this is all because 00q and skyfall

“You Took My Shirt?”

The shower turned off. The bathroom was heavily fogged, with humid heat trapped inside the small room. It could’ve easily been mistaken as a sauna if it were for the toilet and sink. His eyes scan through the fog to find the clothes he had set down earlier, but as far as his old eyes could see, they were gone. He isn’t sure if he’s getting old, but he was certain he placed it on the sink counter in a messy pile. He even remembers shrugging at it because he couldn’t find the effort to put them in a nice pile. 

It must be his mind. He’s growing old, just like Q says he is. 

With a sigh, he snatches a towel off the towel rack and pulls it around his waist as he leaves the bathroom to ask Q for a shirt. When the door opens, cold air immediately passes his cold body, and he has to make the effort not to visibly shiver. 

“Q, have you––” God he didn’t even get to finish his sentence before looking on the bed to see Q with his shirt. 

To be more specific; he saw Q, curled up on the bed with his grey shirt in his arms. His face is buried within the fabric, taking languid breaths in of the smell. Most likely James’ God awful cologne that Q claimed to have despised but apparently this sight contradicted everything. 

“You took my shirt?” James raises an eyebrow. He was about to take a step forward, but his body froze upon seeing the carpet of legos laid upon the floor. James does and doesn’t want to know how the hell.

“You’ll never take it from me!” Q actually hissed at James, backing himself up against the pillows and only gripping the shirt closer to him. James is utterly confused. 

“Where did you even get this lego!?” He exclaimed as his arms opened out to the legos on the floor. He doesn’t ever recall buying legos in the first place. He swears, if Q went out of his way to drive to the store, buy the legos and dumped them onto a mess for the thirty minutes he was in the shower, he’s going to murder the man. But James isn’t that stupid – fortunately. He can’t believe he’s doing this, but he kneels down, and pushes aside all the pieces that would’ve sent him all the way to his grave if he had stepped on one of them. He’s an agent, but nobody can endure having those little devil pieces dig into your skin. 

He managed to make a small pathway to the bed, and proceeded to pounce on the mattress. His weight made the mattress shift, and also made Q squeak. The double-oh crawled over, in between the Quartermaster’s legs. He was practically looming over the boy at this point, with James’ hands pressing against the headboard. 

“I believe you owe me something,” he whispered huskily. He’s close – close enough to have Q be a flustering mess. Without a single word, he handed him the shirt. And James, with a satisfied smile, took it, and climbed off the bed to disappear back in the bathroom. 

• • • 

“Where did you even get all the legos from?”

“Just because I develop weapons for you reckless arses doesn’t mean I can’t have my down time.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you.”

• • •


Things Q is probably good at

-Makeup, definitely. Some of the female agents just refuse to learn, and although Q supports whatever the hell any double 0 wants to do, sometimes you gotta wear makeup for undercover missions. Also, he really needs concealer under his eyes. Just so M doesn’t force him to take another vacation.

-Shooting. He’s probably better than all the agents, since he’s the one to painstakingly test every gun. Also, he can’t exactly protect himself by punching people (Bond would laugh)

-Swordfighting. Because it helps him relax. Much more of a personal art, not just random killing. And you need to be flexible and fast, not just brawny.

-Playing the piano. Q’s been playing since he was four. Music is mathematical. It came naturally to him.

AU where instead of Q just fuming quietly in a corner whenever James fails to bring back his equipment in one piece, he uses his technological prowess to break into Bond’s flat and mess with all of his appliances, ex) make the toaster so high powered that the toast ignites within seconds, the refrigerator freezes everything inside it and the freezer breaks everything because it’s so cold, the shower is either boiling hot or freezing cold and there is no in between, his alarm clock beeping randomly in the middle of the night, and all the while Q just giggles malevolently.

I heard that Trump became the president of the USA, and I can only say that I’m shocked. I seriously hope that all you American people will be okay. I live in Finland, and there is always room in my house so if things get bad you can always come here. 

Because this must be a bad day for all of you, I painted Bond and Q being gay as fuck and being proud as fuck about it. I didn’t have too much time to do it so it’s not perfect but I hope it will make your days a little bit better… 

Remember that whatever your sexuality or gender or religion or color is, or where ever you come from, it’s totally fine. 

I love your fics so so much. They are amazing I started reading them quite late so I am not sure if you have done this prompt before but if you haven’t, I would love to read a 00q fic where Q was a skilled freelance assassin prior to MI6 and he was actually recruited to MI6 because of said skills but never made into the double o program because M felt Q is more valuable at TSS. Cue the surprise all around when Bond and the rest of MI6 finds out that their fuzzy Q isn’t that fuzzy at all. TQ! – elenyar

Really, really fun. Jen.


