Downton Abbey 1. A Foreword and the Prologue

**A/N:** So, this is the first NaNoWriMo story I've ever written, _and_ published to FanFiction. I first entered NaNoWriMo two years ago, in 2010, and have been hooked with writing stories for the internationally know National Novel Writing Month competition since. This story is also the first modernised AU (Alternative Universe) Downton Abbey story I've ever written. And now, for a foreword from me and the Prologue.

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**Foreword**

Strange, isn't it, how some of the most unseemly television shows can inspire you to write? I've been an avid fan of "Downton Abbey" ever since my mother, father and aunt bullied me into watching the entire first series on DVD, which my aunt had brought with her when we were on holiday in Cornwall this year. She literally sat me in the tent, rain or shine, and made me watch the entire first series.

Now, I've always been a bit of a romantic at heart; getting me to watch "Downton Abbey" only heightened that sense of heart, especially since I could read between the lines of any coupling that was mildly stated in the "Harry Potter" series. So, naturally, I could sense that Anna and Bates were meant to be together, and that Branson's feelings for Sybil was "love at first sight" ever since he met her – properly, that is.

This book, or story – whichever – was inspired by the storyline of the new James Bond movie, "Skyfall" – in fact, as I write this foreword, I am listening to the song Adele wrote and sang for the movie, coincidentally called "Skyfall". The movie was just amazing. I went to see it on the first of November, actually, the day NaNoWriMo started. My father launched it on me, it was rather shocking, really – he comes up into my room, and tells me, "Get off that laptop and get ready to go out. We're going to see Skyfall, the new Bond movie." I love my family dearly, but they really do find the most… inopportune moments to tell me when we're going out!

Not only that, but the story was also inspired by the "Power of 5" series, Anthony Horowitz's newest book series to date, the "Artemis Fowl" series by Eoin Colfer, and "Goodnight, Mr Tom", by Michelle Magorian. Now, everyone should have heard of "Goodnight, Mr Tom", being as it was made into a very emotional movie quite a few years back now.

This has probably been the longest foreword I've ever written for any story I've ever created. So I'm sorry if I've bored you all! I'm not much of a "foreword" person, if you know what I mean – wink, wink!

…You don't get it, do you? No, didn't think so… my attempts at making a joke are lost on you…

_Bingo the Cat, a NaNoWriMo participant for three years._

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**PROLOGUE**

_~Based off the song "This is War" by 30 Seconds to Mars~_

His head swam as he made his woozy way to the exits; the bar was packed full, and security was tight. However, with a simple flash of his ID card, the guards let him pass to get to his car. The silver Mercedes Benz slunk forward, the chauffeur in front hopping out to open the car door for the man. He hit his head twice before finally climbing in.

Now on the road back to his house, the man had time to ponder on his motives for being at the bar that evening. Sure, it was to drown his sorrows away after the most beautiful girl he'd ever known had rejected his marriage proposal and announced that she was having an affair with someone else… but it wasn't even just that. In fact, he had no idea why else he'd been at the pub. Had he been… hiding from someone? The man scoffed – him, scared and hiding away? Absolute nonsense!

Larry Grey sighed, and ran a shaking hand through his hair; how could the perfect, dearest Sybil Crawley be seeing anyone else? It just wasn't fair! Throughout all of this, neither he nor the chauffeur noticed the sleek, black Ford Mondeo Ghia speeding up behind them, ready to ram.

The next thing the delightfully drunk man registered was the impact of the cars hitting one another, the sound of glass shattering and the feeling of something warm and sticky on his hand as he touched the protruding piece of debris from the car that had lodged in his chest. The man driving the Mondeo stepped forward, heavy boots crunching over the glass that littered the road. The click of a revolver brought Larry back to the present.

"What… what are you doing with that?" Not a second later, a harsh cry was ripped from his throat as a bullet tore its way through his chest, through his lung. He struggled to breathe, as the mystery man with the gun walked away. He sat himself against the remains of the Mercedes, and flinched as he gently prodded the shot wound. Another short, sharp cry was torn from him as his vision swam and blackened in front of him.

* * *

The police station was in chaos – literal, utter chaos.

Charles Carson was ordering different men about, trying to sort out the huge amount of paperwork left for him to complete, filing away any witness statements to the murder of Larry Grey. Twice he had been approached by the subject of his family life and whether he was sleeping properly, since he had hardly left the office since the investigation started, and both times he had snapped back that he was fine.

But things _weren't_ fine; his family – or at least, his surrogate family – was torn up over the death of the young man that had recently been rejected for marriage by the youngest daughter of the ninth Earl of Grantham, and he hadn't been sleeping properly – duty calls, as he had reminded his Lordship several times since the death had come to light.

Suddenly, and without warning, the front doors to the building were blasted off their hinges; men in black uniforms and bullet-proof vests swarmed into the corridors. One of the younger, female office staff started screaming, creating a chorus. The sound of a gunshot into the air silenced them all.

A single man stepped forward, his face hardened by years of obvious service to the Queen and his country. His brown eyes betrayed no inner turmoil; he was a book that couldn't be read without damaging your innocence. Silently, he practically _swaggered _ into the foyer, gun held innocently at his side, but prepped to shoot once more if needs be.

His voice was quiet as he asked with sheer gall and bravery, and a strange determination, too, "Who's in charge around here?"

Charles stepped forward, and cleared his throat; the younger man's head snapped around to look at him, and he raised a delicate, black eyebrow. The elder man coughed again, and said in reply to the man's question, "I am the leading police officer of this unit, Sir. May I ask who you are, and what your business here is?"

Sniggers arose from the group of men in black uniforms, with their guns; but the leading man silenced them with a look. Turning back to Charles, he smiled in what seemed to be friendly greeting. "I'm Bates, John Bates. I'm employed in the British Secret Service, agent under number zero, zero, zero, nine. And MI6 are taking over this investigation."

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**A/N:** So, whaddya think? Good? Bad? Like/love it? Dislike/hate it? Let me know by leaving a constructive comment below!


