Death In a Fuzzy Wooly Jumper
At first, they weren’t quite sure exactly what was the quiet, sweet-faced, jumper-wearing little man doing by the new M’s side. Unlike his predecessors, the new M was rather good at commanding and demanding attention. It wasn’t a surprise, considering that he had been the World’s Only Consulting Detective once upon a time.
Of course, the official story was that the World’s Only Consulting Detective had already retired to keep bees in Sussex and his husband, partner and blogger of over three decades was now to be kept busy writing their memoirs. Becoming the new head of MI6 was not to be spoken of. At least not yet, anyway, so it wasn’t as if Dr. Watson would be chronicling anything about this current chapter in the life of Sherlock Holmes.
M’s bodyguard was normally chosen among the best of MI6 but it seemed M was perfectly to be escorted around by his husband and partner, who was, of course, given the necessary security clearance and their driver.
Naturally, this gave certain Enemies of Crown and Country ideas.
They made their move during an Oversight Committee hearing. The Minister in charge of the hearing was in fine form during his filibustering, declaring MI6 a relic of the Cold War that needed to be put away, at the most and revamped from the ground up, at the very least.
At least until M shut the poor sod up by a well-timed deduction on the state of his finances and the massive bribes he accepted to have this farce of a Committee hearing set up in the first place. Gasps from the press recording the session had been quickly replaced with screams when a cadre of assassins disguised as more media men suddenly brandished guns, instead of cameras.
Three of them fell with bullet holes in various portions of their anatomy, delivered by the steady hand of one Dr. John H. Watson.
Two of them were accounted for by M’s bodyguard.
Another two from yet another MI6 agent, presumed to be one of the famous double O’s, though cameras failed to somehow capture a clear shot of his face.
And then, the good Dr. Watson, somehow more formidable in his comfortable, oatmeal-colored jumper than the rest of the uniformed and suited men and women coming in to diffuse the situation, managed to get at least two more assassins who had made the mistake of getting too close to his husband.
The bribe-taking Minister, unfortunately, committed suicide a few days after this debacle was over. The full story of the debts he accumulated and his unsavory habits, which accounted for said debts, was laid out to a gleeful and scandal-mongering media.
And thus, the new “M” started out his MI6 career with his customary flair for drama.
The complaints from Greater London’s Police Commissioner (read: swearing up a ruddy storm) was said to be heard clear up to Edinburgh.
In the meantime, the entirety of MI6 would now refer to the good Dr. John Hamish Watson as “Death in a Fuzzy Wooly Jumper” in tones of appropriate reverence and respect.
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Note: The Plot Bunnies won’t leave me alone, especially with Adorable Pictures to Squee Over. Stick a Fork in me, I’m just so done.
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Tag: bondlock
BONDLOCK ☼ There’s trouble in London, and John calls in an old friend for help.
Lady Karasu 