Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11780991.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M
  Fandom:
      James_Bond_(Craig_movies), Sherlock_(TV)
  Relationship:
      James_Bond/Q, Mycroft_Holmes/Greg_Lestrade, Sherlock_Holmes/John_Watson
  Character:
      Eve_Moneypenny, M_|_Gareth_Mallory, Olivia_Mansfield, Bill_Tanner, Q_
      (James_Bond), Q_|_Boothroyd
  Additional Tags:
      BAMF_Q, Young_Q, Q_has_a_backstory, Q_is_a_Holmes, Mycroft_makes
      mistakes, Child_Abuse, Past_Rape/Non-con, Q_has_a_dog, Q_has_dress_sense
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-08-12 Updated: 2018-03-23 Chapters: 2/? Words: 2585
****** Behind Jaded Eyes ******
by Slyther1nM1nds
Summary
     Q's life started to go wrong when he was four, the hardships he faced
     shaped him into the man his is today. Only one person has ever been
     able to get completely through the shields he put around himself
***** Bend Me and I Break *****
Mycroft Holmes didn’t know what to do. Father had died months ago, Mother was
having a nervous breakdown, Sherlock was deep into drugs and Quentin … poor
little Quentin was getting lost in the upheaval. He slammed his hands down on
his office desk and started to think. Firstly he needed to get nineteen year
old Sherlock into an intense rehab but doing that was easier said than done the
boy was stubborn and Mycroft would need to be on top of him to make him stay.
He needed Quentin somewhere safe, his five year old brother was far too close
to Sherlock, he didn’t want him to go down the same dangerous path. He would
need to find someone for Quentin to stay with maybe his Uncle in Scotland his
Father hadn’t liked the man but that was just sibling rivalry … right?
A week later and Mycroft had just dropped Sherlock off at a rehab facility and
was in the car with Quentin on the way to Scotland. Mycroft looked down at his
little brother, he looked so like Sherlock at that age all lean and gangly
limbed the little boy with brown wavy hair and striking blue eyes was dressed
in navy corduroy shorts, a white long sleeved shirt, braces, navy knee length
socks and polished back T-bar shoes. Quentin was his families little miracle,
his parents had frozen sperm and eggs and Quentin had been born by surrogate
when his mother and father were forty five, he had been born twenty weeks early
and they all thought that he would die, he had been so small, his skin paper
thin, a machine that pumped oxygen into his body and an incubator keeping him
warm, but Quentin hadn’t just survived, he had thrived and as much as it
annoyed Mycroft to say it Quentin was probably the smartest of all the
brothers. Quentin was currently reading a book electrical wiring, the little
boy had always been interested in electronics and engineering. “Look at me
Quentin.” Mycroft said softly, this was the last thing he wanted to do, leave
Quentin with an unknown family member after he had just lost his Mother and
Father, Quentin’s blue eyes peered over the large book, the black square
glasses slipping down his nose “This isn’t forever Quentin, I will be back to
get you soon but you must do exactly what Uncle Sylvester tells you.”
Truthfully Mycroft was worried, Quentin hadn’t spoken a word to him since he
had told the boy he would be staying with their Uncle three days ago, even now
they eyes that normally held so much love looked lost and forlorn. Quentin
nodded sharply before returning to his book, Mycroft sighed, everything would
be fine … it had to be.
That night as Quentin lay in his temporary bed he knew that something was
wrong, the house was scary and the shadows moved sneakily through his room, he
didn’t like Uncle Sylvester something told him that the man was bad. He
startled as the door opened and poured light into his room, he heard the
shuffling steps that he had already started to associate with Sylvester near
his bed and lay unmoving as the man pulled back the covers and climbed into his
bed, what followed was the first time that Quentin was raped by his Uncle, the
feel of a rough calloused hand slipping into his pyjama bottoms, the sharp rip
of his rectal muscles as the man shoved his adult penis into Quentin’s anus,
the burning hot salty tears that cascaded down Quentin’s cheeks, the feel of
blood dripping down his throat as he screamed loudly, the heavy weight against
his back as the man finished, the thought that Mycroft or Sherlock would come
for him, all of this would haunt Quentin.