	2. Chapter I: Crawley

**A/N: **Here's Chapter One, folks! Hope you enjoy it!

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**Chapter One**

_~Based off the song "If I Could Be Like That" by 3 Doors Down~_

The entire police station was in silence – complete and utter silence.

Charles stared at Agent 0009, who was looking around the building with interest. How dare he barge in here, and declare that the Secret Service were taking over _their_ investigation! How dare he!

Almost as if he was reading Charles' mind, John Bates chuckled. "Sorry about the raucous entrance. But the dogs do love a good run out." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the silent soldiers, as Charles now recognised them, who gave a nod to the back of their boss. Bates stepped over the debris of the doors, and invited himself into Charles' office. He looked around in admiration. "Well, isn't this cosy?"

And, without warning, he grabbed one of the remaining policemen that were actually standing to attention, and shoved him up against the wall. Thomas Barrow yelped in surprise, and a little in fear as Bates' handheld gun pressed up against the underside of his chin. He swallowed nervously as Bates snarled, "Now, I'm going to ask you once, sir, and only once – think you can get the folders for the investigation for me? Because if you refuse…" Nothing was said; just the click that indicated the release of the safety catch on the handheld was heard.

Barrow scampered further into the office, over to Charles' desk, where the files innocently sat, with the handheld trained on him the entire time. His hands shaking, the man handed the thick folders over to Bates, who was passed a briefcase by one of the soldiers. The click of the lock on the case indicated that he wasn't to be argued with.

Charles bristled indignantly; once he told his Lordship of the invasion on _their_ territory, this Bates fellow would have to answer to him. Then he'd be in trouble. Barrow was still edging around the edge of the room, trying to get away from the end of the gun that the agent was still pointing at him.

"Please don't move. If you do, I'll be sorely tempted to actually shoot you." To emphasise his point, Bates aimed the gun in the air again, and shot a can of beer down from a shelf. It exploded in its shell. Barrow swallowed nervously, but stood still. Bates gave a wry smile. "There. Much better."

That did it. Charles snapped.

"Excuse me, _sir_, but I don't think the secret service has any part to play in this investigation! This is an investigation going on in a small rural town, and you and your dogs' come barging in, demanding that we hand over the files for it? Absolutely not!" Bates merely raised an eyebrow at the chief, clearly not perturbed by his speech. Charles ignored him, however, and railed on. "Downton has been at peace for many years, ever since the seventh Earl restored peace to the town after some financial problems faced rather poorly by the sixth Earl. When I tell his Lordship, he'll–"

But Charles didn't get to finish, for Bates had held up his empty hand, telling him to stop. By this time, the policeman was fuming. He squared his jaw, ready for any bombardment of questions.

"Would his Lordship happen to be a certain Robert Crawley, who used to work in the army with a batman who then left for the Secret Service?"

Charles' jaw dropped. "H- how would you know that, sir?" He hadn't expected anything like that – in fact, it was almost unusual for someone to talk of his Lordship's time of service to the army during the war in Afghanistan.

Bates gave another wry smile. "Ironic, isn't it? Did his Lordship ever tell you the name of the batman who saved his life?" Charles gave a single shake of his head, which prompted a surprised chuckle from the agent. He pointed at himself. "This guy saved Robert Crawley's arse from being blown off the planet at war." To prove that he was telling the truth, Bates sat down in a relatively undamaged chair, and hoisted the leg of his jeans up, over his ankle, up to his knee…

"Oh my God," Barrow muttered in the corner; Charles paid no heed to him, as he stared at the criss-crossing white scars that were littered all over Bates' knee, the only piece of flesh left on his lower leg – he'd obviously had his limb amputated after he'd been injured, unable to face the shame of using a cane. The man winced as it obviously throbbed in pain, and he smoothed the leg of his jeans back down over the scarred joint. Charles looked as though he was going to be sick, with his white cheeks tinged green. Bates stared up at Charles.

"So now you see? I think you should all be bloody thanking me for taking over, what with my own… _past experience_," he said delicately. Charles walked around to the other side of his desk, and sat down in the chair, slowly and shakily, never mind the beer that had pooled in the seat. He looked Bates in the eye; he opened his own mouth to speak, and–

"What, in the name of God, Earth and Heaven happened here?!"

–Never mind.

Bates' head snapped around, and he held a hand over his handheld that rested in the waistband of his trousers. However, once he saw who it was, his eyes widened in surprise. He stood from his chair, and smirked at the man stood in the doorway, who looked shell-shocked. "I didn't know you made weekly rounds to the police station, Rob."

The man gasped. "Bates?" His own eyes widened in recognition. "Bates, my dear fellow!" He stepped forward, and clapped the agent on the shoulder, before wrapping the man in a brotherly hug. Bates returned it unsurely, but quickly settled into the friendly embrace as he thumped Robert Crawley on the back. The Earl released him soon after, grinning broadly at his old friend; they stepped apart, and Robert set about guiding Bates towards his family, outside the station.

"You know, it's so good to see you again, Bates. I really do owe you for saving my life in Afghanistan," he said quietly to the agent, and guided him to the tarnished entrance of the police station. He paused, however, when Bates winced and clutched the edge of the desk in the reception area, his knee giving him pain once more. Robert placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Bates? What's wrong?"

Bates glanced up at Robert, and forced a smile. "Nothing, Robert. Just a bit sore, is all."

"Well, it obviously isn't just sore." Robert was concerned. "Where's your cane?"

The tips of the younger man's ears reddened; the Earl instantly looked wary. "Bates?" He narrowed his eyes at him, before they widened once more and his mouth dropped open. "Oh, you didn't…"

Bates just gave a small nod, ashamed and not meeting his friend's eyes. Robert's hand dropped to his side, but he soon raised it again, placing two fingers beneath Bates' chin and tilting the man's head so that they could look at each other. The elder passed his tongue over his top lip, and he said quietly, "You know I don't like deceit, Bates, and nor do you. But if you believe you'll be able to work better with your amputated leg, then so be it. But if it starts to hurt," he added as he lead Bates towards his family outside, sending him a reproachful gaze, "You will sit down, and rest. I don't care if you're in the middle of something important, just rest. And if it gets so bad, then I will insist that you go back to using a cane. And sod what your employer and boss say; I couldn't give a damn."

