EAD: Tony Moves to London


Evil Author Day Master Post

Tony Moves to London



The below work is an offering for Evil Author Day 2020. These stories are incomplete, and very much rough drafts. There will be spelling errors, missing commas, bad grammar, incomplete thoughts, and plot holes to name only a few issues. There is NO guarantee any of them will be finished, or that the finished product won’t undergo massive changes. Do NOT bug for more, beg for details, or any other such nonsense, please and thank you.


Pairings: Tony DiNozzo/? Tony DiNozzo & Sherlock Holmes Friendship

Warnings: Tony Leaves NCIS.

Notes: I am not 100% on Sherlock Canon so this may be non-canon compliant. Sherlock is based on the Benedict Cumberbatch. There isn’t much here. Just the start of an idea, but I like it enough that I am not ready to give up on it yet. In this story Q from James Bond is a Paddington and Tony’s cousin.

Summary: Tony leaves NCIS and moves to England to reconnect with his mother’s family. While there, he meets Sherlock Holmes and starts a fascinating friendship.



Tony was sitting in the Paddington Street Gardens in London people watching. He’d recently left NCIS and on impulse headed to London to see if there was any chance of connecting with his mother’s family. It was more an act of desperation than anything. His mother, while an alcoholic who seemed to have no understanding of what a child needed, had really been the only person he’d ever felt true love from. It was his hope when left DC that maybe he could find something of the love he’d received from her from her family.

There had been plenty of reasons for him be upset with them for what seemed as abandonment after she died, but he was old enough and maybe in enough need that it didn’t seem to matter to him any longer. After all, they hadn’t completely deserted him. He’d had help from his Uncle Clive in college, when Senior refused to let him use his trust fund for college expenses. Unfortunately, something must have happened, and not long after lending him the money, all contact ceased, and Tony was once more left on his own.

Fortunately, his mother’s family had opened themselves to him and made a place for his entrance into their lives. Mostly, led by his Aunt Isabella who seemed to be everything he’d ever dreamed a mother was. A great deal of it things he’d never gotten from his own mother and wasn’t that an awkward conversation to have with them. It wasn’t just because she’d died when he was young that he didn’t expect or even tolerate things other children received from their mothers. That had been a long heavy conversation that left them all pale and shaken chasing shadows in their own minds.

The next morning, his Uncle George, who was the Marquess of Montagu, led Tony to George’s study, and they’d had a talk where Tony had been sure would be his Uncle giving him his walking papers. Instead there had been apologies for not listening to Clive and holding grudges because stubborn little sisters hadn’t listened to the advice of more worldly older brothers. It seems that Senior had been a scoundrel even in his youth, and George, whom Tony was coming to understand did more than just putter around the castle or at least did at one time, had been much too experienced in reading people not to see the writing on the wall.

George apologized for looking at a boy who looked so much like the father who helped create him and assuming that the apple hadn’t fallen anywhere but straight down to the base of the tree. Which led to Tony’s reflexive mutter, “Rule # 6.” This led to an explanation of the Gibbs’ Rules list and what Rule #6 was along with the rest that Tony knew.

“What rubbish,” George spat back with a scowl, “only a coward doesn’t apologize when he’s wrong.”

“So, the DiNozzo Rules then,” Tony responded absently as he turned over the notion in his head that he wasn’t the only one that thought some of his mentors’ rules were stupid.

“Your father has a rule about apologizing?” George asked somewhat shocked and Tony blinked, mentally rewinding the conversation before making a face and answering.

“Ahh, as far as I know no. I was referring to my rules. Rule #10 is ‘It’s ok to say you’re sorry. Only assholes think otherwise’.”

That had drawn him a snort and a nod of approval with some prompting to give his own list as well, which drew an outright bark of laughter once he got to Rule #9, which was ‘Never ask a girl her weight on the first date’. There was a sage nod accompanied by a twinkle in his eyes that Tony recognized at Rule #15: Superglue is an authorized form of punishment. Rule #18, which was TEAM functions need to involve the whole TEAM. If it doesn’t, then it isn’t a TEAM function.’ drew a narrow of his eyes as the older man recognized a rule made out of a life experience. Which meant Tony had to explain Ziva’s horrid dinner party that Tony was excluded from, and then an explanation of how in the hell a Mossad Agent was put on an investigative team. By the time he was done, his Uncle looked equal parts horrified and angry, and Tony’s suspicions of his Uncle’s work activities was building into a solid picture rapidly.