Two months later Quentin felt broken, he felt as if his world was stuck on some
twisted kind of repeat, Mycroft hadn’t come or called and Quentin had lost hope
that he ever would, it was then that he decided he would run away, there was no
point in relying others they all hurt him or left him in the end. Quentin
started to plan, in the daytime when he was left to his own devices he hacked
his Uncles bank account and transferred it to one he had set up in a fake name,
he created a false birth certificate for himself under the name of Eurus Wells,
he created a fake father Magnus Wells who was recently widowed, he hacked into
a apartment buildings website and rented a house in the name Magnus Wells and
set up a direct debit to pay the rent. Things like this were easy for Quentin
but the fact that it took two weeks for it all to be finalised was a living
nightmare each night Quentin worried that the blood loss would be too severe
that time or that the infection that he knew he was getting would kill him.
Finally he was ready to leave, he packed everything he could in a rucksack and
made his way to the window in his room, his bedroom door was always locked
after the night ‘events’ and so this was his only way out. He had calculated
the distance to the tree, the probability of injury was quite high, and he
could easily hobble his ankle. He balled up all of his courage and jumped onto
a protruding branch from the oak tree, at that point he was thankful for
Sherlock teaching him to climb trees as he effortlessly swung from branch to
branch until he reached the trunk and could shimmy down to the floor. He looked
up at the house up to the window to a place that had been his prison and ran as
fast as he could putting distance between himself and the twisted house of
horrors. He had arranged for a taxi to pick him up online pretending to be a
father sending his son off to his mothers, it had worked and he had ten minutes
to get to the pick up point.
Mycroft homes felt haggard, he felt stressed and guilty and he just wanted to
be able to sleep but he knew he had to go and see Quentin he had had no contact
with his baby brother for four months and he dreaded knowing what Quentin would
be like with him. When he had left Quentin with Sylvester he had had every
intention of visiting him in a couple of weeks but time had gotten away from
him, Sherlock had been difficult and without the responsibility being in front
of him Quentin had been so easy to forget about. He sighed as the driver pulled
up in front of the house. He gracefully climbed out of the car and climbed the
steps up to the house and knocked on the door, almost immediately the door was
pulled open and Mycroft absorbed the look of fear on Sylvester’s face before he
said “Hello, I came to see Quentin.” He wondered briefly what the fear was
about but he was too intent on seeing Quentin to care. He watched the older man
fluster.
“I’m sorry but young Quentin has been confined to his room, he has been very
disrespectful.” Sylvester simpered.
Mycroft could read the lie easily and he felt a knot forming in his gut but he
had to play this carefully “Oh really, then I will need to speak to him, I will
not have him disrespecting his elders.” He needed to see Quentin his heart was
pounding in his chest. Sylvester started to shake his head but Mycroft just
shoved past him, he was sick of playing games he ran up the stairs knowing
which room to go to as he had dropped Quentin’s things off there all those
months ago. He reached to room and his stomach dropped multiple bolts had been
added to the outside of the door he quickly slid all the bolts open and charged
forward into the room.
Mycroft’s stomach twisted violently as he looked around the room, it smelt of
sex, sweat, blood and infection, he looked at the large bed where sheets
streaked with blood were laying innocently. He wrenched open the wardrobe door
and saw very few of the clothes that Quentin had come with. Mycroft ran from
the room and found Sylvester using his momentum to shove the older man into the
wall “What the fuck did you do to him you bastard? Where is he?” The older man
just smirked at him and Mycroft’s skin crawled and he brought the man forward
before slamming into the wall harder “Did you kill him?”
The older man just laughed “No I didn’t kill the little bitch, he escaped …
probably dead by now though I mean it’s been two months.” The smile that the
man gave was the last straw for Mycroft and he punched the man hard in the jaw.
He stepped back before turning to his bodyguards.
“Dispose of him, I don’t care how … Just do it.” The two men nodded and Mycroft
strode back to the room that had been his little brothers room or prison he
thought mutinously. How could he have let this happen? One thing was clear
though, he needed to find Quentin because Mycroft didn’t believe for a second
that his little brother was dead.
***** IN A CAGE *****
Chapter Summary
     Quentin is in trouble, but will it all work out for the best?
