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See What Happens If

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Fiona got up early, a hard day for her, full of appointments for her newborn and things to finish here and there. She had just completed an article on the Brexit she sent to the Daily Mirror and was very happy to be on maternity leave so that she could do it at home. Her husband took care of their daughter so that she could get ready in time for a bus instead of the subway.

The subway was crowded, as always. However, at this time, there were not many people, it was rather between 7am and 9am, the big rush hour. Fiona had chosen to take the Piccadilly Line in Hammersmith, it was not better than taking the bus but no the choice. The closer we got to Piccadilly Circus, the more people there were.

At last she arrived at the station where everyone started to get off in an instant, she looked after her child and rushed like all the other passengers. She left the subway station and looked at her watch. It was 10:28 am, she looked at her daughter and smiled, they would have to hurry and cross the square if they wanted to get to the pediatrician in time.

"We'll go slowly, Sarah." She murmured, looking at the child sleeping in the baby carrier.

Fiona started moving, looked at her phone that rang, it was a reminder. It was 10:30 am, there were five minutes left to be there. It was always 10:30 am when a thud was heard. Black smoke filled the landscape and her lungs, Sarah woke up crying. Cries, many cries were heard while being clogged by the shrill sound that pierced her ears. Passers-by ran in every direction and people were covered with dust, with blood and debris. Fiona was as if paralyzed, a man came to her aid and drove her away. But another thud, was heard in a little distance. Several passers-by shouted when they saw the same smoke invade the sky, some began to shout that it was Hyde Park without being sure. Suddenly, shots were fired, Fiona fell to the ground, the man with her too, he had been shot. Fiona did her best to calm Sarah’s tears, which became more and more insistent, but they drowned from the multitude of cries of the crowd. Between these men, these women, these children or teenagers who were looking for a way out of this certain death that awaited them.

Very quickly, everything stopped. Fiona and Sarah too. Their tears froze as the bullet passed through their bodies already on the ground. It was the end, no one has ever seen that. Piccadilly Circus touched, in the distance, other dull noises had been heard. It was not Hyde Park, nor St Pancreas, it was the MI5 offices. A man had begged, begged all the gods that the man in the earpiece would not do it, but it was too late. The same noises, more amplified, the smoke suffocated the men and the sky. A huge hole was visible in the landscape and the tears of bystanders did not help. What exactly was going on ?

Further on, another thud made itself heard in the city leaving a hospital in flames. It was the hardest to see, the screams were present, the emotional shock too. Death had hit St Bartholomew Hospital and this time it wasn’t just a picture. Three attacks, within minutes of each other, London was torn open.









"Marina ?"

When she heard that name, the young woman turned to the voice calling her away. The glance of a piercing blue finally captured her interlocutor, walking towards her, the young woman combed her hair, placing her strand of hair on her side in the wake of her short hazel hair. Once arrived in front of two women, displaying gracious smiles despite eyes slightly tinged with fatigue, Rocambole smiled to them followed by a "Hello Marie-Jeanne, Hello Rim."

Rim, the assistant to the director of the department, gave her a radiant smile as a greeting. How could she always be in shape with everything she had to deal with? She admired her sincerely.

"Crisis cell 1." said the director of the department.

"Why ?" she asked, following the two women into the offices.

"Don’t worry. You’ll love the new girl. She’s gorgeous." Marie-Jeanne glanced her assistant with a look that said a lot to her, surprised by her words. "Chosen by the colonel and according to him, she's a real quick wit."

"He had the opportunity to work with her, it seems that she is quite surprising. I don't know what she did to him, but he loves her."

Marie-Jeanne stopped and turned to Rim, who looked at her, who seemed doubtful before resuming.

"She has already started the final stage of her training and will be affiliated with the UK."

"The United Kingdom?" asked the agent curiously.

"Yes. It looks interesting."

The three women arrived in crisis cell where Colonel MAG, the board of directors, one of the informants, Doctor Balmes, Agent Malotru, Raymond Sisteron, the chief warden and a young woman were already settled.

"News from London?" asked Marie-Jeanne, settling in her place.

"Not yet, but let us not dwell on it. We have to do here, Marie-Jeanne." replied the colonel. "Rocambole."

She nodded in salute. Rim rose to speak.

"The government has called in the intelligence services for a special request. Thinking that with the geopolitical tensions exploding recently in the UE, France had to take a lead for its security. In order for this to happen the government decided to place clandestine agents in the main cities of Europe of major interest to France, such as London, Rome or Berlin and other neighbouring countries. Thus was born the program Peace Under Control known as UCP, conceptualized when Henri Duflot was still director of the Bureau but finalized with Marie-Jeanne. This new program will serve both diplomatic and political interests, as well as the protection of national secrets."

"Thank you Rim. The UCP program has been affiliated with the BDL, so the Bureau is in charge of its new clandestines. UCP is a program of surveillance and espionage, but also of alliance and aid." continued Colonel MAG looking at Marina who was totally focused.

"Okay, I see. But Colonel, what does this have to do with me? You train agents for it, right ?"

The young stranger in the room stood up and she was beautiful, indeed. Her hair was slender, well in the flesh, pinned in a bun, and baby hairs were also pinned to her forehead. She was in her twenties and had a minimalist style that was too stylized for a DGSE officer. It was obvious that she was noticed with these many rings on her fingers. Her eyes were fixed on Marina, they were brown and gave her an intense look. It was almost fascinating.

"Marina. Meet Hazel Odelair, this is our new clandestine and the first clandestine affiliated to UCP. Hazel, this is agent Rocambole whom Rim spoke to you about earlier." said Marie-Jeanne looking at the young recruit.

"Nice to meet you." their words echoed.

