Title: Nothing Human Is Alien to Me
By: marag
Pairing: Jack/Lestrade
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the BBC. I just fantasize about them.
Fandoms: Torchwood/Sherlock crossover
Summary: Jack Harkness needs the help of Sherlock Holmes, but when Sherlock turns him away, he ends up with a certain detective inspector.
Notes: This was entirely too much fun to write. I'm just sayin'. Thanks to Kayim for the beta/Britpick.

***

Lestrade was not asleep at his desk at midnight when the stranger came through his door. He wasn't asleep, but it was damn close. He raised his head sharply, giving himself a bit of vertigo, and stared at the...vision that came through his door.

I've died and gone to movie star heaven, he thought for a moment. The idea wasn't exactly shot down by the grin the man gave him, all white straight teeth like a dentist's dream. "DI Lestrade?" the vision asked.

It took Lestrade a moment to realize he was being addressed. He stood carefully. "Yes?"

Hand out, the vision said "I'm Captain Jack Harkness. I need to speak to you about Sherlock Holmes."

Lestrade shook Harkness' hand absently, mind racing. "What about him?" He waved the man to a chair and sat back down.

"I was told you might be able to get me in to see him. I work for an organization you might have heard of...Torchwood."

"Fuck."

Harkness grinned again. "Sure, if you ask nicely."

Scrubbing his face, Lestrade tried again. "It's late, I'm tired. Tell me what you want."

"I need to talk to Mr. Holmes, but he won't see me."

"Really?"

"I went to his home, but he leaned out the window, informed me I was impossible, and slammed the window again."

Lestrade chuckled.

"Now my staff have often informed me I'm impossible, but I'm fairly sure Mr. Holmes means something else," Harkness said with a smirk.

"You still haven't told me why you need to talk to him." Lestrade smiled politely, but he could tell from the way Harkness subtly tensed that the man knew the polite smile was a façade.

"If you know what Torchwood is, then you know such information is on a need-to-know basis."

"I'm not going to force Sherlock to talk to you." Lestrade leaned back in his chair, forcing himself to relax, hands on the chair arms. Show the man he wasn't afraid of him or Torchwood. "He's in the way of being a friend of mine and if he doesn't want to talk to you, that's that."

"Friend?" Harkness' eyebrows went up. "You conduct drug busts in his flat when he annoys you."

"Keeping him clean is just part of the friendly service." Lestrade gave an even more polite smile.

"So," Harkness said, leaning forward, "are you more concerned about protecting Sherlock Holmes or protecting your job?"

Lestrade mimicked his position and leaned across the desk. "You can go back to whatever high mucketymuck sent you and tell them to sod off, Captain Harkness. You can even quote me on that, if you like."

Harkness leaned back, laughing. "I like you, Inspector Lestrade. Oh, and welcome to need to know. Of course, I don't think you're going to like it much."

Lestrade blinked. "What?"

"The problem, you see, is that we have aliens infiltrating the British government."

"What?"

"Aliens. From outer space." Harkness' grin grew impossibly wider. "And now that you think I'm crazy, I have to ask you if you know Sherlock Holmes' brother."

Lestrade closed his eyes and counted to ten before opening them again. "Yeah, we've...met."

"He kidnapped you and asked about your business with Sherlock, didn't he?"

"Possibly."

"If it helps, he does that to everybody."

Lestrade considered Harkness. "Did he do that to you?"

"Well, no. But that's because I'm just a tiny bit scarier than he is."

"Oh good." Lestrade absolutely did not wish that John Watson was here with that gun he absolutely did not have.

"But that's not the point."

"There's a point? I mean, other than making me go nuts?"

Harkness' smile was sympathetic now. "If Mycroft Holmes tells you I'm on the up and up, will you believe me?"

This was it, then. Lestrade took a breath. "Yes, if Mycroft Holmes tells me little green men from outer space are trying to take over the country, I will believe you."

"Do you know his number?"