“Dealing with it,” he replied, voice curt in the earpiece. “I have a clean shot.”

Bond looked over from his angle, and gave a small snort. “Q, I couldn’t make that shot, you don’t stand a hope in hell.”

Q narrowly restrained himself from shooting Bond himself, and elected instead to take the shot without further delay: the mark crumpled from an impeccable head shot, beautifully sunk through the temple and out the other side in an arc of blood and brain matter.

Bond blinked. “How the fuck…”

“Bond, I would suggest moving,” Q commented drily, as the door downstairs slammed open. “I’m on my way to you now.”

To get to Bond, Q would either have to enter via the currently knocked-in door, or scale two rooftops to swing through the open window. Bond didn’t exactly fancy Q’s chances – it would take an immense amount of physical dexterity – and so kept his attention firmly on eliminating the hostiles.

“I’m behind you.”

Bond twisted, just in time to see Q all but vault through the window, immediately retrieving his gun to cover Bond. “We don’t have long,” Q told him briskly. “We’re going for a full dispatch, no point in leaving witnesses.”

Q was a cold handler, in any missions. He had very few compunctions about ordering a full decimation, even if there were collateral risks. Bond hated that in him; nobody should order killings if they do not understand what it is to take a life.

Only, it appeared that Q was comfortable doing precisely that. “Q, have you ever killed anybody before?”

Q wheeled around, shooting Bond a truly extraordinary expression of sheer murder. “Bond, would you kindly stop patronising me?” he asked sharply. “I was a freelance assassin for six years before MI6 got hold of me, of course I’m acclimatised to violence – how can you possible employ a section chief who doesn’t understand the industry?!”

Bond was honestly, genuinely lost for words.

Not to mention that the entire concept was making his cock jump in his trousers; Q looked delicious handling a gun in itself, the fact of him knowing what to do with it, and demonstrating a high level of physical dexterity, well.

This was a touch inconvenient.

Q glanced him up and down briefly, and smirked. “We’ll deal with that later,” he said, with a nod to Bond’s groin, expression utterly wicked. “If you like?”

Bond was still finding words difficult, but nodded all the same. “I’d be delighted,” he managed, and returned attention to the stairwell, which was rapidly filling up with armed and dangerous men who wanted them both dead. “Shall we?”

“Lets,” Q agreed, and disappeared into the hallway.

Bondlock (Sherlock & Skyfall) fic recs

In celebration of the famous HLV mention of a third Holmes brother, I’m making a rec list of Bondlock fics because Skyfall’s Q (Ben Whishaw) is often portrayed as the third Holmes brother, so yeah. Some of these fics are more Skyfall-centric and some are more Sherlock-centric. All fics listed here are completed. Click on links to find summaries & fics.

Bondlock (with Q as the third Holmes brother)

Strontium Chloride Red and Other Colours by BootsnBlossoms

00Q. One of my favorite fics featuring Q as the youngest Holmes. Lovely characterization and writing, with hilarious interactions amongst the Holmes brothers. The 00Q pairing is sweet and sexy.

The Issues of Dating a Holmes by Jen (ConsultingWriters)

00Q and Johnlock. I recommend this for its comedic value. Q and Sherlock are feuding brothers trying to one-up each other during a double date dinner. Their boyfriends’ reactions are hilarious.

M is for Mummy by MoiraiThanatoio

In which not only is Q the youngest Holmes, but M is the Holmes family matriarch. It’s an interesting read, and we get to see John in BAMF mode.

Lost of Flown Away by winterhill

00Q. A Wingfic with excellent character moments and details. Focused on Q and 007, but plenty of Sherlock moments in the second half. 

Comes in Threes by Verbyna

00Q and implied Johnlock. Also implied Irene/Sherlock. This is a well-crafted study of Q and his relationships with his brothers as they grow up. I really like this one.

Bondlock (in which Q is not a Holmes)

First Came Pride by AnnieCard

In which James Bond meets Sherlock Holmes, and both of them are dead. At least, they’re supposed to be. This is a short but well-written fic, with a dash of humor and wit. The last line is an absolute clincher (for me).

The Thing About Disguises by Abby Normalitis

00Q. Irene Adler meets James Bond. This is a great short fic to see Irene in a new environment, the Woman and the Womanizer. Bonus points because Irene and Q turn out to be siblings.