Bates gave a nervous chuckle at Robert's clear disinterest as to what the leader of MI6 would say about him using a cane. The Earl just grinned back at his friend.

* * *

"Thomas tells me the agent was rather arrogant and – dare I say it – cocky with him. Did you hear about this, Gwen?"

The young, red-haired woman shook her head at the young cook in front of her. She looked over at her blonde-haired friend, who was chatting avidly with their mother-figure about something or another. She took longer strides to catch up with Daisy Robinson, when she suddenly stopped dead and pointed into the crowd that was the Crawley family. "That's him, there!" she said in a hushed voice; Gwen had to crane her neck to get a good look at him.

He looked to be in his mid-thirties, perhaps even young enough to be in his late-twenties, with dark brown hair swept – or gelled – back from his face, a few stray strands blowing freely in the breeze. He had a fair covering of stubble on his cheeks, the hints of a moustache on his top lip and the starting of a scraggly beard on his chin and jawline. His eyes, such a deep and gorgeous chocolate-brown, crinkled at the edges as he laughed at whatever it was his Lordship had said to him. He walked with an air of superiority, the slight raise of one delicate black eyebrow indicating that he knew who was boss.

And yet, beneath his superior exterior, there was a man that had seen all and done all, a man that had learned from his experiences in the past and in war, fashioning him into the kind, noble being that he was… despite his apparent cockiness with Mr Carson that morning at the police station.

The Crawley family had migrated over to where they were standing, and the eldest daughter instantly strode over to her friend, wrapping the the journalist in a tight hug. Anna Smith laughed in return, especially so as Mary Crawley spun them around. Elsie Hughes smiled at the sight, whilst Daisy continued ogling at the agent stood with his Lordship.

He sensed the girl's gaze on him, and he turned to stare at the young cook, who instantly dove behind Gwen Dawson to hide and wallow in her embarrassment. Gwen smiled exasperatedly at him, and rolled her eyes. She strode over to him, and – despite Mrs Hughes' gasp of shock and her admonishment – held out her hand for him to shake. "My name's Gwen, Gwen Dawson. I heard about your infamous entrance into the police station from my friend, Thomas." She raised an eyebrow at him as he numbly shook her hand, not expecting her to be so forward. "I do hope you'll forgive him if he's a bit of an arse to you later. And these are my friends," she added, waving her hand in the direction of each one. "Daisy Robinson, who's training to be a cook." Daisy meekly waved hello, flushing bright red. "Elsie Hughes, who runs an orphanage nearby." Mrs Hughes smiled at the agent warmly, giving a small nod of her head and getting a slack salute in return, as well as a cheeky grin. "And Anna Smith, a journalist in my department at the local newspaper, and my best friend since secondary school."

Bates turned to Anna, expecting her to be some ordinary journalist… but he had to stop his jaw from hitting the pavement in shock as he drank her in – rather greedily too, he had to admit to himself. Her blonde hair was tied back in a rather messy and hurried braid, with half her fringe flopping over one of her bright blue eyes, which twinkled in amusement. Her nose had a slight upturn to it at the end, and her lips curled into a grin as she saw him swallow deeply, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He cleared his throat, and shakily held his hand out. "How, uh… how do you do, Anna?"

Robert smirked at his friend's back as the muscles of his shoulders tensed through his thin shirt and jacket; clearly, the man could still sense whenever he was being watched. The Earl just rolled his eyes.

Anna shook Bates' hand, smiling at him. In fact, he surmised in his mind, to finish it all off, she had a pretty blush spreading over her cheeks, accentuating her eyes. He decided that, although he barely knew her, it suited her. She swallowed, too. "Welcome to Downton, Mr…?"

"Bates. John Bates," he said quickly; her lips quirked in amusement.

"Ah! Well, welcome to Downton, Mister Bates!"

Luckily, the high collar of his jacket hid the red flush that had appeared on his throat. Good God, what was happening to him…? Just her voice set him off.

_You're here on official government business, Bates, not to flirt with innocent young girls, now get back to work!_

They quickly dropped hands, and Bates rocked backwards and forwards on the heels of his feet, before Robert broke the awkward silence. "Well, then, Bates, you've met the infamous four. Time to get back to the abbey and sort out where you'll stay whilst you're in Downton!"

_Thank you, Robert. Thank you oh so much…_

* * *

Anna was in a trance at dinner that night; Gwen snapped her fingers in front of her friend's face, and the journalist jumped, startled. Gwen was surprised. "Anna? What the hell's gotten into you? You've never been like this before."

The blood flooded into Anna's cheeks, and she brushed her fringe behind her ear and out of her eyes. The red-haired girl looked into her friend's eyes, frowning. Anna quickly veiled them with her hand, clearly embarrassed. Gwen warily looked at her, before a most unladylike smirk spread over her face. "Anna… do you _like_ the agent?" Anna squeaked a very quick "no". Gwen's smirk intensified. "Yes you do! Yes you do!" She ran her tongue over her top lip, and smirked again, doing her best impression of Anna. "Mist-uh Bates!"

"Gwen, shut _up_!" Anna whined; the redhead just laughed at her friend's embarrassment. Anna glared at Gwen, whose smirk intensified once more.

* * *

"John, do you like Anna?"

Bates was caught completely off-guard. He frowned at Robert, who was nursing a glass of whiskey and looking at the agent with an expression of curiosity. "Well, yes, I suppose I do – I mean, she seems witty, funny, honest… but hidden in there is also some courage, and bravery, and – dare I say it – sassiness, as well." He gave his answer some thought, and added in a good-natured fashion, "She's not too bad on the eyes, either."