Lestrade snorted. "He put it in my phone. I tried to delete it once, but it reappeared." He grabbed his phone out of a drawer and pulled up "MH," dialing without looking at Harkness and putting it on speaker.

"Inspector Lestrade, what a pleasure," Mycroft's plummy voice said almost immediately. "I do hope you're over that unfortunate cold of last week. And hello again, Captain Harkness. How is your pterodactyl doing these days?"

Lestrade's head shot up as Harkness chuckled. "She's just fine. As are my colleagues. And how is the British civil service?"

"Civil, as always. Now, Inspector Lestrade, I believe you wanted to ask me something?"

"Ah..." Now that it came down to it, he couldn't quite bring himself to say the words.

"No need to be shy."

Damn it, the man knew what he wanted to know and he was just playing with him. "Captain Harkness has brought me a story of aliens. It sounds a bit farfetched."

"It does, doesn't it? Unfortunately, it also appears to be true." Mycroft's dramatic sigh was clearly audible.

Lestrade swallowed. "Should I take him to Sherlock?"

There was a pause. "Yes, I believe you should. I would appreciate your assistance in this matter."

"Okay then."

"Thank you, Inspector. Oh, and Captain Harkness?"

"Yes?"

"If you allow my brother to be harmed in any way during the course of this affair, do not count on the pterodactyl or anyone else to protect you."

"I'd expect nothing less," Harkness said.

"Good night, gentlemen." Click.

Lestrade rubbed his eyes yet again. "Can this wait 'til tomorrow or do I need to deal with Sherlock on no sleep?"

"We can wait until the morning. I'll pick you up at your flat at 7."

"Good." Lestrade stood, pausing at the look in the other man's eye.

"I mean, unless you wanted me to join you." Harkness grinned and the room was suddenly several degrees warmer.

Lestrade felt like a butterfly pinned on one of those boards. "Ah..." He swallowed.

"Too soon?" Harkness shrugged. "Just thought I'd ask. Let me know if you change your mind. Any time, since I don't sleep much." And in a moment he was out of his chair and gone.

To the empty doorway, Lestrade said. "And how would I reach you if-" He sighed and held up his phone, skimming down the contacts. Sure enough, there was a new entry for Jack H. "I guess I don't have to ask if he knows where I live."

hr

Promptly at 7 am, a black SUV pulled up in front of Lestrade, who was leaning against a wall, and Harkness rolled down the window. "Buy you a drink, sailor?"

"Do you ever stop?" Lestrade said as he climbed in.

"Nope."

Lestrade leaned back against the seat and tried to pretend that he'd had enough sleep.

"Planning to call ahead?" Harkness asked after a few minutes.

"Uh-uh. Surprise works better in my experience."

"I love an experienced man."

Lestrade sighed and rubbed his forehead. He couldn't wait to see what Sherlock and John made of this one.

Harkness took pity on him and they rode the rest of the way in silence, although oddly it wasn't an uncomfortable silence.

As they walked up Baker Street to 221, Lestrade glanced sideways at the man walking next to him. The greatcoat and braces reminded him, well, of a different version of Sherlock's sharp dressing. And he had to admit to curiosity over what Harkness was carrying in the leather case he carried.

"Hullo, Mrs. Hudson," Lestrade said when the landlady opened the door.

"Good morning, dear. Early for you, isn't it?" she said as she let them in.

Harkness slid past and bent over her hand. "It's never too early to say good morning to a lovely lady." The words were corny, but somehow he sounded sincere. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Captain Harkness, here to see Sherlock Holmes."

Mrs. Hudson smiled. "Lovely to meet you, dear. I heard Sherlock playing his violin an hour ago, so I'm sure he's up. Not that he seems to sleep much."

Harkness stepped aside again and let Lestrade go first. Lestrade knocked once and tried the door, which was open. When he stepped in, John was just coming from his room, buttoning a shirt, and Sherlock was lying on the sofa, looking dramatic.

"Oi, Sherlock, sit up and say hello," Lestrade said. "Good morning, John."

