Chapter Text
Checking the piece of paper against the various building doors, John kept repeating the number of the flat he was looking for quietly under his breath. To anyone who passed him, he probably looked a little lost, but he was fairly certain, as the numbers grew closer to that he was heading in the right direction. In fact, he was he certain of it as he found himself in front of the door he was after. Pocketing the piece of paper, he pulled out a key from his pocket and let himself into the flat.
It wasn’t a bad place, the flat. With the rather dark coloured furniture and the hanging pieces of art, as opposed to pictures of friends and family, it was quite the little bachelor pad. Running his hand along the frame of a portrait of some foreign landscape, John thought it a bit strange considering that Eduardo Lucas was a married man, but then, Lucas wasn’t really Lucas. According to the file John had been given, he was Henri Fornaye, a traitor to a number of countries, it seemed, who made the unfortunate mistake of getting involved with a government employee in an effort to get information.
The fact that his plan had worked was where John found himself entering the picture.
Walking around the flat slowly, he dragged his fingers along the inside of the lamps and décor as he took in the room. When his sweep of the man’s living room was done, John moved onto every other room in the flat, being as meticulous as he could while being mindful of the time. After all, the only reason he was at the flat was to make sure that Fornaye never got a chance to sell his information regarding the military treaty that was in the works.
Or see another day, but that really wasn’t John’s concern since Fornaye was the one who got himself into such a situation. John’s only job was to put an end to the situation before it had a chance to escalate.Something he feared he might not be able to do after failing to find any of the information that Fornaye had stolen.
Tensing as he heard the door open, John pressed his back against a wall, peeking around the corner to watch as Fornaye walked into the flat. He wasn’t that large of a man and definitely didn’t seem to have any clue as to what was to come as John removed the garrotte from his pocket. Fornaye merely shut the front door before moving on to the kitchen.
Wasting little time, John did his best to sneak up behind the man, wrapping the garrotte around Fornaye’s throat with a practiced swiftness, gripping the handles tight as Fornaye struggled against him.
“Where’s the information you stole?” John questioned, barely loosening his grip since the last thing that he needed was Fornaye escaping.
Sputtering and coughing as he continued to scratch at the wire around his throat, squirming as though that would do any good, Fornaye managed to croak out, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
It was a bloody lie since Fornaye had been under surveillance since the information in question seemed to be spilled. They’d questioned everyone involved in the project thoroughly and in the end all roads led back to the Frenchman. But if he wasn’t going to make it easy, John was fine with that.
“Fine. Don’t tell me. Either way you’re a dead man,” he said as he pulled harder against the handles in an effort to bring about the man’s death as quickly as possible.
Fornaye, however, seemed to have a sense of self-preservation, no matter how small. Nearly dropping to his knees, face slowly turning blue, the man seemed to summon up a strange amount of strength, standing up just enough to ram John back against his stove.
Stove handle digging into his spine, John’s grip loosened at the sudden flash of pain, something Fornaye didn’t hesitate to take advantage of. Coughing, the man grabbed the jar of sugar and slammed it against John’s skull, waiting no time for him for to fall to the ground before making a laboured get away.
Groaning as he held his head, John watched blearily as Fornaye ran out of the flat. His head was spinning and he was certain that he was certain he was seeing double, but Fornaye escaping wasn’t an option. So with a small growl, John got to his feet and took off after the other man, hand brushing against his hip in a brief check for his Browning.
Rushing down the stairs of the building, couldn’t help but think that it was supposed to be a simple job. He was merely supposed to get in and get out and then call someone to deal with the body. Holding his head briefly as he nearly tripped down the stairs, he made a mental note to make Fornaye suffer for making his day a lot harder than what it was supposed to be.
Running out the front door of the building, John looked around briefly before spotting Fornaye as he looked back to check and see if John was still after him. Taking off without a thought for the occasional person on the street, John couldn’t wait to catch him. He was going to make him regret ever toying with the assassin when he was done with him.
Heart hammering in his chest as he began to catch up with the man, John tried to avoid the numerous people Fornaye shoved about in an effort to slow John down. Trying to push himself to move a bit faster, John bit back a growl as Fornaye rounded the corner. He was definitely going to relish getting rid of him, John thought right before he collided with what felt like a brick wall.
On the ground once again, John groaned at the idea of that bastard getting away. Taking a deep breath, he did his best to ignore the scent of cigar smoke that seemed to cling to the person under him. He had a man to track down and kill, even if the idea of breathing in the other man’s scent seemed impossibly more preferable.
Moving to get up, John immediately went still. The smell of cigars was something that he was more than ready to ignore, but the stiff feeling of something pressing against his hip wasn’t so easy to overlook. Furrowing his brows, he stared at the man under him, stunned to find the man staring back at him with an arched brow. Whoever the man was, he was expecting the worst and while John wanted to question it, he found himself beat to the point when his curious stranger spoke.
“Are we just going to lie here all day?”
“No.”
Of course, while he knew he had to get up, his body seemed less willing. Something about the distinctive feeling of a gun barrel pressed against him kept John where he was since he refused to believe he could’ve been caught up in the smell of cigars and stormy blue eyes. Not that his lack of movement seemed to bother the man under him. Going by the faint smile on his lips, he almost looked amused at the entire ordeal.
Clearing his throat, John shook his head and he forced himself to his feet. Dusting himself off first, he held out a hand to the other man, helping him get up as well. “Sorry about that,” he said, glancing around the man in some vain attempt to pinpoint his target even though he knew the man to be long gone. “I was uh… not watching where I was going.”