At fourteen years old Quentin was very familiar with the fact that the world
wasn’t a nice place, that you shouldn’t depend on others unless you have no
other option. After he had run away from Sylvester’s life had gotten better,
but it certainly wasn’t easy a four year old on their own was something that
drew attention and so Quentin had to be careful about where he went and who he
came into contact with those who had their own shady dealings were less
concerned about others and tended to keep to themselves, taking this into
consideration he had chosen a flat which was on the rougher side of London.
This had its own set of problems though and Quentin had had to update security
on the flat to feel remotely safe.
Until he was seven Quentin had enrolled in the local comprehensive under his
alias, but he found it boring and soon he got a scholarship to private school
twenty miles from the flat. He was now completing his second university degree
at oxford university.
Quentin jerked awake as the alarm rang shrilly in his ear, he groaned as he
pressed the button on his watch which would deactivate the alarm, it had taken
years for Quentin to be able to sleep through the night and even now he had
frequent nightmares and he flinched at the slightest unexpected touch. Quentin
fumbled on his nightstand for his glasses and slipped them on, he tapped the
left arm once and suddenly the previously dark room showed up in vivid greens
as the night vision activated. The glasses were Quentin’s best invention, they
had many settings and they all helped Quentin get through his regular day
without succumbing to panic attacks.
He sighed as he sat up in bed the silk covers pooling around his waist, he had
to get up and head to a lecture, but he just couldn’t be bothered, maybe he
could take a sick day and do some hacking to pass the time. Quentin smiled at
the thought and decided that he deserved to treat himself to a day off. He got
out of bed and pulled on grey tracksuit bottoms and a white t-shirt before
heading into his cramped living room and picking up his laptop. This was when
Quentin felt he could relax, with the weight of his personally built laptop on
his thighs and the feel of the keys under his fingers as he tapped away at the
laptop. He started off easy hacking into the university website and marking
himself present, then he moved onto more interesting pursuits, hacking into MI5
was too easy and also ran the risk of gaining Mycroft’s attention, he had let
his brothers know he was alive but he didn’t want to see them, he was still so
angry about the ordeal, he still felt shattered into millions of pieces. He had
no doubt that his brothers were still looking for him, but Quentin felt that as
long as they knew he was alive he didn’t owe anything to them. Easily dodging
firewalls Quentin smirked as he hacked into MI6, their security was laughable
and he was enjoying himself so much that he didn’t even here the knock at his
door and so the first that he knew something was wrong was when an alert
flashed up on his glasses saying that his security had been breached.
He cursed under his breath as two men stormed into his flat, his laptop was
abandoned as he tried to exit the room, but the two large men easily
overpowered him, and one stuck a needle in his neck, as he felt the darkness
encroaching he felt panic overpowering his logic.
When Quentin woke up he was in a dingy cell laying on a bed which made his skin
crawl, his vision was blurry and to begin with he thought that it was a side
effect of the drug they had given him but then he realised that they had taken
his glasses. That was then the real panic set in and that was also when the
door to his cell opened and he was led kicking and screaming into a room where
they proceeded to roughly shove him into a chair and handcuff him to a table.
Then they left, he must have been sat there for hours, his brain turning over
too fast as he tried to calm himself down. Finally, the door opened and a
petite woman with short greying hair, wearing a black business suit walked in
and sat down opposite him. She seemed to observe him for a minute before she
smiled almost feral.
“Well Mr Wells you are a tricky man to track down.” She said smugly. “I am the
head of MI6 and you have been going in and out MI6 servers for over a year.”
Quentin felt like snorting, they hadn’t even got his real name “I’m afraid that
you won’t get any answers from me until I have my glasses, I’m as blind as a
bat without them.” Quentin lied through his teeth, he only had a slight
astigmatism but if he wanted to get out of this sans jail time he would have to
use every tool at his disposal.
The woman he knew to be M looked at his strangely before nodding and telling
the guard who was guarding the door to fetch him his glasses. Not ten minutes
later Quentin was relieved to feel the weight of his glasses on his nose and as
he looked up at M his glasses gave him all the details that was available about
her. Olivia Mansfield, 48 years Old, not very popular with her superiors but
good at her job. Quentin decided to tell the truth and see where it got him
“Firstly, you should know that I’ve done nothing to jeopardise missions or
taken any information to sell to others, you should also know that Eurus Wells
isn’t my real name, I ran away when I was four, my real name is Quentin
Sherrinford Holmes.”
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