"Rocambole, you will be in charge of Hazel’s training at the Bureau. Malotru will be able to assist you in this task if necessary, he will be Hazel’s chief reference in her mission." Marie-Jeanne added.

Marina was the most recent clandestine. She had never seen an officer go through the same process as her. She was thrilled, she also knew that becoming a future legend or rather a clandestine was an honor and that only the best of the best were recruited, so it was always interesting to see what a new agent has to prove.

"Well, the program has already begun, so has the final phase of Miss Odelair’s training. This meeting is over." launched Colonel MAG on his way out of the crisis cell, which made the rest of the room follow him.

Marie-Jeanne who was the last to leave, turned to Marina and Hazel with a benevolent smile.

"Welcome to the Bureau des Légendes."









They were all amazed.


No one imagined that action and words would eventually merge. It left a bitter taste in Mr. He thought that the person who orchestrated this triple attack was certainly the same person who had been harassing Q-Branch for a month. He had heard from MI5, their numbers were definitely reduced. The country’s internal security was compromised and the losses were substantial.

How could this have happened? In such a short interval. It was unprecedented! Everything was temporarily blocked, the police had started their work and the civilians were hardly supported. M sighed thinking of the call he had just received, announcing nothing good. He was about to get up when Bill Tanner furiously entered his office held up by Eve Moneypenny.

"He’s busy, Bill!"

"Sir, you should come and see this."

Eve sighed at Tanner. She stood back and watched Gareth Mallory glare at his Chief of Staff. Bill could only throw a discreet "Excuse me." before turning to Eve who raised her eyebrows as if to tell him she had warned him.

Mallory sketched a smile for Moneypenny, who gave it back to him and waved to Bill to turn to Mr. The relationship between Eve and Gareth really seemed to have improved. The two had come to know and even appreciate each other.

"What should I see Tanner?"

His tone was calm and calm, he looked at him waiting for an answer but Bill’s look already seemed to be that answer. He rose and followed Tanner, and so did Moneypenny. Tanner directed them to the Q Branch department, not really a surprise when all the attacks targeting MI6 go through that section. Unlike MI5, they had not yet had the honour or rather the sadness of losing their agents and employees or their premises -again-. Once there, an atmosphere of panic and stress was felt in the department. Q-led minions seemed concerned.

In the distance chatting with R and 006, Q seemed to be in complete control in front of the side screen that hung over the wall. All looked at the screen pointing at different messages, Mallory recognized some. They were the ones that the various cyber-attacks had left, at least their resolutions. Mallory has advanced a safer step beyond Bill, a curious look on his face.

"What’s going on?" he asked the small group.

Bill and Eve came close behind him, both paying close attention to the Quartermaster’s response.

𝘿𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙦𝙪𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤 𝙟𝙪𝙨, 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙪𝙧 𝙣𝙪𝙣𝙦𝙪𝙖𝙢.

"It’s Latin," Eve replied. All turned to her as if she had done something stupid.

A minion noted the sentence that had just appeared on the screen in the notebook he was holding. There were other unreadable sentences in the sight of Bill, Eve and Gareth.

"I think those who are aiming at us were trying to get a message out. That seems to be the last of the 10." Added Q looking at his superior.

"What kind of message Q?" asked Mallory looking at him.

Q backed back and placed himself behind his computer, making several manipulations.

We don’t know yet. We were trying to put the sentences in order so that she could say something more meaningful." answered R with annoyance. She looked at the minion and gave him the signal to give the notebook to 006 who watched with calm Olympian Q in his maneuver.

"You don’t know and you brought me here for this?"

"Sir, you specifically told me to notify you urgently as soon as something happens to the Q-Branch." said Bill Tanner, which made Eve smile quietly and raise the eyebrows of Alec Trevelyan, alias 006.

"Good. Do you have anything then?" asked again the director in a quieter tone. " You know that Mycroft Holmes will be arriving at any time and I want to avoid a moment of embarrassment at all costs."

"I have something!" exclaimed fervently Q, which caused almost everyone to stop. "I have something. Look."

Q made many phrases appear in Latin one after the other forming a concise text.

𝙌𝙪𝙞 𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙞𝙩 𝙥𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙪𝙢 𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙞𝙩 𝙥𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙚. 𝙌𝙪𝙞 𝙖𝙢𝙖𝙩 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙪𝙡𝙪𝙢 𝙞𝙣 𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙤 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙗𝙞𝙩. 𝘿𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙦𝙪𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤 𝙟𝙪𝙨, 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙪𝙧 𝙣𝙪𝙣𝙦𝙪𝙖𝙢. 𝙁𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙨𝙪𝙢. 𝙌𝙪𝙤𝙙 𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙖 𝙣𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙪𝙖, 𝙙𝙖𝙩 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙖. 𝙑𝙪𝙡𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙤𝙢𝙣𝙚𝙨, 𝙪𝙡𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙖 𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙩. 𝙇𝙪𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙦𝙪𝙞 𝙣𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙖𝙗𝙚𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙚𝙧𝙚. 𝙍𝙚𝙨 𝙟𝙪𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙖 𝙥𝙧𝙤 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙪𝙧. 𝙄𝙣 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙪𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙙𝙞𝙩 𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙞𝙚𝙢, 𝙦𝙪𝙤𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙘𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙪𝙢 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙪𝙞𝙩. 𝙈𝙤𝙭, 𝙪𝙩 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙩 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙚 𝙘𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙨.

Q was focused on reading these sentences, they had already translated them but never really thought to put them together.

"What does all this mean?" Trevelyan asked with concern.

"It's being translated." R answered calmly, looking at her computer.

Little by little the Latin text was subtitled by the translation of each sentence. Bill began to read them aloud while waiting for a sign from Q, who carried his cup of tea to his mouth as if to tell him to start.

"Who makes others act, acts by oneself, who puts himself at risk, wants to find his loss. Law sometimes sleeps, but does not die."

