prettybirdy979

Title: Strangers in a Strange Land 2/?
Fandoms: BBC! Sherlock, NCIS
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: John, Sherlock, Lestrade, Donovan, Gibbs, Tony, Tim, Ziva, Ducky
Genre/Warnings: Crossover, Drama, Case-fic, Friendship, Humor
Summary: When a marine with a father in high places dies in London, the team from NCIS is sent to investiagte. There they meet a strange man who seems to know everything about everyone...
Author's Note: A fill (finally!) for this Make Me A Monday request by

subway_silence With thanks to

misanthropyray for Brit picking, and to my wonderful betas Fifi and Lily. Sorry for the delay in posting.

First Part

“So, where are we going?” John asked ten minutes later as he sat in a cab with Sherlock.

“You do that a lot.”

John blinked at the seemingly unrelated answer. “Do what?”

“Follow me without knowing where I’m going.” Sherlock had an odd look on his face.

“Because I trust you. Now, where are we going?”

“To interview the owner of the third crime scene, a Mrs Borelli.”

John threw Sherlock a confused glance. “Didn’t we already do that? Or at least, didn’t the police already do that?”

“Oh the police are a bunch of idiots who never ask the right questions. Now, which police officer interviewed her?”

“Ah, it was Sergeant Donovan. “

“Perfect.”

Sherlock settled back into the seat and John took that as his cue to be silent.

********

Getting into Mrs Borelli’s wasn’t a problem, all Sherlock had to do was flash a badge he had pickpocketed from Lestrade on the way out and they were in. Once inside, Sherlock instantly asked to see the room where Johnny Wiggles had died, despite having seen it earlier.

John just followed along, completely confused as to why they had come here. Sherlock spent two minutes in the room, asked two questions of Mrs Borelli about what she saw and then thanked her for her time and left.

“And what was the point of that?” John asked as they walked down the street, looking for a taxi.

“Proving a point.” With that Sherlock hailed a taxi leaving John to follow as always.

********

Half an hour after meeting Sherlock Holmes, Gibbs stormed into the NCIS room, as it had been nicknamed to demand progress of Tim and Ziva.

“What have you got McGee?!”

“Not much, but there’s not much to go Boss. The only thing linking the victims in any way is their name.” Tim said. At Gibbs’ glare he continued, “But I’ll continue looking as this guy has to pick his victims somehow.”

“Ziva?” Gibbs turned his glare onto her.

“I’ve requested the Met’s files on all similar cases with men named John and a last initial of ‘W’. They should be arriving soon.”

Just then a knock at the door caught everyone’s attention. Ziva opened the door to find a tall male detective with dark hair standing there, holding what looked to be a heavy box overflowing with files.

“Detective Inspector Lestrade said you wanted these. Where would you like me to put them? He also said you might want a hand… is that right? Or not, because I’m sure a woman like you doesn’t need help. I’m Detective Stanley McDonald by the way.” The man said in the space of ten seconds and in a Scottish accent.

Ziva blinked as she processed what he had said. “I do not need any help, thank you.” She said eventually.

It was then John Watson poked his head in the door. “Is this the ‘NCIS room’? Lestrade asked me to give this box to a Zi-va Da-vid.” He walked fully into the room, carrying another box like Stanley’s which he placed on the table by the other.

“On the other hand, help may be welcome.” Ziva revised. Stanley gave a broad grin, clearly happy to help.

Tony, however, was more focused on John’s appearance at the station. “What are you doing here Mr Watson?”

Tim snapped his head to focus on John. “You’re John Watson?”

“Yes, McGee; that’s the man we thought could be the killer. Now, what are you doing here?!”

“I’m here with Sherlock; we’re helping out on the case. Have been since the first victim.” John looked slightly bemused. “Didn’t Lestrade tell you that?” He turned to Tim.

“No, he didn’t.” Gibbs said from behind John. To John’s credit, he didn’t jump but simply moved slightly so Gibbs was in his range of view.

“Where is this ‘Sherlock’?” Ziva asked.

“He’s around. Probably telling Lestrade where his investigation is wrong.”

“Not quite John, but an excellent deduction.” Stanley said, losing his accent and startling Tim whose head snapped round to look at the additional voice in the room. Stanley straightened up, gaining another inch of height. He also changed his posture, making it so there was a completely different man sitting at the table searching through piles of files.

“It was more of a guess actually, based on my knowledge of you.” John didn’t seem thrown by Sherlock’s sudden appearance and moved over to stand behind him.

“How did you get in here?” Tony asked eyes wide.

“The same way John and I got into the third crime scene and our killer got these men to enter strangers’ houses.” With that, Sherlock threw a badge onto the table.

Tony picked it up and read it. “Detective Inspector Lestrade. How did you get this?”

“Borrowed it. We need a list of police who have reported their badges missing. John?”

“Lestrade is bringing it down.”

Gibbs slammed his hands down in the table, causing everyone except Sherlock to jump. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t arrest you two now.’

“You don’t have the authority to, at least not on British soil.” Sherlock said with a bored tone.

“I can get Lestrade to do it.”

“Lestrade won’t arrest me.” Sherlock retorted smugly. John made an amused huff beside him.

“Doesn’t count.” Sherlock turned his head to look at John. John just lifted an eyebrow in disbelief.

“It was part of my plan.”

“Yes because all your plans require spending a night in gaol.” John said with sarcasm in his voice.

Gibbs was sick of being ignored. During their conversation he had moved behind John and Sherlock and after John spoke he head slapped them.