Robert rolled his eyes. "You misunderstand me, John. When I say do you like Anna, I mean do you _like_, like Anna?" A red flush instantly spread over his friend's cheeks.

"W-what?! N-no, I don't!"

"Don't worry, Bates," Robert's wife said coolly from her chair by the fireplace, smirking at the flustered agent. "I think Anna would like it if she found out she'd garnered an admirer!" Bates squirmed uncomfortably at the comment, and Robert looked over at Cora Crawley (née Levinson) in an exasperated fashion.

"Cora, please. Don't start," he said quietly. "Besides, we need to discuss what we're going to do for Mary and Matthew's wedding anniversary of one year."

Cora gasped. "One year, already? Oh my, it seems as though it were only yesterday our baby girl was walking down the aisle to Matthew!"

"Mama, I'm not your "baby girl", as you so put it. And it has been one year, so don't fret." Mary strode into the room, her sisters and husband hot on her heels. Matthew Crawley looked approving of Mary's statement, whilst Edith and Sybil sniggered away in the background. Mary glanced at them pointedly, and turned back to her Mama. "Anna was in a trance at dinner, Gwen said. Couldn't understand what was wrong with her at first, before she realised that Miss Smith seemed to, uh… _like_ "The Agent", as Gwen referred to John." The man flushed bright red again. He pointedly pointed something out.

"Err… still in the room…"

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**A/N:** Don't forget to leave a comment down below!


	3. Chapter II: Bacon, Kisses and Laundry

**A/N:** Here's Chapter Two, folks - wow, three chapters in one day! I'm impressed with myself! Enjoy, my fellow Downton (and subsequent Anna/Bates) fans!

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**Chapter Two**

_~Based off the acoustic remix of "Don't You Worry Child" by Swedish House Mafia ft. John Martin, and the song "Believe" by Justin Bieber~_

John hissed in pain, clutching his knee and leaning against the side of the desk that was in the room he'd slept in for the past three weeks. He sat down in the plush desk chair, before spinning to face the offending papers on the worktop, scowling down at them. Three weeks. That's what they reminded him of. Three weeks… and they were still getting nowhere with this damned investigation!

He winced again.

A quiet knock on his door startled him, and he looked around quickly to see Anna entering the room. He felt extremely warm inside.

She smiled at him, him with his messy hair and unbuttoned shirt, spare clothes rumpled and strewn across the room. She giggled inwardly at the sight. She had balanced a breakfast tray on her hip, which in itself was a precarious task – tea-trays and Anna had never gotten along well. The plate was piled high with a generous helping of sausages, bacon, baked beans, garlic mushrooms, fried tomatoes and toast, along with a smaller platter of butter.

"Anna, you're too kind to me, and yet you've only known me for three weeks." She giggled outwardly, and set the tray down on the bed with a small _thwump_ of the sheets. John smiled back at her, running a hand through his already-messy hair. He licked his top lip nervously. Anna looked into his eyes – his gorgeous, chocolaty twinkling eyes – and practically melted inside.

"His Lordship says you're to stay in bed today." John started to protest. "But he's ordered me to keep you company." He stopped his protest dead. She fluttered her eyelashes at him, and giggled at the sight of his Adam's Apple bobbing. "You won't argue with that, will you?"

He numbly sat down on the bed, and pulled the tray onto his lap. Anna sat down on the edge of the mattress as they started to chat.

"Honestly, this assignment's taking longer than I thought it would. Still no leads or anything – we've usually solved the case and are back in London by now." He saw her looking at his bacon, and sighed, smiling. "Yes, you can have my bacon."

* * *

"Robert, when's Bates leaving? I feel very awkward having a secret agent living in my house. What if he was lying and has come to spy on us for the government?"

"What's this?" The couple turned to face Mary, Matthew, Edith and Sybil, who had all entered the room for breakfast; Matthew placed a couple of slices of toast on his plate, as well as an apple, whilst Sybil piled her plate high with sausages, bacon, baked beans, garlic mushrooms, fried tomatoes and toast, as well as placing a small platter of butter to the side. Mary and Edith's jaws dropped to the floor. Sybil looked at her elder sisters, and frowned in amusement.

"What?"

"Sybil… are you sure you're not going down the slippery slope?" Mary asked delicately; Sybil just snorted in reply.

"Of course not! Papa and I decided we'd send John breakfast in bed – besides, he's been getting far too thin. Last time we saw him he was a healthy man; now he's just skin and bones. So no, this isn't for me. Anna," she added, turning to the journalist who was helping Cora plan Mary and Matthew's anniversary celebration; she paused in the doorway, blinking in surprise.

"Yes, Sybil?"

"Could you be a darling and take this up to John? You know where he's staying, right? The guest bedroom closest to my room."

"…Uh, sure."

Sybil placed the loaded plate and platter of butter on a tray, and smiled as Anna took it from her. "You're a star, Anna. Thank you so much."

"And Anna," Robert called out before she left the room; Anna stopped in the doorway, and raised her eyebrows. Robert smiled, too. "Tell John he has to stay in bed today – he must rest. Stay with him and keep him company, too." Anna just nodded, and left the room. The smile dropped from Robert's face, and he sighed, turning back to Cora. "Cora, I wish you would respect John a little more. He's done nothing wrong."

"Papa is right, Mama," Edith chirped in; Mary looked at her as though she were mad, whilst Matthew and Sybil sniggered into their hands. "Besides, you must remember that if it weren't for Mr Bates, Papa wouldn't be here today. He's a noble man, and a fine one at that."

"And," Robert added, "he's like the brother I never had, and you must remember that we did consider – or, I tried to argue you into agreeing – to make John the girls' godfather."

"Papa?!"

Matthew howled with laughter at the look of astonishment on Mary, Edith and Sybil's faces, and the disgruntled expression on Cora's. The Countess just sniffed, and went back to her meagre breakfast of buttered crumpets and a poached egg.