"A strong imagination produces the event. It happens in an hour which does not happen in a year. Every hour we are bruised the last one kills and who cannot pay from his purse pays from his skin. Judgment is held to be true." added Moneypenny following the Chief of Staff.

"Who spits in the sky, it falls back on his face... Soon to come on you." Mallory finished, frowning.

A cold settled between the small group who looked at the screen with a strange feeling. As if they had understood without really understanding what the message that the hackers had left for several months with each attack meant.

"From the beginning, we've been knew." Q’s voice cut the silence between them. All turned to him. His tone was dry but feverish. He drank a sip of tea and changed a look with Eve.

"What do you mean?" asked Tanner completely confused.

"From the beginning, we had been prevented of the situation, indeed, but nobody understood that this was what it was about."

All turned to the voice that seemed to come from behind them. Mallory tightened up to his voice, he sighed again and showed his most serious look forward to their interlocutor.

"It’s good to see you here, Mr. Holmes."

"Over 7 years of working together and you still can’t call me Mycroft. How heartbreaking, M." He said, shaking hands with Gareth and then moving forward to greet everyone. "Mr. Tanner. Miss Moneypenny. R. 006. Q." He said, shaking hands and finally standing beside Q to give him a slight smile that Q gave him back. "I’m listening."









"Where can I take ya ?"

"St Bartholomew Hospital, please." John answers by fastening his belt.

"In less than 15 minutes, thank you." added Sherlock, leaning towards the driver.

"Gonna be complicated sir. I'll do my best, ye."

"I hope Molly has nothing." John murmured. Sherlock turned to him to give him a reassuring smile.

Indeed, it was complicated the traffic being blocked with these numerous detours put in place but the taxi had managed to find a way and in thirteen minutes, the duo had arrived. Sherlock gave the driver 50-pounds, and then they both took a quick step to the secure location where they came across a Sally Donovan not surprised to see them.

"Here's the freak."


"He’s over there," she said, showing Lestrade nodding.

The fascination was present on the faces of passers-by who came to hurry to try to see the scene, the dead, the police securing the place. All this, this morbid voyeurism, this fascination with horror, Greg Lestrade didn’t understand it as much as he could understand it.

He was almost offended that so many people came to watch these buildings burn. Scotland Yard had arrived a few minutes ago and had already begun to secure the streets. They knew the firefighters were on their way to Piccadilly Circus, too. He had first passed through the premises of MI5, virtually all of Scotland Yard had been mobilized for. And when there wasn’t enough people for St Bartholomew Hospital, it was the off-duty police officers who took their services to get there and secure the premises. But, Mycroft had expressly asked him to go through St Barts' before visiting the teams placed in Piccadilly and Greg would prefer by experience not to oppose her husband.


"John! Sherlock! I mean! Where the hell have you been?"

"Where is Molly?" John asked. 


"Molly?" repeated Greg completely confused.

"Yes, Molly Hopper."

"Oh, yeah. She’s fine, she was shocked. She was sent to St Mary’s Hospital, but she has nothing physically."

One thing settled.

"How many dead?" asked Sherlock.

"Here, it’s about two hundred. The damage is less than in MI5 or Piccadilly, but we have more deaths than in MI5. St Barth’s is permanently blocked." said Greg. "We have no record, no way to trace the people who did this action so far. "

"If you say so," Sherlock replied with an arrogant smile.









Steps were being heard louder and louder in the hallways, one in a hurry and the other seemed to follow this approach as best as possible. The various offices of the section all seemed to be agitated, except for the two crisis cells which were rather calm.

"So this is the office where the Colonel sometimes comes to check that everything is going well between us and that no one is killing each other. Otherwise, in general, you will find him in Marie-Jeanne’s office, in a crisis cell or in his office at the DGSE. In fact, we don’t see much of him. Now I think I’ve told you everything about our department." The young woman paused a moment and looked at her future colleague, making sure that she had followed.

After all, getting to the BDL even when you're an experienced agent is always a little complicated. So, for a new agent who has only been through the DGSE before that can be complicated.

"It has changed quite a bit, and that must change you from the main DGSE." She replied. "It has changed since the former director of our department is dead and Marie-Jeanne has resumed his duties but you must understand, I imagine, if you are here now Hazel it's that everything has changed."

"Oh, I see ... I hope the change is that the office is more inclusive now !" She said smiling. Marina laughed at Hazel, who was right, the BDL, finally Bureau des Légendes, had meanwhile become more inclusive since her arrival and the return of Malotru.

Malotru had returned in 2015 and since then, the problems had only deepened further, to the point that the French Intelligence had also been in danger, the loyalty of the agents had been put to the test. Especially of Malotru who had difficulty at first to abandon his legend and to resume his life, then other problems that this basic problem had engendered. In addition to the number of double and triple agents in the DGSE and the Bureau.

It was strange how a person could come into your life and change everything, destroy everything without warning. But if Rocambole had returned from Iran, or rather, had been removed from Iran, it was also for this reason. Every time she stepped into the office, something was going on, and there she felt something was going to happen.


"Call me by my name."


When she was about to speak again but gets interrupted by a tall, slender, thin man with brown hair, tired features and grave eyes. It was him, Malotru.

Marina turned to the man, with an inquisitive look. Both seemed to communicate like this, the new recruit could only observe them without really feeling invited. This exchange of glances seemed to last yet an eternity before Marina dares to break the silence.

"Guillaume ?"

Hazel looked at them without understanding, and their glances simultaneously posed on the young woman before Marina shot her to chase Guillaume Debailly.

"Why are you taking her with you?" he asked in a cold tone.

