remind us of appointments and give him a way to monitor us but he obviously gave us a beta version so until I erase it we are field testing it."
"You never know, I might even keep it," John shrugged as Sherlock theatrically rolled his eyes, maintaining the facade. This wasn't the first time John had to pull the selective memory trick and he knew it absolutely wouldn't be the last with Sherlock Holmes as his flatmate.
Hours later the computer search in the labs had come up with a match on the spores left behind on the shoes. John had been informed of Mycroft's lack of serious concern over the assigned national case via his texting habits and his dental appointment. The really interesting thing though to Sherlock was Molly and her current boyfriend Jim, checking up on them. Pretending to continue to work Sherlock studied Jim, ignoring Molly's prattle.
A casually commented deduction ended the attempt at niceties.
"Sorry, what?" Molly asked in dismay, hoping she had misheard.
"He's gay," Sherlock repeated with a sigh. John's phone buzzed, distracting him from the painfully awkward confrontation and the following deductions once Jim had taken his leave.
"Charming, well done," John said somewhat scornfully.
"I was just trying to save her from the pain. Isn't that what being kind is?" Sherlock asked, honestly puzzled.
"No, no Sherlock that wasn't kind. Your delivery leaves a lot to be desired," John informed him.
[Sir, I used the security cameras to observe the incident. While his method was on the brutal side it may in fact be safer this way,] JARVIS interjected.
"What do you mean? Elaborate," Sherlock instructed firmly. He might lack social graces and desperately pretend that he didn't care about the people he managed to tolerate long enough to know them somewhat but he didn't want them at risk. JARVIS' tone indicated there was actual danger to Molly from this man Jim or another traceable quarter.
[If you will recall I back hacked those in the employ of a Mr. Moriarty last night shortly before the explosion. I have reasonable evidence that doing so delayed the original planned explosion by roughly an hour. One image on the database that I back hacked matched Jim although it lacked any labeling and he was dressed rather professionally in the image. Further analysis of the stored image compared to the recent deductions reveals that while he intentionally give off signals that he is heterosexual in the image Jim is in fact bisexual. He is also far more interested in Mr. Holmes than Miss. Molly but your own presence has brought you to his attention in conjuncture with Mr. Holmes. It is possible that should his danger level be higher than expected he will seek to take Doctor Watson as a way to draw Mr. Holmes in or as bait for a trap,] JARVIS informed them solemnly.
"Noted," John said softly as he met Sherlock's gaze. Mentally filing that information away the pair of them turned to the shoes once more as Sherlock had John try his hand at deduction before correcting him.
"Oh, Carl Powers," Sherlock said, stopping mid explanation.
"What?" John inquired. Sherlock summarized the old case absently as he tried to remember the details of that day. When John finally demanded to help back at the flat Sherlock reminded him of the case Mycroft had given them and sent him off. John gave him an I know what you're doing but I'll allow it look and started investigating. By the time he was done quizzing Mycroft on his flatmate's behalf Sherlock had the answer to the shoes and posted it on his website, allowing them to rescue the hostage via the bomb squad.