* * *

"…and then I saw the shell coming towards Rob, who was completely oblivious, so I did the only thing I could do – I pushed him out of the way, at the cost of my own leg."

Anna was listening with rapt attention as John retold the story of how he'd gotten his injury; she hadn't flinched when the cool metal of the amputated limb had come into sight, and certainly not when the criss-cross patch of white scars on his knee were made visible from beneath the legs of his brown chinos. In fact, she had gently reached out, and lightly stroked a finger along one of the scars; they had been smooth, instead of rough and callous. He hadn't minded.

It was wrong of her to say that she didn't like him – on the contrary, she liked him an awful lot, more than she thought she could like any man. And the thing was, she didn't just like him. No… she knew it now.

She loved him.

_But of course, he doesn't feel the same way..._

Buried deep in her thoughts, she didn't realise that she had started crying until she felt calloused fingers touch her damp cheek. "Anna? What's wrong?"

Startled, she tried to wipe away the vestiges of the salty tears on her face; but John's hand stopped her from doing more than brushing his fingers. An electric jolt rushed through her, and she jerked forwards, pitching straight into his arms.

_Oh good God… this can't be happening…_

They stared at each other, faces closer than their could have anticipated and bodies pressed flush together. Their eyes were locked, and Anna shuddered as John tried to discern what was wrong with her. His gorgeous brown eyes flickered over her face, stopping on her lips, which she wet nervously with her tongue. He swallowed, and some of his fringe flopped into his face; he flipped it away in irritation, but it made Anna fall more heavily for him.

For his part, John was just as nervous as Anna. He hadn't been this close to a woman since before his time in the war; his previous wife, Vera, had left him for some superstar she had met whilst he was bunged up in hospital, with his gammy leg. He snorted inside. At least she had divorced him beforehand. There was no love lost between him and Vera Tracy. His heart pounded in his chest, and the fine but coarse black hairs on his torso tingled as her breath breezed over his chest, her head ducked. That pretty blush was back. His hand was still on her cheek.

Propriety and care that he was in Robert's house fled him as he titled Anna's face towards him; the look in her eyes left him feeling warmer than ever. He could feel something stirring in his chest, something like love. But… did he really know what love felt like? She stared deep into his eyes, before he broke the trance and his eyes dipped to her lips again.

Some magnetic force pulled them towards each other; their noses brushed, and their lips were almost touching. Their breath ghosted over each other's facial features–

"Anna, John, are you – oh my God!"

The two jumped apart, blushing furiously. Mary stood in the doorway, mouth agape and hands rapidly slacking underneath the pile of clean laundry in her arms. She regained composure, and swallowed, standing there awkwardly. "Well, I guess I'll just, uh… leave you to it, then." She dumped the laundry in the basket by the door, and exited the room. As soon as she was out of earshot, she started to giggle. "Oh, Anna…"

* * *

"Yo, Tommy! Get out from under that bloody car and come hear this!"

Tom Branson, a young man of about twenty five, grumbled as his elder brother called him over; he wiped his oily hands on his overalls, and got up from the floor. He had barely reached the entrance of the garage when Sybil threw herself at him, in hysterical laughter. His eyes widened. "Milady? What on Earth–"

"Oh, Tom, you're not going to believe this!" Tears were threatening to spill from her eyes, and she giggled harder. Kieran Branson was in hysterics, as well. Tom felt like he was missing something.

"Uh… am I missing somethin', here?"

Sybil and Kieran just laughed harder. "It seems that… M-Mary got the shock of her life this morning…" Sybil stuttered through her laughter. "She had gone to take John's clean laundry back to his room, when she… when she found him and Anna…" She couldn't continue, she was laughing so hard.

* * *

Word had travelled around the whole village of what Mary had seen in the guest bedroom the previous morning. People told it to other people with tears in their eyes, who then spread the word like magpies. Sarah O'Brien was the only one of two who didn't find the tale funny – but then, she'd never held the greatest respect for the Crawley family, nor had she held the greatest liking for the perfect journalist Anna Smith. It was because of _her_ that Sarah lost her job in the offices.

She sat in the pub, a glass of cider clutched in her hand and a sour look on her face as Joseph Molesley, a friend of hers who was madly in love with Smith, drowned away his sorrows in a round of Sambuca shots.

The young man behind the bar, William Mason, looked at her from beneath his cap, and smiled wryly. "So… what do you make of this agent that's staying in the abbey, Sarah?"

"He's a filthy piece of rubbish, if you ask me," Sarah retorted. "He needs to go, and that Miss Smith," she pronounced the name with venom, "can go with him. It's because of her I lost my job."

Will leant on the bar, mindful of the drunk and stinking Joe a few barstools away. "You don't have to be so harsh, you know. Anna's not that bad. She's really actually quite nice when you think about it, and get to know her. You should try it one day."

Sarah snorted. "Ever since her and that brother of hers moved into town, I've just been the old back-burner, the axe-grinder everyone was mindful of. Everyone loves the Smiths. And now that agent's here… Well, I'd rather not finish that thought."

"Anna…"

Will and Sarah turned distastefully to the sobbing Joe, who suddenly grabbed Will's jacket and cried aloud. "Where is she, William?! Where's Anna?!"

Will just ground his teeth in irritation.

* * *

"Anna, you and I need to have a talk."

Anna groaned aloud as her elder brother sat down on the crate opposite her in the stables of the Crawley household. Venice Smith raised his eyebrows at his sister as he furbished and polished the shoes for Sybil's new horse, Dragon. He looked up at her, and sighed, long and hard. "Anna, I wish you'd come and told me about this agent before his Lordship told me that his old friend was back in town. He told me everything," Venice added, and Anna groaned again. "Including the incident from yesterday." He paused. "It's been three weeks, Anna. How long did it take you to fall for him?"

Anna guiltily shrugged. "I dunno, Ven. Two weeks at most… maybe it was days, maybe it was weeks. I just don't know!" She buried her face into her hands, raking her fingers through her fringe. Venice placed his polish rag down, and drew a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his blue chinos, lighting one just as the cook in the house came to give him some food.