"I've been charged of her, I'm training her. Guillaume, this is Hazel Odelair, Hazel, this is Guillaume Debailly, also called Malotru. I imagine that Marie-Jeanne told you about him, he trained me, he was in Syria for 6 years, then he was deputy director, there was a lot of complicated history of betrayal... "

"Why are you taking him with you?" asked William in a cold tone.

"Hazel, this is Guillaume Debailly, I imagine Marie-Jeanne told you about it. He trained me, he was in Syria for six years, then he was deputy director, there was a lot of complicated history of betrayal..."

"I was protecting France. I was not breaking the codes. Much less the code of loyalty, thank you. I know who she is and you’re not answering my question. Good to see you again, Odelair."

"Oh, all right, excuse me for being polite." She turned to Hazel who smiled at Guillaume. "Soon Hazel will be on the field, we must integrate her, make her feel good among us."

"If you say so."

"She doesn’t know anyone else here, it’s not gonna happen anytime soon. Then if it’s the results of the videos, she can see them and she can help us." Marina answered by looking at Guillaume who had stopped in front of his office muttering in his beard his annoyance.

"Sorry to interrupt your passionate conversation but you know I’m here, so I can hear you." the voice of Hazel sounded like an echo, Guillaume looked at her with a look that seemed to analyse her. He sighed and turned to Marina before letting them in.

"All right. Now close the door and don’t say a word."









"You’re in deep shit." He said in a cold tone before looking at his colleagues. " Take him. I want to have him a little bit before the intelligence takes it away."

"What about you, detective?"

Lestrade looked around him, Scotland Yard had to do the job, the secret service could not always have the hand, especially in a story with so many wounded and dead. His men would hate him again, Sally and Anderson would want to kill him, but they came with him all the way to Piccadilly. John had even participated in the observation of the corpses, he knew he was not going to go far without them. He sighed as he looked at his colleague.

"Bring me Holmes and Watson."

After complaining one or two more times, John ends up listening to what Sherlock had to say. The two were quickly taken in charge and taken directly back to Greg who seemed to be waiting for them with a firm foot. Sherlock had accepted without even making himself wanted, taking charge of Piccadilly’s alleged principal and perhaps solving the mystery of these simultaneous attacks, it was great.

Once we get to the station. They had a quick walk and talked about what was going to happen next and finally realized that everything was a complete mess.

"He’s in this room." Launched Greg by getting Sherlock and John into the room before the one who had the terrorist.

"You want to go alone?"

Sherlock looked at John, they exchanged a look that spoke volumes. John sighed.

"Go ahead. I’ll look through the camera. I’ll be very careful."

Lestrade and other policemen, including Sally who had not left him, and experts exchanged with Sherlock before he entered the room. Sherlock had nothing against all that heavy atmosphere, he could deal with it. He felt all of John’s benevolence with him through his eyes so it had to be okay.

He entered the room. The atmosphere was tense, the terrorist was calm. He and Sherlock watched each other. Sherlock had time to analyze him, a freshly shaven beard, dark circles proving that he had hung on his action until late, a little smirk of assurance. The man came from a modest background and was thoughtful. Suddenly, the glassy gaze of the stranger brightened. The terrorist seemed to have waited only for him. Sherlock wanted to begin the conversation tactfully, the man said nothing, but it was okay to Sherlock. The detective was watching the smirks he was making, his smile. After five minutes, the killer broke the silence between him and Sherlock.

"They've already sifted me, you know. He looked up at one of the cameras in the corner of the room, smiling. "I have nothing more to say."

Because he did not say anything, simply.

"You did not say anything yet."

"How can you know?"

Sherlock said nothing and kept looking at the man who seemed to be losing confidence.

"You and I, here, are talking, what do you want to hear, Sherlock Holmes."

Oh, a reader of my blog maybe? Or if not, another follower?

"Who are you ?" Sherlock asked, still impassive.

"Uninteresting." spat the terrorist. "I am a hetero cis white man."

Master of the militant language, nice. It's going to be very interesting for sure. He knows exactly what he is doing.

"So the biggest terror of this world in reality? Yes, you are not uninteresting otherwise you would not be there, especially when you carry out an attack."

"And you're not a mere inspector, you're Sherlock Holmes, and if I know you, it's because he knew you."

"He?" asked Sherlock perplexed. What could he be talking about? Sherlock was no longer really following.

"You know very well who. Gay consultant."

Did he think that showing latent homophobia with sufficient air would destabilize him?

Sherlock stepped back without losing his guard. He did not know why but this "he" had made him feel a strange feeling.

"Indeed, you are uninteresting."

The detective got up and looked at the terrorist one last time before heading towards the exit of the room.

"It’s not over, Sherlock Holmes. He doesn’t like odd numbers, you know that."

"What do you mean?"

"You know it, as you also know that you will not find your answers with me."

Sherlock left the room, his thoughts were troubled. The terrorist was telling the truth, it was certainly stimulating but he would get nothing from him. He returned to those who had called him, Lestrade looked at him and John seemed worried after this "he" as if he had understood.

"Leave him to Mycroft. Right now, I can’t get much out of it."

Lestrade looked at Sherlock with incomprehension, he left in a hurry and was quickly caught up by John and his brother-in-law. Greg seemed tired and yelled at Sherlock.

"You can ... You can help us this time? Really ? Sherlock." Greg asked.

"Ugh ... Well, John and I will do our research on our side, if we get something, we'll come back to you, in the meantime, contact Mycroft and do what you have to do. I’m sure your men will be very happy not to see me on this big case any longer." Sherlock replied the most seriously and ironically in the world before resuming his way to the exit.

"Thank you Greg, we'll be back to you soon. Say hello to Mycroft for me." John shouted before shaking his hand.