“You were chasing after that man in the brown jacket,” the man said, looking over his shoulder in the direction that John was looking. Turning back toward him, he pursed his lips as he dusted himself off. “Close crop blonde hair, about six foot, average build, grey or blue eyes. He had a rather distinctive mark on his neck that I think I may have been too busy looking at to notice you coming. Sorry.”
“You noticed all that in a few seconds?” John questioned.
With a rather self-satisfied grin, the man shrugged it off as though it was nothing before holding out a hand toward John. “Mycroft.”
“Nice to meet you,” John said, shaking his hand somewhat wearily.
Narrowing his eyes as a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, Mycroft let out a small noise of amusement. “Do I not get the benefit of getting your name as well?” He questioned
Shoving his hands into his pockets, John nodded toward Fornaye’s flat and said, “I should really be going.”
“After that man?” Mycroft called out after him.
Forcing up a small grin, John nodded as he kept moving. Questions were never a good thing when it came to what he did and the sooner he got away from Mycroft, the sooner all the man’s odd inquiries would come to an end.
“Well in that case, he’s a lucky man,” Mycroft said, a smug look on his face as he did.
Stopping in his tracks, John knew he should’ve kept moving. He could practically pinpoint the moment he had screwed up, but there was no ignoring that remark. Not when he was damn near certain that the other was flirting with him. After all, Fornaye was already in the wind and while he wanted to track the bastard down before he managed to leave the country, there was something about Mycroft he couldn’t quite ignore.
Instead his found himself laughing quietly to himself as he shook his head at the remark. “Trust me, I’m not the sort of guy you want after you.”
“Are you a cop?”
“No. Uh… Army. Soldier.”
“I suppose if I ask what he did to incur you’re attention you’d refuse to tell me that as well?” Mycroft asked, although he seemed to understand just what it was they were playing at.
“Just a bit,” he said with a small shrug.
Certainly if he could afford to tell the mysterious, well-dressed man about himself, he would’ve. But, as the situation stood, he couldn’t even afford to stand around talking to him like he was, not that such a fact had stopped him yet.
Furrowing his brows in thought, Mycroft looked him over as he moved closer to John. Standing up a bit straighter under his gaze, John didn’t miss the way that Mycroft’s lips quirked for a brief moment, likely amused by the fact that even at his full height John was still considerably shorter than him. If anything, John likely resembled a child trying to seem big in a pathetic attempt at posturing.
Of course, if that was on his mind, he made no mention of it. Instead, Mycroft licked his lips as he continued to look at John in thought. “So I get no name or information about you except for the fact that you’re a soldier, have a bad shoulder from where you were once shot, a sibling who I’m betting is older than you and happen to be interested in me, partly because I smell of cigars. That seems unfair”
Taken aback, John stared at him, doing little more than blinking, for a long moment before looking down at himself. When he failed to find what it was that Mycroft saw, he asked him, “How do you know that?”
“It’s written on your face,” he said as though that explained anything. Pulling out a card from the inner pocket of his coat, he held it out John. “So, I’m going to take a risk and give you my number. I hope to hear from you.”
“I’m not that type of guy,” John said as he pocketed the business card.
“What type? Interested in men?”
Rolling his eyes at the sarcastic question, John shook his head. “Adept at having a social life.”
“Well, I’m not any better considering that I was just leaving work to go home and do more work. If you call, though, perhaps we can try to become socially adept together,” he suggested in a way that made it sound so very easy and tempting.
It was a dangerous game, but John was curious and felt confident that his curiosity wouldn’t get him into a situation that he couldn’t handle. Still, to simply agree to go along with Mycroft’s idea was something he couldn’t do either.
Clenching his jaw, John clasped his hands behind his back as he ducked his head, staring up at Mycroft through his lashes as he thought. “You going to tell me how you know so much about?”
“Do I get a name?” Mycroft asked, not missing a beat.
“I’m John.”
“Simple. Far simpler than I would’ve thought.” Appearing to mull over John’s name, Mycroft eventually nodded to himself as he came to a decision on the matter. “I like it.”
“I do too,” John said cheekily. “Now, that information about me? The shoulder thing and all that? How do you know that?”
“I’m a very observant man,” Mycroft answered. Pulling out his pocket watch just as John was about to speak, the man held up a finger to silence him. “Sorry. I hate to dash, but I should be going. Work and all, yes?”
He didn’t even give John a chance to respond before he started to make his retreat, something that John figured was partially out of spite for when he had done the same. Still, John didn’t care for the bit of turnabout and couldn’t resist calling out to Mycroft’s quickly retreating form.
“Being observant isn’t a real answer, you know.”
Turning toward him, Mycroft shrugged helplessly. “I don’t have time to explain, so I guess if you ever want to know you’ll have to call me,” he said brandishing his pocket watch like some strange, flirtatious White Rabbit. Pocketing it as he continued on his way he turned away from John, lifting a hand in a small wave as he did. “Goodbye John. Have a nice time chasing after your bad guy.”
Waiting until Mycroft was well out of sight, John pulled out the business card he had been given to look it over. It was really quite plain. White card stock with nothing more than a number prints on the front of it in slightly slanted font. There was nothing distinctive about it aside from the faint hint of Mycroft’s cologne, but that didn’t stop John from flipping it in his fingers as he continued heading back to Fornaye’s flat to get a hint as to where he might run to.
Work was the most important thing in his life, he reminded himself as he tried to remember that he was after a man that had been playing fast and loose with state secrets and could be a serious threat to a treaty that was in the works. Mysterious strangers that smelled of cigar smoke and expensive cologne were nothing more than a distraction and he couldn’t allow those. He couldn’t even allow himself to have an honest relationship since he didn’t do the kind of work one could be honest about. So binning the card would’ve been the best option.
Yet putting it back in his trouser pocket and making the mental note to call was the option that John chose for some reason.