Beryl Patmore smiled sympathetically at the journalist as she looked up at her, and mouthed helplessly, "Help me!" Beryl placed the tray of tea, coffee and biscuits on a spare crate, and placed her hands on her hips. "Now, Venice, I hope you're not being too harsh to young Anna about Mr Bates. If you ask me, I think he's a splendid fellow, and a great person to chat to."

Anna looked relieved. "Exactly! Thank you, Beryl– wait, what?" A look of confusion overtook her expression of relief. "A great person to chat to? What do you mean?"

Beryl laughed. "Why, didn't you know? He makes visits down to the kitchens, helps me and the other kitchen staff with any matter of small tasks, such as peeling potatoes, or skinning the chicken…"

Right at that moment, the door to the servants' quarters' opened, and John Bates stepped out into the sunshine with a bowl of unpeeled potatoes. He stopped dead when he saw the trio grouped together, Anna's face flushed a rather becoming red, Beryl smirking at him, and Venice grinding his teeth with flared nostrils. He swallowed nervously, and made his way over to them, before smiling at Anna and turning to Venice. He balanced the bowl in one arm, and held out his hand to him. "I'm John Bates. What's your name?"

Venice narrowed his eyes at him, before standing up; the younger man was just a few inches shorter than John. He warily shook John's hand. "Venice, Venice Smith – Anna's older brother," he added, to make his position in Anna's life clearer.

John's face fell. "Oh."

* * *

**A/N:** Want to find out what happens next? Fill out a review down below, or else you'll never know!

...No, seriously, guys. Leave decent, constructive/loving reviews and I will update. Any flames will be ignored, and I won't update until the amount of constructive or _OMG-I'm-loving-this-story_ reviews are pumped up. Thanks! _Bingo the Cat._


	4. Chapter III: The Mistletoe Escapade

**A/N:** Chapter Three: "The Mistletoe Escapade" is now live, ladies and gentlemen!

(For anyone's curiosity, the dictionary definition of **escapade** is:

**Es-ca-pade** [**es**-k_uh_-peyd, es-k_uh-_**peyd**]

**_noun_ **

1. a reckless adventure or wild prank.

2. an escape from confinement or restraint.)

So, without further ado - the Mistletoe Escapade!

* * *

**Chapter Three**

_~Based off the song "Mistletoe" by Justin Bieber~_

"_Et – voilà_!"

Everyone cheered as John crawled out from beneath the Christmas tree, having just turned the tree lights on to mark the start of the festive season. And, in rapid succession, the lights hung around the room and the rest of the house lit up as well, including the animated bells above the fireplace in the main hall. Cora, Mary, Sybil and Anna all giggled as each of their men – Robert, Matthew, Tom and John – flashed winning smiles their way and indicated that they get over there now, or face the wrath of tickle attacks later.

Anna stepped closer to John, and – mindful of Venice's gaze which was locked onto her and John – pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, before handing him a small box, wrapped in royal blue wrapping paper with a silver bow. "Merry Christmas, John."

John grinned back at her, and stored the box into his pocket for later, before Robert sniggered and pointed to something above his and Anna's heads. They both looked up, and froze. Venice's stare hardened immensely, and his eyes burnt with inner fury.

Mistletoe.

John swallowed nervously as he felt everyone's eyes on him; Mary, Edith and Sybil were silently cheering him on, mouthing "_Kiss the girl, kiss the girl…_", whilst Matthew and Tom sniggered in the background. Venice ground his teeth together, and Robert and Cora stood by the Christmas tree, smiling at the couple that weren't officially a couple – yet. He looked back down to Anna, and was taken aback as she grasped the collar of his shirt, pulled him down, and pressed her lips firmly against his.

Venice's jaw dropped to the floor. Matthew and Tom burst out laughing, and the three Crawley sisters threw their arms around each other and beamed at the sight in front of them. Robert and Cora laughed, as well, but their laughter was more affectionate than Matthew and Tom's.

Suddenly, the front doors were opened wide by none other than Violet Crawley, Robert's mother, and Isobel Crawley, Matthew's mother.

Anna and John instantly broke apart, flushing bright red, but giggling all the while. Violet sniffed, and turned her nose up at the site, whilst Isobel smirked, and called aloud:

"Well done, Anna!"

Anna buried her face into John's chest, and the war hero wrapped his arms around her small frame, smiling into her blonde hair.

* * *

"…_We wish you a merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!_"

The merry carollers in the pub cheered as the lights in the town were lit up, giving them a spectacular view of the town at Christmas time once again. Despite the fact that mid-November had been shadowed with the death of one of their own (unlucky Mr Grey), Christmas was still a time for celebration.

Richard Donnelly stood up on the surface of the bar, beaming and declaring that Christmas had officially begun. He looked around at his friends and co-workers – young Jordan O'Habn, partly German but with no direct relation to them in any way whatsoever; Debbie Lewis, his superior and best friend; William Abertus, distantly related to Lee Evans, the world-famous comedian of all time; Nancy Johns, his fiancée and lover (she gave him that smile he loved so much); and Tom Flint, nicknamed "Arrowhead" for his snappy attitude throughout most of the year – he too grinned, and raised his drink in toast to Christmas, and the memory of Christ.

He hopped down from the bar, and was walking over to Nancy and Tom, when the doors to the pub opened wide. They all paused as they took in the sight of the young man stood in the doorway. His brown hair was swept aside by the fierce winter wind, and was flecked with snowflakes; his blue eyes twinkled merrily with the Christmas spirit, and a bright grin lit up his entire face. He was dressed in rather expensive clothing to have come from York – so they guessed – and looked mighty chilled, as well. He chuckled as he shivered, and said good-naturedly, "Don't suppose you've got any mulled wine, do you?"

* * *

The family smiled around at each other, exchanging happy words and singing many carols; however, John and Anna stood outside, wrapped up in warm, woolly jackets and scarves. They stood there, just languishing in each other's embrace, for only God knows how long, before Robert came outside and called the couple back in, ready for unwrapping presents.