He caught up Sherlock who was already out of the station, John was slightly out of breath and stopped Sherlock. The man looked at him with a look both empty and determined. He approached his lover slowly, who was still out of breath.

"What are you thinking about, Sherlock?" asked John without difficulty.


To reassure him, Sherlock gave him a smile before returning to his path with him, more slowly this time. John knew that smile, it's the one which felt like a kiss on his lips, so yeah he trusted him and his nothing.

John and Sherlock were already a few meters away when a last sound was heard, the two looked at each other before turning back to the place from which the sound came. John opened his eyes and looked at Sherlock, who, the second he crossed his eyes, began to run. John followed him and the two stopped where they came from, Scotland Yard had been the victim of the last explosion.

"He doesn’t like odd numbers." Sherlock whispered. "Oh, that’s brilliant !"

"What ? What... What do you mean Sherlock ?"

"This is not a triple attack. This is a quadruple attack."






Chapter Text

In the rubble of the explosion, they were looking for him. Sherlock and John were on the lookout, they both thought the explosion had to come from the room where the terrorist had been left. They were indeed right, the explosion generated by the suicide bomber arrested in Piccadilly had caused part of the Scotland Yard offices to collapse. It was weird. Scotland Yard attacked. Scotland Yard joined the other three places. It was the drop of water that broke the camel or the icing on the cake.

Among the officers who seemed to want to recover from the blast, others were trying to root out the wounded. John had begun to examine and heal and protect those they saw in his path. Sherlock watched him go off while trying to find a familiar face, he fell well one of them but surely not the one he was hoping for.

"Where is he? Where is Lestrade ?!" he asked, shouting at Anderson who seemed as lost as himself. "Where is he ?"

I’m just- I’m just..."

"You what? Answer!" he said, grasping the collar of his jacket.

"I’m looking for him too, Holmes!"

"He was with you before John and I left the building! You must know! Use your brain, damn it!"

"If you let go of me, I could look for him!"

"Sherlock? Sherlock!"

At the agreement of this voice, Holmes turned and ran towards the voice, Anderson followed him and the two fell on Lestrade’s limp to reach them.

"Lieutenant! You need help?"

"Of course he needs help, dark fool. Even in the worst moments, you are not able to have an ounce of intelligence." spit out Sherlock by picking up Lestrade and moving him forward.

John came back to Lestrade and Sherlock to help. Sally came behind them by holding a piece of cloth on her arm. The four were headed straight for the exit, at the passage, seeing that the help was already there. Greg was totally overwhelmed, not by his injuries, but by seeing his men on the ground, by seeing Scotland Yard touched by this fucking terrorist operation. He was still struggling to continue to lead and assist his teams even though it was almost bloody.

After the firefighters took the necessary steps to save the building, the ambulance was still taking care of the wounded. Sherlock and John had not left Lestrade, whom they watched like a little boy.

"What exactly are we waiting for?" "Take me to St Mary's." he said in an exhausted voice, looking at John and Sherlock.

"It’s me we’re waiting for." The voice was too familiar to their ears. Greg sighed of both frustration and relief. Sherlock looked at Mycroft with a distrust.

"Have you waited all this time to dare to come to the scene of the attacks?"

"I had to see that with my own eyes in order to know what to do." Mycroft said, approaching them, Anthea followed him closely and turned to look at John for whom she had her usual little smile. "You are relieved of the case at the moment. I take care of the rest."

"The government is getting involved." Sherlock added, looking at his brother. "Let's go, John."

"Um, yes, yes. Greg, we’ll come and see you at St Mary’s. Mycroft, Anthea."

Mycroft watched them walk away.

"Why let them go?" asked Anthea. "You said they were necessary."

"And they are. But, I can’t use my secret card now, can I?"

Anthea nodded as she looked at her new phone.

"What about him?" she said when pointing to Lestrade who was being looked after by nurses.

"I’ll do it myself."






This attack was too singular, it was not like the one France had experienced, it was not of the same type as the one that had attacked the New Zealand and it was certainly not like the one that Mission Impossible had dismantled a few months earlier. It was a new kind. Between the press starting to talk about it and the public personalities starting to get tangled up, the less time went by, the ideas went elsewhere. Scotland Yard was starting to get back on its feet, as was MI5, and by attacking four strategic locations in London, the whole country was paralyzed.

Since these past events, there was a secret service was experiencing this remote collapse. The advantage was that they could think of strategies, look for help, move forward with the support and solicitation of the government. No, contrary to what you might think, it wasn’t MI6. The MI6 who was far too preoccupied with gathering the ashes of MI5, while managing his own problems. They were Saville Row’s luxury tailors. Harry Hart and Kingsman, 'the independents'' as Gareth Mallory liked to call them, were for once quiet and able to handle what others could not. Amazing, when we knew their agents had been through hell.

Having almost all been decimated, the remaining four had succeeded in eliminating those who sought to destroy their inheritance. This reviving their rivalry with the MI6. Of these four agents, Harry Hart became the new Arthur, Merlin resumed his Quartermaster's duties, despite his infirmity. Roxanne "Roxy" Morton also known as Lancelot, who had managed to survive the explosion of their headquarters, remained the best knight of the agency. And Gary "Eggsy" Unwin had to go through a lot of twists like saving the world again or being dumped by the Princess of Sweden on their wedding day. Maybe it was crazy but at least he was staying at Kingsman and Harry was back in his life. Today, the agency was stronger than ever, and had new recruits, both knights and simple agents operating for Kingsman had everything back in their hands. A whole new era was present since 2016.