Fortunately, from there the conversation had moved more into Tony’s work, and he’d spent some time telling his Uncle stories, or at least the parts that weren’t confidential, about his time with the various PD’s and NCIS. The question of what Tony was planning to do now had been met with a shrug and a sigh.

“I’m too young to retire, but too old to keep having to start over. I thought NCIS was it, but well… for reasons I can’t go into it isn’t. On top of things I’ll be honest and say that I’m leery of trusting quite a few of the American Intelligence Agencies. NCIS is obviously out as I just left there. The FBI likes to accuse me wrongfully of murder too much. So, despite how much Tobias Fornell would love to have me, if for no other reason than he could rub it in Gibbs’ face, they’re out. The CIA fucking blew up my car, and still hasn’t dealt with that asshole Trent Kort. So, they’re out. I can make my way around computers, and better than my team things, but I don’t want to do that all day. So, the NSA is mostly out. Although I’ll be honest I don’t really fully understand what they do. I suppose I could go to Morrow at Homeland. He’d take me too. If I had to stay in the States, I’d probably end up there. I just…”

“You just,” George prompted with his body language giving his interest in the answer away just a little too much for someone as good at reading people as Tony was. It was something else that added to the list of questions about what his Uncle had done for a living.

“I’m not sure I want to return to the States to do anything but pack up my shit and move somewhere. The thing is though that I don’t really know where else I could go. I was kinda hoping that maybe…”

“Maybe?” George prompted again gently when Tony paused too long.

“Maybe England would be home?” Tony finished in a rush, feeling more like a child than he did maybe even when he was a child. “I don’t know what I could do here though. It isn’t like I hold citizenship, and I would imagine that any position I would want and qualify for would require that.”

George just hummed before sitting back in his chair. “You never know, dear boy. I am sure something will come up. In the meantime, please feel free to stay. I know that Isabella has offered you a room in her home. She’s been lonely since Ashcroft moved out, and that idiot Crispin turned his back on her, on us all really, when he didn’t get Clive’s money. However, Olivia would skin me alive if I didn’t ensure that you were aware you have a place here as well. At some point, things will settle down with the children and we’ll have them all come to visit. Ash is a good boy, so I am sure you’ll meet him before then if you stay with Isabella. The others and my brother Stephen will be gathered at some point. They’re all quite busy with their work. I want to make sure you hear the words though… You are wanted here Tony. I am sorry we saw you as nothing more than your father’s clone. We want to move past that though and have you as part of this family, if you’ll have us?”

Tony couldn’t imagine a world where he would actually say no to that question.

George had been correct. Tony chose to stay with Isabella, and quickly met Ash who was summoned home for a Sunday dinner. Tony had shyly asked if he could cook for the three of them, and then set about making his finest Italian feast. Cooking, he’d explained to his Aunt as she perched at the island to watch him, was something that he’d learned in the kitchens at the manor he grew up in before getting shipped off to boarding school after his mother died. Then, once at school, he hadn’t been good at making friends, so, he had tended to hang out in the kitchens there as well. Especially during the summer and holidays where he was one of only a handful of children who didn’t have homes to go to. While he hated most of the teachers and students, the kitchens had felt like home and thus he’d developed a tight bond with the various cooks in the many schools he’d been thrown in.

As a child he’d always been blamed for having to change schools. As an adult though, and knowing more about his father’s activities, he knew it was most likely because the scam ran out and Senior couldn’t afford the bill. Thus, he moved his son to some place new where he could run a new con and shove his kid at some unsuspecting schlup to raise. It was no wonder that Tony had been a sullen and angry teenager by the time he’d gotten to Remington Military Academy and acting up. He was desperate for someone who mattered to pay some kind of attention to him and give some indication that anyone in the world gave a shit.