John raised an eyebrow at both of them but obediently said, "Good morning. To what do we owe this pleasure? It's not time for our weekly drug search, is it? No, Anderson's not here gloating, so it can't be."

Lestrade chuckled. "Here on business that might interest Sherlock, in fact. A case of sorts."

"Of sorts?" Sherlock flung himself upright and glared at Harkness. "You are out of sorts. In fact, I might go so far as to say out of bounds."

John rolled his eyes. "What are you on about?"

"Look at him!"

"I haven't even been introduced to him," John said. "Can I take the test afterward?"

Harkness laughed. "Dr. Watson, I'm Captain Jack Harkness and very pleased to meet you."

John considered him. "Old-fashioned dress," he said, "although I don't think you're one to talk, Sherlock. Good dentist. An American accent, although there's some Scottish burr as well."

"Very good. Wrong, but certainly the best possible guess," Harkness said.

Lestrade and John looked at each other. Lestrade shrugged.

"I give up," John said. "What's going on?"

Harkness stepped forward and Sherlock was off the sofa and between him and John before Lestrade could blink. "Whoa!" Harkness said, freezing. "I'm not here to hurt anyone. I'm hoping you can help me."

"I vouch for him," Lestrade found himself saying. He wasn't entirely sure why, but somehow he seemed to have come to a decision.

Sherlock didn't look at him. "Do you now? That's intriguing. Do you know what he is?"

Harkness shrugged. "I'm Torchwood. That's what matters here and now."

John sat down in his chair, obviously prepared to wait for things to make sense. Probably a good habit to get into if you lived with Sherlock. Lestrade leaned against a wall and crossed his arms. He'd done his bit, let Harkness take it from here.

Sherlock continued to glare. "What do you want from me?"

"To identify the aliens infiltrating the government so that I can capture them."

Into the silence that followed, a pin drop would have sounded like a firecracker. Speaking of which, Lestrade thought...

"What?" John almost-yelled. "Are you out of your mind?"

Sherlock sat back down on the sofa and stuck his legs out. "Well, at least you had the good sense to tell me what you believe is the truth. I'd have tossed you out for anything else."

"The tr-" John stared at Sherlock, then at Harkness, then turned to Lestrade. "You too?"

"I have it on good authority," Lestrade said carefully, "that this man isn't crazy."

"Actually," Harkness said, "I don't think he said that. Just that I'm telling the truth."

"Pardon me if I'm not reassured."

"I just like to be clear about these things."

"Right." Lestrade banged his head against the wall behind him a few times.

"But even if I believe you, I don't see what concern it is of mine," Sherlock said.

"Look," Harkness said, holding up the leather case, "let me show you some video. That will explain better than anything else."

"Fine," Sherlock said, pouting slightly.

Harkness opened the case, pulling out a small computer. "These aliens have figured out a way to block every scanning system we've got. And my tech genius...well, she was killed last year."

Lestrade got a look at Harkness' face as he said that and he caught his breath. For just a moment, the laughing flirting man had been replaced by someone colder. Someone older.

Harkness went on as the computer booted up. "The only way we can be sure if we've found one is a blood test, but it's not like we can test every civil servant and member of Parliament. We need someone who can tell us who to test." He flipped the computer around to face them and clicked a key.

The screen lit up with a view of a group of men and a few women milling about on a stage, handing papers back and forth, and gradually settling into seats. "One of these people turned out to be an alien. We discovered it by accident."

After about 30 seconds, Sherlock threw his hands in the air. "What in the world do you need me for? It's so obvious, a child of five could figure it out."

"Fetch me a child of five," Lestrade murmured. Harkness shot him a grin.

Sherlock looked around the room. "Surely you can see...can't you?" They all stared blankly back at them. "The woman in the blue dress, the way she moves, the way she sits on that chair...utterly wrong." They all kept staring at him. "Good god, you're thick."

Lestrade coughed. "He's right, I assume. Rude, but right?"