Since the quadruple attack, some knights like Lancelot and Perceval had returned to British soil. As for Galahad, he had just returned from a mission to France where he had to work partly with agents of the DGSE. Arthur ensured that his agents still on mission could handle without problems but with the attacks he was somewhat disturbed. He had called on French intelligence services, including DGSE, which has been known to work effectively since the terrorist attacks in Paris. Mycroft Holmes had validated his idea and had himself initiate the procedure. However, the more time passed Hart was worried because lately France was silent. This withdrawal had pushed him to send his Eggsy to Paris to help in the resolution of a terrorist case but also to get an answer, because if there was something that Harry and Mycroft had understood, it is that they needed allies.

"Dinner's ready, Haz. Leave the work at work."

"I’m coming, darling. I absolutely wish to finish this now or Mycroft will come tomorrow and I’d like to avoid Merlin having a migraine." he answered calmly as the young man had already entered his office.

"All right, go on then. Don’t complain if I eat everything. Oh, by the way, we have answers from the baguettes!"

"Do you mean Paris ?"

"Yes, them." Eggsy’s narcissistic smile seemed to display a childish joy. Knowing what that means, Harry looked at Eggsy slightly surprised.

"Well, I’m listening." Hart shut down his computer and focused on his boyfriend.

"I’ll only tell ya, if ya come to eat."

After a duel of eyes that Eggsy won hands down, Harry was forced to join him and they ate and talked about everything and nothing. Harry had not insisted on knowing the answer of the French secret service and Eggsy knew that he had not forgotten either. After dinner, the two men shared, as usual, their dessert on the big couch in front of a movie. Eggsy was happy because he had the choice of tonight’s film and he chose Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

"For the French... That’s okay. They’re going to help." threw Eggsy in the middle of the movie, caressing JB.

"Sure they would agree. They knew that Mycroft would eventually contact them. Yet, they are as surprised as we are."

"They just want to be wanted, and then when they come here, we’ll learn that one of their best agents is messing around..."

"It happened once, and it’s more complicated than you think. "

"Don’t care, I don’t trust them." added Eggsy before getting up from Harry’s knees. "We'll see how the arrival of their agent will happen, but .. "

"You're suspicious, I understand, but these are our best allies."

"What about the Statesmen?"

"Who is this?" corrected Harry with a teasing smile that made his boyfriend melt.

"Okay, I’ll try to be gentler with their agent when he or she is with us."

"Good." said Harry before focusing on the film.

They had already been living together for 3 years and had made their relationship official. They had two dogs, a new apartment and especially a lot of love for each other. And since Kingsman had evolved, Eggsy was less on a mission as the newbies took over with great skill, leaving him and Harry to live a normal life as a couple.

"I don't do it for you." Eggsy added about ten minutes later. "I'm doing it to train because the blocks are accusing me of always wanting to fight everything and everyone."

"Well ... do I have to remind you how many cars you owe me?" he said, grabbing his chin to tease him.

"This is not the subject!" Eggsy retorted, dramatizing his voice and gestures.

"What do you mean ?"

"If we have a baby, one day, I should be sweeter with them." Eggsy's voice was innocent, as was the look he gave to his lover.

"Eggsy." murmured Harry in a breath.


"You will make a wonderful father."

Eggsy could only smile. He put his lips on his lover and engaged a kiss that quickly became languorous with desire. He was no longer thinking about the film, the bombings, or France, in his mind there was only Harry, the man of his life.

He knew that before he adopted a child with Harry, he might want to marry him. Anyway, he knew he’d marry Harry and eventually start a family. They had discussed it, well not really but Eggsy had insinuated it many times and Harry seemed to have understood it. It was an idea of life that appeased the one where he was an agent, the one where he traveled the world, went to galas, killed bad guys, the one that brought him to earth. After all, there was nothing better than knowing that every time he stepped on the ground again, Harry, JB and Mr Pickle II were waiting for him at home.

"I love you, y'know that right ?"






"How's her preparation?"

Dr. Balmes's voice was calm and his eyes seemed to gauge Marina who she had nothing to say.

"She's fine, Guillaume is working on it too, I get the feeling that at two it's going faster and she's learning fast." Marina smiled at her as she finished her sentence.

It was necessary to admit that Dr. Balmes was of a great help, like all the military doctors but she was also very intrusive. It was strange because she was extremely respectful towards the entire team. She was the one who insisted on taking care of all the agents.

"And its legend? She holds her legend under alcohol?" Balmes asked again, eating her salad.

Marina nodded, it was not complicated for Hazel, she was a real born actress. She was as talented as Guillaume, which is surprising somewhere. But she was still far from perfect.

"I have her legendary file if you want, I can give it to you when you're done, I thought MJ gave it to you."

"Not yet, but I do not mind, I could prepare her psychologically during her psychotherapy sessions." Balmes finished, scrutinizing her. Rocambole did not eat. Rocambole was much more secret for some time. It was not because they are spies that she did not read in them. Marina was hiding something.

"Marina?" Her voice was interrogative just like the rest of her face. "What is going on ?"


Marina gave a small smile before eating the tomato that Balmes had left.

"I'm just a little tired but do not worry, I'm fine."

"You have not had a real consultation for some time now ... I know that these last days were complicated, and since your two failed missio ..."

"Doctor, I'm fine." Marina cut off to prevent her from saying more. "I'm here, I help with the mission, I'm fine." she said, supporting his words. "I'll bring you back Hazel's file."

"Very good, thank you Marina."

She glanced at hze again before leaving the canteen. She crossed the premises and stopped in the yard to smoke a cigarette. Balmes had noticed her change of attitude, still happy that she thought it was because of the Russians and everything that had happened because of the FSB. After all, it's true that being a hostage was a traumatic experience, but that was to be expected with a such job.

Then if Guillaume had the "redemption" he hoped for, Marina continued to think that she should not have endangered her career to save him. He would have learned the lesson better. But the office needed him and needed the office, especially if he wanted to see his daughter, Prune, again. That was why he had agreed to share their discovery with Jonas, who had researched and provided the video surveillance of a woman named Irene Adler. Remained one last person that Marina wanted to inform before informing the management.