Anna sighed, her breath creating a shimmery white mist in the air. John smiled, and chuckled as she nuzzled her mouth against his collarbone and pressed a kiss to it, giggling and hugging him tighter. They laughed together as John picked Anna up, and spun them both around.

John was about to head inside, when Anna grinned. He frowned at her look. "Anna? What is it?"

The young journalist giggled harder. "Don't you remember that gift I gave you earlier, before our… mistletoe escapade?" John's cheeks reddened, and not from the cold. He nodded. Anna's grin widened. "Open it – before we go back inside."

Still confused, John withdrew the small box from his jacket pocket; he gently untied the silver ribbon, and carefully prised the royal blue wrapping paper from the box. He slowly opened it, and gasped at the gift within.

It was a silver chain necklace, of one half of a heart, along with a diamond set in the middle. He looked up at her, shocked, as she withdrew a silver chain not unlike his from beneath her tops, which held the other half of the heart. She reached behind her, and unclipped it, before piecing the two halves together. Not usually an emotional man, John was surprised to feel tears welling in his eyes. Anna swallowed. "This is to remind you of me, wherever you are, wherever you may go. Just know that, through this… I'll always be with you."

"Anna…" John was choking up. The gift was beautiful, and the fact that it was from her made it all the more special to him. Anna reached up, and cupped his face in her hands, which were shaking in the cold. He smiled down at her, and she helped him put the necklace on, before drawing him in for yet another kiss that evening. He responded softly, cupping her own face with one hand, whilst the other settled at the small of her back, slowly rubbing away the knots that had formed there during the day.

Robert poked his head around the door, and had to stifle a laugh at the sight in front of him.

* * *

"What's your name, kid?" Nancy quietly asked the stranger as he gratefully accepted the mug of mulled wine from William; he looked up at her, and smiled, abashed and taken aback at her kindness. His brow creased slightly, and he sipped the wine before answering her question.

"I'm Justin. Justin Bates."

They were all startled. Jordan stepped forwards, and nervously asked Justin, "Are you, uh… are you the son of the agent in town? John Bates?"

Justin snorted in amusement. "Son?! You've gotta be kidding me!" He laughed for a few minutes, before calming down enough to answer their million questions. "No, no, no. But I am a relative, you see. But, he's not the reason I came here, to Downton, in the first place. No, I came here because I heard it was a nice getaway from the hustle-and-bustle of London."

Tom nudged William in the ribs. "D'you reckon he's telling the truth?"

William sniggered at Tom's uncertain question. "Of course he's telling the truth – you can see it in his eyes!"

Justin was still nursing his mulled wine, and he spoke up again. "I'm also here to see John, and tell him that I've gotten a lead on the murderer of poor Mr Grey, and that we'll need to leave soon, perhaps in a couple of weeks, if we're to catch him before he crosses to France from Cardiff." At everyone's confused expressions, he elaborated on the situation. "I'm an agent in the secret service too, you see. I supply him with all the equipment he'll ever need on an investigation or mission, and I'm his second-in-command, his main accomplice."

* * *

The Christmas season passed with surprising speed, and soon things were going back to normal. Well, normal enough for some people.

The shift in their relationship had left them reeling, to say the least; Venice finally accepted that they did indeed love each other, and – though disgruntled about the whole situation – let them be together, whilst the Crawley family rejoiced in the fact that two of their friends were finally going somewhere in life.

John lay in his warm bed that night, thinking of Christmas Day, not one week ago, when the mistletoe escapade had brought them even closer together. Anna, Anna, Anna… She was all he ever thought about these days. Mr Carson had politely asked to have the files for the investigation into Larry Grey's murder back for the season, hoping to be able to at least get a lead on things whilst Tom, Venice, John and Anna were invited to spend Christmas with the Crawleys, and John had readily agreed, hoping to be able to spend more time with Anna.

His fingers reached up, and a broad smile broke out over his face as he touched the smooth silver heart pendant, rubbing the diamond between his thumb and first finger affectionately.

_Anna…_

A quiet knock on his door drew him from his musings of the beautiful woman who called herself his, and he slowly clambered out of bed, pulling on his dressing gown over his pyjama pants and nightshirt. He walked to the door, the metal of his lower right leg clanging on the wooden floorboards, and opened the bedroom door wide. He was surprised to see Robert stood there, in no better sense of dress than he was, with an excited look upon his face. John was confused. "Robert? What is it?"

Robert wasted no time in gushing out to his old pal, "It seems they have a lead on the murderer! Carson and Barrow are downstairs in the library – they want to talk to you!"

John's heart leapt in his chest. _At last! _He pushed past Robert, who chuckled as the man rushed downstairs, despite his unfit state of dress for the meeting. The noise drew Cora, Mary, Matthew and Anna from their rooms, bleary eyed and confused.

* * *

"Sorry, for my unfit state of dress, but I was hastily made known of the news and had to come at once."

Charles smiled at the undercover agent, whilst Barrow just sat there with a mixed expression – slightly sour, but slightly pleased as well. John sat down on the sofa opposite them, as the entire household gathered around the trio. Charles looked at Barrow, who gave a slightly sad smile to John; the MI6 agent was instantly wary.

"What? What is it?"

Barrow heaved a breath inwards, before sighing. "It seems that the murderer of Larry Grey, a young man of about twenty-seven, is heading west, towards Wales, and, unfortunately, Mr Carson's too old to go on these missions, and I'm not classified, so…"

"So I'm to leave." John's jaw hardened. "I'm the last choice in the matter when it comes down to chasing criminals." His nostrils flared slightly, and he buried his face into his hands, fingers spearing into his messy hair.