Harkness snapped the computer shut and tucked it away. "He is. The only other person who has managed the same feat is Mycroft."

"So bring in my brother." Sherlock flung himself across the sofa.

"He's...otherwise occupied." Harkness coughed, looking embarrassed.

"Who did we invade?" Sherlock asked. "Wait, don't tell me, I don't really care."

"Sherlock," John and Lestrade said.

Lifting his head, Sherlock stared between them. "Not both of you now."

Lestrade nodded to John, who went on. "If someone is infiltrating the government, then surely-"

"Maybe they'll do a better job."

"Sherlock!" John said.

With a great huff of annoyance, he sat up. "Fine. If only to keep all of you from pestering me. I assume you have some kind of plan?"

"Not a very clever one, I'm afraid," Harkness said, spreading his hands.

John sighed. "Well, at least you'll get some exercise then." Everyone looked at him. "What? He's just going to walk around various buildings and tell you who to arrest, right?"

Lestrade coughed into his fist and Harkness paused. "Well, yes, that's about it."

Shaking his head, John stood. "Why does everybody think I'm an idiot? Can I at least come along? Otherwise he's going to be grabbing your aliens by the shoulder and asking them questions."

There was one of those sudden bustles that happens when a bunch of people are all getting ready to leave, including people going up and down stairs and hollering instructions at each other. Lestrade kept his position against the wall, feeling oddly put out.

As they started out the door, Harkness turned. "Aren't you coming?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sure Mycroft's already provided a cover story for why you're not at work today." Harkness waved a hand. "C'mon, are you really going to miss this?"

Shaking his head at his own folly, Lestrade followed.

hr

Sherlock was trying to look bored and blasé, but he couldn't help bouncing his knee as he stared out the window. Lestrade and John grinned at each other as Harkness wove his way through traffic.

They started, as Lestrade had assumed, in Westminster Palace.

"Get the big boys first," Harkness murmured.

"Don't we need, ah, permission before we wander around?" John asked.

"Not with me, you don't."

Lestrade tensed as they approached security, but everyone nodded to Harkness and waved them in. "You really are just a bit scarier than Mycroft, aren't you?"

"You have no idea," Harkness said. He whipped out a futuristic looking handheld computer and a prosaic pen and looked at Sherlock. "Just say the word and men with very large guns will descend and take them away."

Sherlock smirked and Lestrade sighed. "Is this really a good idea?"

"No," Harkness said. "It's a terrible idea, but it's the only one I've got. It's also the only one people smarter than me have got. So here we go."

And so began one of the most surreal journeys of Lestrade's life-which, considering he'd chased criminals around London with Sherlock Holmes, was saying a lot. They wandered up and down the halls of Westminster, Harkness leading them in a wild discussion that ranged around the political spectrum as Sherlock glanced at everyone they passed, occasionally muttering something to Harkness.

The pace set was just short of running, which made sense once Lestrade thought about it. They had a lot of ground to cover and once those men with guns descended, word was going to get around.

A chill went through him when it came home to him that this wasn't a lark. Something about the ridiculous story had kept him laughing until now but...aliens. Possibly dangerous. Well, presumably dangerous if they were infiltrating the government. And he was walking about with the only man in London who could detect them.

Lestrade suddenly wished he carried a gun.

hr

They were through Westminster and on to Whitehall faster than Lestrade could have imagined.

"We can't possibly get them all," he said softly to Harkness as they rounded a corner, Sherlock's eyes taking in everything.

"No."

"But..."

"I said it wasn't a great plan. And it isn't. Have you got a better idea?"

Lestrade fell silent, moving up to flank Sherlock a little more closely. John gave him a nod and Harkness began another conversation about submarines in the Mediterranean.

Up and down endless corridors, past endless cubicles and offices, only occasional glimpses of sunlight, until Lestrade started to wonder which circle of hell this was. He couldn't imagine how Sherlock was still seeing anything, as all the faces had started to look alike and even clothing all looked beige.