Speak of the devil...

"Raymond. I’m glad to see you. It feels good." They both hugged each other. The embrace was strange, it was peaceful but at the same time full of emotions. Marina finally backed up and pulled out her package to offer a cigarette to the superior of the watchmen section and friend. " At least I know you’re not mad at me."

"No one is against you, Marina. Marie-Jeanne is even reassured for Debailly."

"As always, it makes you wonder if she doesn’t feel anything for him. But, I take it." She sighed before shooting her cigarette. " I hate him for it."

Raymond seemed to be getting better, but he was terribly tired. This reassured Marina, she knew that the hunt for Debailly and covering Jonas with Iodine 3 had been hard for him.

"Anyway, forget, have you got some news from London?"

"For London, nothing new, time goes by but nothing gets better. They are always completely confused. That’s why Kingsman asked for Hazel as soon as possible."

Marina turned to Raymond surprised.

"No way! She’s not ready!"

"I know." he answered by finishing his cigarette. "But we can’t say no to them. We owe them that."

"Are they that weak?"

"Not them but the British government, you have no idea how much." Marina’s remark made him smile. " Kingsman will know what to do with Hazel better than us."

It better be, especially since we need her for what she knows.

"I hope so." She smiles at him.

Well, I’ll leave you. I have to see Jonas before the meeting this afternoon."

Here we are. Time to talk to him.


"Yes ?"

"Do you remember Max Denbigh?"

"Yes, he was the head of one of MI5's services, he died in 2015, why?"

"Oh okay..." Marina shook her head.

"What is it, Marina?" Raymond got close to her looking into his.

"If he is dead, then who is the one that Guillaume and I saw?"

Raymond frowned as he stared at Marina. He could read her like an open book, if Marina had told her that it was not trivial. She wanted to tell him something because she was hiding something, and if there was anyone who could help him, it was definitely him, who was in charge of the watchman service.

"If you show me what you have right now, maybe I can help you find out."






She wanted to stop him, to ask him to be calm, to stop trying to avoid a confrontation by moving in all directions. Madeleine was not disappointed, she continued to watch it but this show began to tire her. She had managed to hold him off long enough since they heard about the attacks, but now James had snapped.

"Stop it. Stop it."

He looked up at Madeleine. She had closed James' suitcase with such annoyance, the blond thought she was going to start a fight again. He sighed softly while Madeleine breathed.

"Madeleine, it’s over."

Their eyes crossed, Madeleine’s gaze was tinged with anger. And James, he was both elsewhere and present.

"I know. It has been for some time."

He delayed his business to come to the young woman. Once in front of her, his hands stroked her cheeks with infinite tenderness. For her, he was doomed. The two had loved each other, but as the love faded, and their routine, which had taken place when the two had moved to Switzerland, he bore it less and less. It had finally reached its climax during the holidays they were on in Jamaica. In the end, the two had nothing but affection for each other. Bond had come to understand that he loved Madeleine but was not in love with her. 

But that’s not the point.

Bond was missing something. Madeleine had come to understand it. From the beginning, this thing had followed them and she knew.

"It’s probably better this way... Do they really need you, James? After all, they’ve been doing fine without you for four years."

Four years, that’s right. It was a long time, four years trying to find a way to live peacefully together, to establish stability, to love each other, to make love. But also four years of thinking that retirement, while deserved, was boring. He should have been there, he should have experienced the attacks in London, the deaths of the MI5 agents with them. He backed away and looked at Madeleine before opening his suitcase to finish it.

"Four years and I never stopped thinking about it." He took a short break. " That’s my solution, not ours. You’ll find yours by yourself, Maddie. I know that. You know very well that you don’t need me."

Madeleine looked up at the news channel that was still talking about the main London bombing.

"What do you know?" she quietly added.

"Promise me you’ll take care of yourself."

James knew that Madeleine would eventually die at his side, either from danger or from old age. She would end up dying like Séverine. Or by leaving him because she wouldn’t want to have to face this somewhat broken man anymore. So he preferred to do like Camille, he preferred to put an end to all this.

"I will." She said, watching the blonde walk away and leave her definitively.

The blond turned to her opening the door.

"Madeleine, I’m just..."

She could only look at him by putting one of her strands of hair behind her ears.

"I know."

He sketched a smile, knowing perfectly the meaning of such silence. Madeleine wouldn’t change and that was the confidence he needed when he knew he was leaving for this life, this adrenaline, that was what he was missing.






It was raining international tributes since the Queen spoke publicly to reassure the public. The government had planned a national tribute and MI6 had to stop its own activities to devote itself to it. The press took great pleasure in feeding both fear and hope, which meant that everyone had their opinion on the situation. The headline of the Sun read, 'Are we still safe today? '.

It was an extremely hard blow to swallow. The number of dead and wounded had been shared by a Prime Minister under pressure in the press and knowing that the operation had caused 409 deaths and about 520 wounded, 170 of which between life and death had only made things worse and the collective frenzy. For Mycroft Holmes, it was a picture of a situation he was increasingly unaware of. Even though, as Sherlock liked to say; he is the British government. He was so busy that he hired another assistant. Plus, he had another problem to deal with, his siblings.

At least once a month, he went to visit Eurus, their little sister, in Sherrinford prison with Sherlock and his parents if they did not leave. Their last visit was long before the attacks and shortly after Sherlock and John's wedding. Sherlock’s marriage had been a real event for everyone. Sherlock being a public figure, it had made a lot of talk. Already, it was weirdly surprising to see that so many people were 'shipping' Sherlock and John as if they were fictional characters, but in addition it had ended up reassuring John about his fear of judgement for his bisexuality. Because everyone thought it was great and it even brought him closer to Harry. But the subject of the day was certainly not going to be the wedding or Rosamund's official adoption. Mycroft knew that as always Eurus would judge them, them and their actions. Well, only if Sherlock could be on time.