With a shake of his head, Tony drew his mind away from a past he didn’t want to go over again, and ruthlessly shoved the memories back into their box. Looking around, he noticed a man sitting not too far away studying him. By what the man was wearing, Tony guessed that he was trying to blend in with the homeless population of London, and maybe to people more inexperienced than Tony it would be believable. For someone who understood undercover work, and people in general, as well as Tony did, though, it was obvious the man wasn’t actually homeless.

Glancing around them, Tony ensured that no one else had noticed the man, not wanting to break his cover, then turned his attention back. When he did, he saw that the man had realized he had been caught and was making his way over.

“What gave me away?” The man asked abruptly, sitting down on the bench next to Tony. “It is vital I have this information. I must know where I went wrong.”

Cocking his eyebrow and nor managing to keep a smile off his face very well, Tony turned slightly to study the man now that he was closer. “You’re too new looking, and you’re not wide eyed and scared looking enough to actually be a newly homeless person. While you are dirty, your skin isn’t weathered enough to have been out in the elements all day. While you smell of booze, you aren’t actually drunk despite the air you were trying to give off. My guess is you haven’t drunk a drop of the stuff. Your fingernails and shoes are both really what did it. Both are much to neat and clean for you to actually be homeless.”

“Bugger,” the man uttered as he scowled at Tony as if it was his fault the man had been caught.

“So, who are you spying on?” Tony asked as he leaned back on the bench again and began studying the park around them. “And are you some crazy stalker? Because if you are, I’m afraid I can’t keep your secret.”

“What makes you think I’m not on some official investigation?” The man asked more intrigued than incensed at having his ruse so thoroughly unraveled.

Tony let loose a laugh as he tried to imagine this man actually working for an Intelligence Agency, then admitted to himself that he’d be better than Ziva. So, maybe it wasn’t so ludicrous of an idea. “If you were from Scotland yard or one of the British Intelligence Agencies you’d have backup that would be over here by now, or you should if they’re any real kind of cops. Thus, you’re either some kind of private investigator or you’re a creepy stalker.”

“I am a consulting detective,” the man advised frankly, “I should have stayed away if I am so easily seen.”

“To be fair, I’m pretty good at what I do, or did I suppose these days. I highly doubt that many would be able to catch you out. Who are you staying away from?” Tony inquired turning to look at the man again. Now that the gentleman was up close, Tony noticed that he was fairly pretty for a man. He was definitely intrigued, and by more than the puzzle of what was going on.

“My brother and my friend John Watson,” the man admitted before turning Tony’s direction. “I underestimated how dangerous one of my foes was, and I had to fake my death to keep them safe. I should have stayed abroad, but I wanted to make sure they were still doing well.”

“It’s hard to completely cut those ties to the people you care about,” Tony agreed growing more intrigued by the puzzle picture forming in his mind. He never could resist helping someone, and this man obviously needed help. “Who was your foe?”

“James Moriarty,” the man murmured as he studied Tony openly again. “You are something of a conundrum yourself. I would not have guessed that you were an America if you had not spoken. I must be slipping.”

“Well, to be fair, we are in my family’s park. I though I should dress for the occasion. I didn’t want to look like a tourist and embarrass Auntie Isabella. She’s been awfully kind to me.” Tony admitted, and cocked his head to one side at the man’s open shock.

“You’re a Paddington? I thought I knew them all. Wait, you are Claire’s son. Impressive, indeed. I understood that he was something of a rascal like his father, but you seem to be quite pleasant and much too moral to be a ne’er-do-well.”

Tony had long ago given up on trying to hide his pleasure in the conversation, and openly smiled at the so-called Consulting Detective. “Yes, I am Claire’s son. How did you know? I came to England recently to try and connect with my mother’s family. America doesn’t seem to be the place for me any longer. I’d like to help you with your problem, if I could. I have the time on my hands. By the way, my cousin Ashcroft is coming this way if you don’t want to be caught.”

“Bloody hell,” the man swore as he stood to leave. “I don’t know why you would help a stranger, and I hate to drag anyone else into this. However, you are possibly the last person that anyone would suspect helping me. I should discourage you, but I can already see that you’re going to do it anyway. Just don’t mention my name to Q, please. Don’t look for me. I will find you.”