They had two completely different reactions. Sherlock’s blow landed, creating a look of deepest shock on his face along with a shade of disbelief and self-anger at having missed the movements.

John, however, saw the hand in the corner of his eye and reacted with the instincts of a recently returned war veteran. He grabbed the hand as it touched his head, stepped under it and twisted it back behind Gibbs’ back. He stood there for a second, before releasing Gibbs as he realised what happened.

“Sorry about that. I’m used to people wanting me dead when they do that sort of thing-“

“How did you do that?!” Tony asked gobsmacked. “Gibbs is a marine! No one can defeat him.”

“I was in the army. And I hang around with this idiot.” John said fondly. “You have to be able to defend yourself.”

“You were in the army?” Tim asked.

“Oh for goodness sake, don’t tell me you are that stupid to have not noticed that!” Sherlock shouted. “Next you be saying you didn’t know he is a doctor!” He groaned at the NCIS teams’ blank looks and put his head in his hands muttering about having to work with unobservant idiots, causing John to smile.

“Right, I can’t arrest you but I want you gone from here. Now.” Gibbs said. He pointed at the door when neither of the two men moved. “I can and will force you two to leave.”

Sherlock gave him a considering look. “You would endanger lives to assert your authority?” When Gibbs expression didn’t change he nodded to himself. Then a smirk broke onto his face and John found himself tensing.

“Sherlock...” he warned.

Sherlock ignored him. “Earlier you were shocked at how much I knew about you and your man. You’ve both been wondering how I got a hold of your file. I didn’t. I did however observe. Take you-“he pointed to Gibbs, “It’s obvious you are a military man, even John noticed. That you were married was harder but not much. You have a faint tan line on both your ring fingers. Left means you were married, right means you were widowed. But the left is slightly more distinct meaning you were married more recently than you were widowed. At least two wives then. Building something wooden is easy; you still have sawdust on your clothing and it’s statistically most likely to be furniture, people are boring and don’t build anything else. Enclosed space is obvious, it’s autumn and you have sawdust on your arm under the shirt meaning you work with sleeves rolled up. Weather has been unseasonably cold all round the world so you must be indoors. You just proved my point about not suffering fools and striking them on the heads-” Here Sherlock grimaced and John smirked, “which was made obvious by your agent’s interaction with you at my flat. Your preference for coffee was clear from your grimace at John’s offer of tea.”

Gibbs looked murderous again, so Tony jumped in. “And the other stuff? About me and our team mates. How did you know that?”

Sherlock was pleased to able to continue showing off his brilliance. “Your clothes told me you travelled with a woman, as you both smell of a woman’s perfume. It’s the same perfume, meaning a woman sat between you for the long flight, which meant you had at least one other team member. You seem comfortable with another, meaning you work as partners regularly so the woman must have her own partner which I doubt you would have left behind. That this partner was British I deduced from your lack of reaction to John’s offer of tea. Most tourists share a smug smile when seeing this stereotype confirmed so you must have already adjusted to a tea loving Briton.”

“I assume you mean me as the British partner?” Tim asked.

Sherlock frowned. “Yes and I was sure you should be. The facts only allow for that conclusion-“

“Medical examiner.” Sherlock’s head jerked to Ziva as she explained. “Our M.E is British.”

Sherlock huffed. “Of course.” He appeared lost in thought for a moment, before glancing down at the files on the desk. He seemed to want to go back to work on the case.

Tony, however, was still not satisfied. “And how did you know all that stuff about me?”

Sherlock sighed dramatically. “Obvious!” he roared. “You showed no surprise or disgust at the mess in our flat so you are used to something similar. You have no tan lines on your hand either, both of which show that you have never married. Your appearance is trying too hard to be cool, especially with the glasses and you had a long glance at the movies John left out from our movie nights with a smile especially the James Bond ones. So you like movies and your appearance is similar to that of the ‘spy’ stereotype. Your interaction with your Boss screams the amount of trust you have in him and your illness can be deduced from the slight shallowness to your breath. It had to be serious to have had that great an effect on you.”

The room was silent for a few moments before Tony said, “My appearance is not try hard!”

Sherlock slammed his hand into his head in frustration. “Of everything I said that is what you focus on! Idiot. You are a team of Andersons!”

With a growl he stormed out of the room, John following after an apologetic shrug, grabbing a piece of paper off the table as he went.

Lestrade walked into the room seconds after they had left holding another box and looking back over his shoulder. “That’s odd.” He said as he placed the box on the table.

“What is?” asked Tim as Tony and Gibbs were still trying to control their anger and Ziva was just thoughtfully looking at the door where they had exited.

“Sherlock. He left without getting the information he asked me for.”

“Which was?” Gibbs snapped.

“This box. All the requests made by officers for new badges over the last five years. Minus mine.” He seemed unsurprised to see his badge on the table and simply slipped it into his pocket.

“McGee, go through that box. See if that madman was onto something.” Gibbs ordered grudgingly. “Tony, you look for connections between the victims.”

The team rushed to their jobs. Tim looked down at the box then up at Lestrade. “Detective Inspector…”

“Yes?”

“These wouldn’t happen to be on computer, would they?”

********

He watched the man closely. It had been only a few days since he had eliminated the last one, but he had to strike now. He was getting closer and the quicker he eliminated the wrong ones, the quicker he would find the real one.

He watched the man hobble into a coffee shop and decided to make his move.

Next