They were on building number four-or maybe it was five?-when Lestrade turned ever so slightly to the left instinctively. He could feel in his bones that everyone was looking somewhere else, as a nondescript man in a nondescript suit pulled a small something out of his pocket and pointed it at them.

There wasn't time to shout, just enough time to tackle Sherlock at the knees in a half-remembered rugby move. They went down in a crash, to the accompaniment of gunfire and something that sounded like a bad science fiction movie. Harkness was shouting and Lestrade was trying to crawl on top of Sherlock to protect him, but Sherlock pushed him off. They rolled on the scratchy carpeting until they could both sit up.

The area was rapidly clearing out, except for Harkness and John, who were both pointing guns at the nondescript man, who was now lying on the ground. Bleeding pale pink.

Harkness had put in an earpiece at some point and was barking orders out. When a swarm of soldiers came in, he stepped back, lowering his gun. Turning, he looked at Lestrade. "Since I know you were wondering...ithat/i is why I brought you along. Well done."

Lestrade managed a nod. "You weren't joking about a blood test, then," he said as he caught his breath. Harkness smiled before turning to talk to the soldiers.

John tucked the gun he absolutely positively did not have away and hurried over. "Are either of you hurt?" he asked, eyeing both of them.

"Only in my dignity," Sherlock said in a huff.

"Dignity?" Lestrade snorted and decided it was time to stand up. "I think your dignity was permanently destroyed years ago. Maybe you had it surgically removed?" He resolutely did not groan as he levered himself up.

"How humorous." Sherlock rolled to his feet with significantly more grace.

John sighed. "Say thank you to the nice inspector. He did save your life, after all."

"That's what he was here for." Sherlock stalked over to look at the body before it was removed.

Lestrade looked at John. "Typical."

"Well, thank you," John said.

"You're welcome." Lestrade looked at Sherlock, alive and well, and decided it hadn't been a bad day's work after all.

hr

Shortly thereafter, Harkness hustled them all off to the SUV. "By a strange coincidence, at least 100 civil servants suddenly developed illnesses that required them to go home this afternoon," he said as they drove toward Baker Street.

"Still," Lestrade said, "that should take care of the problem for now, right?"

"Yeah, they'll have to come up with another approach and hopefully we'll have our tech upgraded by then." Craning his head around, he looked at Sherlock. "You'll let me know if you notice anything strange, though?"

John elbowed Sherlock. "Yes, he will. No, he will not investigate himself. Because if he does, I iwill/i call Mycroft."

"Hmmph," Sherlock said.

Lestrade leaned back in his seat and grinned out the window. London looked nice in the afternoon sun.

They all hopped out of the car at 221, but John barely managed a handshake before Sherlock was dragging him inside, mumbling something about research. Lestrade watched them go, shaking his head and wondering what was going to happen at the next crime scene.

"Sure I can't, oh, drive you home?" Harkness said, leaning against the side of the SUV. Lestrade turned, noting that the other man was looking very handsome indeed. "Drive you home and join you inside? I do so love policemen."

"And I can't stand smartasses."

"Oh, my a-"

"Ah ah!" Lestrade held up a hand in protest. "Whatever you were going to say, just don't." He sighed. "Can you back up all the innuendo?"

Harkness' chin came up and he stepped forward until they were only a breath apart. "I can." He reached out a finger and gently lifted Lestrade's chin, brushing a kiss across his lips. "I really can."

Ignoring Sherlock staring out the window, Lestrade smiled. "Then I suppose you can drive me home."

"Do I get to grope you in the car too?"

"If you must." Lestrade gave him his best long-suffering sigh.

Harkness threw his head back and laughed. And he did indeed grope Lestrade in the car.

hr

"I don't suppose I could interest you in a move to Cardiff."

"No thank you. I've had enough aliens. London and murders and Sherlock Holmes are enough excitement for me."

"You sure? You've got the instincts."

"I'm sure. I belong in London. Now come over here and do that again."

"That?"

"Oh yeah."

-end-

***