Then, before Tony could say anything, the man hurried off. Tony wasn’t sure how he would tell this Q person who the man was since he’d never given his name but was too amused to be aggravated. When his cousin showed up, he was still looking in the direction the man had hurried off in smiling.

“Well someone’s pleased,” Ash pointed out, and Tony just gave a shrug.

“Just people watching. Say, you wouldn’t happen to know where I could get a good laptop where I can do research for some old cases of mine on do you? I’d prefer something with secure connection capabilities since I may have to access NCIS’ systems.”

Ashcroft cocked an eyebrow but didn’t question the request. Instead he just gave a nod and mentioned he had something at home Tony could use. So, standing he followed his younger cousin off. His mind already working on the puzzle of the mystery man and this James Moriarty.


~*~~*~ ~*~~*~ ~*~~*~


While Tony wasn’t a computer expert, he wasn’t quite the novice, hunt and pecker that he let his coworkers believe. He might never be on the same level as McGee and Abby, but he knew enough to know when someone was trying to downplay their skills. When his cousin tried to tell him that computers were just a hobby, Tony knew bullshit when he heard it. Between his years with Tim and Abby and the numbers of times hed spent in MTAC he knew advanced technology when he saw it. He was also used to people spying on him, again thanks to Abby and McGee. The two liked to snoop through his shit, and once he figured it out, Tony made a game of it. He figured it was better to let them think they were getting away with something than to call them out on it and have them go to a different route that he wasn’t familiar with.

So, when his borrowed laptop began moving more sluggish and acting weird, he was familiar with the actions and knew what was going on. Tony was dying to find out just who his cousin worked for and what he did, but a part of him was afraid to find out. Call it a hangover from Senior, but Tony was a little afraid to find out his Paddington family wasn’t as on the up and up as he thought they were. So far none of them had done anything to remind him of Senior and his slick and slimy friends but one never knew. There were all different classes and kinds of criminals and the Paddingtons could hyst be on the more sophisticated level.

Or, they could totally be on the opposite side the spectrum playing in the same sandbox that Tony was.

It was the second option that the former SFA was hoping for. He wasn’t quite comfortable enough yet to ask though so for the time being he was letting Ash see what Tony wanted him to see and using the DiNozzo network for everything else.

The second he decided to investigate this Moriarty person, Tony figured some space between himself and his Aunt were needed. Having no idea how serious this guy’s criminal activities were but given his new friend had gone into hiding figured that they were on the “fuck this is bad level” at least. Therefore, he knew he had to do whatever was necessary to separate himself from his Aunt specifically and the rest of the family as he could. Of course, he wasn’t able to make a clean break.

When his Uncle George heard that Tony wanted to spend some time in London by himself sightseeing and just generally getting his head screwed on straight the older man insisted that he use one of the family’s residences. It wasn’t really what Tony was wanting, but he didn’t have any other excuses that he could use without feeling like he was being ungrateful. He just had to hope that the laptop was the extent of their surveillance and that they didn’t have the townhouse bugged as well. So, with a gracious smile he accepted the offered residence on Baker street and hoped for the best.

The first thing he’d done after getting settled in was to buy a burner phone and made some calls to his contacts. It didn’t take very long before he realized that James Moriarty was one seriously scary criminal. Definitely not the kind that he wanted to expose his Aunt to, or even hunt down on his own without backup. He’d been debating going out and buying a new laptop that wouldn’t be watched. The problem with that though was that he didn’t have the kind of skills needed to be confident he could find a laptop with the kind of power and such that he’d need to run the various programs he needed.

With a few calls and some sweet talking, Tony managed to gain himself restricted access to Homeland, the CIA, and Interpol. He’d racked up quite a lot of favors over the years, and it seemed that once Moriarty’s name was dropped, Tony’s high-level contacts were more than happy to help him join the hunt. Morrow especially was pleased and made it clear to his former agent just what morons he thought NCIS were for letting him get away.


Note: If this story is completed, this post will be deleted without warning.

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