"Sherlock. Where are you now?"

"Here. Talking to yourself now? Although it turns out to be an excellent practice for mental health."

"Bloddy hell, Sherlock! What the hell are you doing hiding like that?"

"Nothing beats a perfect entry, my dear brother."

The two men began to walk towards the building. They had not seen each other for some time. Both were far too busy and Sherlock was solving cases that people would leave him on his blog or via Twitter to pass the time and ignore Mycroft.

"John went to see Gregory in St Mary’s. I know he was careful to avoid me because you asked him to, wasn’t he, Sherlock?" asked Mycroft to break the silence.

"How is your husband?" asked Sherlock, ignoring his comment.

"Will you stop being a child? I won’t ask you this again." Mycroft growled while stopping.

Sherlock turned to him. He knew that after the attack, the recovery of the victims, Lestrade was not to be at the top of his physical form. And he also knew that yet he had returned to work despite this.

"You shut me out of the case, Mycroft!" Sherlock shouted back. "You know damn well I need cases like this."

A silence settled again and Mycroft sighed.

"He's better, he's no longer shocked by the event itself, but he's more .. How to say ... Hm, bitter that he lost the main track to the brain of the operation. I gave him time to get back on his feet but now we’re not moving forward and I need him."

"Yes, I'm sure you found perverse ways to put your favorite puppet back on track."


"Never mind, say it."


"Mycroft, you know I hate to start something without finishing it, Lestrade will eventually come back to me." he said, adding a small smile before passing the retinal scanner to go to the reception where the secretary seemed to be waiting for them.

"Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes!" she said, looking at the card on her screen. "You are the Beyoncé of crime! The famous detective with the cap.. that you do not wear today. It would almost be hard to recognize you without it." the young student who was at the reception was smiling at the top of her teeth, which caused a muffled laugh from Mycroft.

"John and his bloody hat. Sorry, it burned in a fire." Sherlock glared at his brother. "Are you new here?"

"Ah. That’s too bad, you’re so cute with it. Yes, I’m replacing Madame Mayweather. By the way, congratulations for your wedding and I read on Doctor Watson’s blog that you were on the resolution of the quadurple bombing! That’s great! With you, we are sure to catch these assholes. And also, the rock crystal chandelier case, phenomenal! Anyway, you come to see..."

"Eurus Holmes." added Mycroft by cutting it somewhat impatient and at the same time totally amused by the new host secretary.

"Yeah, the woman who looks like the child in The Ring. She is on the 7th floor, she was moved and put in a new, bigger room. And now she has a telly too. Here are your access passes." She was staring at the luggage that Sherlock had with him. "What do you have there, Mr. Holmes?"

"My violin. It has already been checked. Thank you... Lea!" She nodded and had stars in her eyes when Sherlock said her name. After that, the two brothers went on their way.

"Did your hat burn in a fire?" added Mycroft amused.

"If only it were true."

Once Mycroft came face to face with the room where Eurus was being held, he turned to Sherlock. It was always like a test to see her, but the more they did, the more prepared they were.

"You’re late." Eurus' voice was cold. Sherlock sketched a smile and Mycroft walked towards her. "Is it just the two of you? Not Dad, not Mum?"

"We are delighted to see you too, Eurus." Sherlock replied in a sarcastic tone.

"You didn’t even bring your daughter and John, I’m disappointed."

Sherlock sighed, it was hard to know what Eurus really thought because of the cold tone of her voice, but most of the time even though she was meticulously controlling her facial expressions, she was happy.

"But, I brought my violin back! John and Rosie had to do. You don’t ask Mycroft about Lestrade?"

"No. I’ve already had enough watching it." Sherlock laughed. "I don’t hate him if that’s what you’re laughing at, Sherlock. I see what’s going on out there. Not funny. Mycroft is concerned, but not only by that."

Eurus was not wrong. Mycroft was obviously concerned about everything that was going on in London right now, he didn’t really have a choice but he was calmer than anyone else in this room. He was just worried about it.

"It’s Q, isn’t it?" she asked looking at him.


"Are you worried about our brother? You see Mycroft, I would like to help you but I still can not see him, since you've forbidden me."

Sherlock watched the eye-to-eye duel between the two and couldn’t help but want to laugh.

"Sherlock. Our little brother is in distress." Mycroft said with the most serious look in the world.

"Tell me something I don’t know."

Mycroft continued to fix Sherlock who resumed his seriousness. He knew that when we spoke of Q, it was always tense. Always sensitive. Always complicated. All three held on to Q more than anything and even Eurus. Even if she only saw him from afar or in a covered way, he was his favorite.

"I see ... The cyberattacks. They affected his department." asked Sherlock as Eurus exchanged a look with his brother as if to read it. "He did not told me anything."

"You know it’s going to continue, don’t you... ? Mycroft, you can’t rule out any help, I see, we’re offering you help."

"Who ?" Sherlock asked.

"The French."

"I’m not talking about them. I’m talking about Sherlock." Eurus took her violin. "Neither Scotland Yard, nor MI6 or Kingsman will be able to support this work by being dispatched. Collaborate."

"If it’s not for your country, do it for him." Sherlock finished.

He took out his violin, Mycroft sat down and watched his brother and sister play in harmony as usual, while coguing on his words. Even if their siblings were the strangest, they understood each other, they supported each other and maybe they really loved each other. They knew they had to protect the one thing that really connected them, a person, their little brother who also turned out to be the young Quartermaster of MI6.