Consultants and Constructs by heartslogos

00Q and Johnlock. Q is Jim Moriarty’s brother. NO WAIT, DON’T LEAVE. This is a good fic! It’s a captivating collection of vignettes featuring Q and Jim’s love-hate relationship and the eventual impact of their brotherhood on others (namely, Sherlock, John, and James). It’s beautiful.

Moving On by bravofiftyone

00Q. A well-constructed fic featuring Q and 007 as MI6’s power couple. The build-up is fairly well-done despite the short fic length, and the ending is quite marvelous, especially for us Sherlockians.

Sherlock/Skyfall fusion (AU) 

hurry home by augustbird

So I made this category just for this fic. It’s the sequel to us against, which is one of my favorite Johnlock fics and I will always fangirl over augustbird’s fic when given the choice. Both fics are great, with “hurry home” being a more solid James Bond AU. John is 007 and Sherlock is Q. It’s angsty, fun, sweet, and smolderingly hot. I am reccing this fic so hard.

Bonus Mentions

The Barton Family Series by KuriKuri

00Q (implied) and Johnlock. This series is a crossover of a whopping 8 universes, primarily focusing on the Barton siblings. Six incarnations of Jeremy Renner are all siblings (ranging from Clint Barton to William Brandt to Aaron Cross), with James Bond and John Watson being their oldest brothers. Sherlock and Q are also brothers. Basically all the brothers and their significant others are thrown together for Thanksgiving (and an eventual action plot) at the Avengers Tower. It almost verges on crack!fic. 

Kryptaria has written several noteworthy Bondlock fics, ranging from fics wherein Q is a Holmes to AUs to whatnot. 

My dears, you give me so much with your work. Was just happy to read other people’ s prompts, but have been trying to get over this heartache for a year. It’s unhealthy to harbour hope, I know, but could you please write something where James and Q meet, have sex and it’s just sex for one of them. The other pines away as they have to see each other regularly (let’s say weekly) but a year later something happens and they realise they were made for each other? Thank you is not enough. Love *B* - anon

Hell yes on a stick. Jen.

It had never occurred to Bond that he was the one who would misread a sexual situation to mean more than it did. Bond prided himself on reading other people, their motives and their desires, and to have failed quite so spectacularly when it mattered so much seemed almost painfully ironic.

Very simply, the problem was Q. Q, who was intelligent and dour and sarcastic and electric and gorgeous. Q, whom Bond had made the mistake of assuming would never be the type for a one-night stand. Q, who – it transpired – had absolutely no interest in a further relationship in spite of the extraordinary night they’d spent in bed.

Bond remained quiet, and mourned.

Sex didn’t quite have the same appeal. People didn’t. Those he would usually take pleasure and joy in seducing were not quite right, and the motions were the motions but there was nothing behind them, not the usual spark of desire that would send it toppling into bed with somebody pretty.

His mind threw up images of dark hair and green eyes, a spark of something exciting.

“Double-oh seven, move.”
Bond did as bidden.

There was a crack of a gunshot, and Bond had enough time to register surprise – no pain interestingly, that would come later – as a bullet punched into his leg, knocking him off his feet.

Q’s voice was all but hysterical in his ear: “Bond. Bond, what’s happened?”

Bond was busy trying to establish where the shooter was; he rattled off two shots of his own, and the man in question crumpled. “Any more, Q?” he asked, voice a little raspy. “I’m going to need a med evac.”

What happened?!” Q screeched.

“Ow,” Bond returned sarcastically, just before genuine pain started to register, the kind of blind that blinded and throbbed out, blood spilling, hot and wet and lethal. “Shot, Q. I’ve been shot.”

Q could swear spectacularly when he wanted to. Bond listened with detached amusement, managing to get his jacket off, bundle it, press it onto the wound with a strangled grunt of pain. “Med evac on the way. James, you’re not allowed to die. You’re not.”

Bond chuckled, low and tired. There was a lot of blood. “And why would that be, Quartermaster?”

The man was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry,” Q replied softly. “For everything. I was… when you got back. Dinner. Dating. That sort of thing.”

Bond couldn’t help a bubbling, slightly strangled laugh. His leg had stopped hurting, which was fairly nice, but his head was spinning a little. “Excellent,” he replied warmly, eyes closing, all his remaining energy compressing the wound. “Good. Yes. When I get back.”

“When you get back,” Q confirmed, as the door splintered in to admit the awaited med evac.


Bond opened his eyes.

Q was watching him, with a small smile. “You’re not dead,” he commented lightly.

“Apparently,” Bond replied, and breathed out a sigh as Q leaned in to kiss him.