Anna felt tears threaten to leave her eyes, and she swayed on the spot alarmingly; Mary instantly guided her over to the armchair next to the sofa, and sat her down. John looked up, and Anna could see that his own eyes were red; he reached over, and grasped her hand reassuringly, though nothing would be more reassuring than to have him stay with her. He lifted her knuckles to his mouth, and kissed them gently. "I'll be back," he whispered to her, and she smiled tremulously at him.

"I know you will," she replied. "After all, you've got to do your job, don't you?" John pressed one more shaky kiss to her knuckles, before standing and pulling her right into his arms. She sighed against him, nuzzling her nose into the underside of his throat as he peppered kisses against her hairline.

Unfortunately, all happy moments had to end. "Agent Bates, if I may," Charles spoke up nervously; John rested his cheek against Anna's hair, looking into the chief policeman's eyes and indicating that he continue. "We'll give you a couple of days to prepare yourself and your accomplices, so that you may leave on Wednesday."

"Accomplices?"

Robert had spoken up, unsure of what Charles meant. Everyone gathered in the room, minus John, Charles and Barrow, were confused at this statement. Barrow raised his eyebrow. "Yes, Agent Bates' main accomplice, his second-in-command, arrived, on Christmas Day, and found me on the Friday, telling me of the lead. I informed Mr Carson so that we could tell Mr Bates tonight." Barrow turned to look at John. "He has all the equipment ready – guns, headsets, bulletproof vests and whatnot – you just need to pack some clothes and prepare to depart with him, and a man who has served in the army, on Wednesday, sir." He gave a slight salute, and bowed out of the room, followed by Charles.

As soon as they were gone and out of earshot, a light sob was torn from John's throat, and Anna rubbed his shoulders soothingly, pressing her own light kisses to the hollow of his throat. He buried his face right into her shoulder, and started to cry; Tom and Venice stood awkwardly to the side, whilst Matthew wrapped his arms around Mary from behind, as did Robert to Cora; and Edith and Sybil were left to look on sadly.

"Bates – John," Matthew spoke up, quickly amending himself, knowing that John preferred to be called by his Christian name; the man looked at him over the top of Anna's head, his eyes bloodshot and watery. Matthew swallowed, and quietly said, "If it's any help, I'd like to volunteer to come with you. I've worked in the army, and this way I can keep an eye on you for Anna."

John wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, sniffling and smiling wryly at Matthew. "I… thank you, Matthew. Be warned, though," he added, "it will get bloody, if my past experiences serve my mind right."

Matthew nodded.

Tom took his own chance to speak up. "Who's this other accomplice of yours, then, John?" His Irish burr, added with the sleepiness that possessed its hold over him, made his voice sound rougher than usual, much more rogue. His eyes were still bleary, and ached from being open for so long. But before John could answer him, an unfamiliar voice spoke up.

"I'm his accomplice, sir."

The entire household looked towards the young man stood in the doorway; Tom's older brother Kieran was stood with him, looking irritable at being awoken at such an ungodly hour. He was grinding his teeth.

John stepped away from Anna, smiling a small smile at the young man. "Hello, Justin."

The man called Justin grinned back. "Hello, Uncle John."

* * *

**A/N:** PLOT TWIST!

**anna4bates**: Thank you for your support so far! I'm certainly enjoying writing this story, and I hope I can reach the biggest word count I've ever reached in the history of my time on FanFiction - which is, to say, not very big at all, but you know what I mean!

**Alkd**: I know, I know, I shouldn't have left you with an almost-kiss last chapter, but I was listening to a bunch of random Christmas songs, when the one mentioned at the top came on, and a light bulb just literally appeared over my head. _Sexy Anna/Bates Christmas fluff, here we come!_ is all that was running through my mind at the time. But thank you for your support, as well!

I decided to put a big gap between this chapter and the previous one, because I was running out of inspiration, and I didn't exactly have any ideas on how John and Venice could meet without the latter trying to rip John's throat out, in the presence of Anna and Mrs Patmore. So, I settled for a happy Christmas chappy!

I'm nearly at my word count for NaNoWriMo! Without including chapter titles and the "Based off the song..." shizz, I'm at 8,722 words, leaving me with 1,278 words left to write until I'm eligible to win NaNoWriMo this year! Whoop! But never to fear, Downton (and subsequent Anna/Bates) fans, I will continue this story long through until I feel it's finished. When it is finished, and you don't think I should have left you where the story ends, you can request for a sequel, and I'll write it for NaNoWriMo next year! And then it's no more writing until I settle into college life! Such fun! *rolls eyes*

Thank you all for your support so far, and I will see you, possibly on Saturday (but only cause Sat's my birthday!) with Chapter Four!

**P.S.: **If you want to submit ideas for future chapters, I'd be happy to take requests! My only qualm is that it can't be horror - I completely suck when it comes to writing horror. So, any other genres are fine! Watch out, fluffy Anna/Bates, cuz here we come! :D


	5. Chapter IV: A Surprise Announcement

**A/N: Chapter Four, everypeoples, Chapter Four! Enjoy it, or face my wrath... *shifty eyes***

* * *

**Chapter Four**

_~Based off the song "Bulletproof Heart" by My Chemical Romance~_

"Good luck, John." Robert clapped his old comrade-in-arms on the shoulder, a sombre expression on his face as he saw John, Matthew and Justin off at the station, the train headed for Cardiff so they could hopefully catch the murderer before he got into France. 2013 was dawned with a grim face for the Crawleys and their associates.

"John…"

John turned to Anna, who whimpered as he drew her into his embrace. He peppered her hairline with kisses, and she nuzzled her nose against his affectionately. He cupped her face, and delivered one long, slow and languid kiss to her lips, to which she responded just as slowly, just as sensually.

"Ugh, get a room, you two." Justin and Venice's combined voices broke through the tender moment, and Anna and John turned to glare at their relatives, who had the decency to look mildly abashed. The couple turned back to each other, and John tucked an errant lock of hair behind Anna's ear. He breathed in, and rubbed their noses together in affection. Resting his forehead against hers, he asked her:

"Will you wait for me?"

None of the people gathered could believe what they were hearing, Robert, Venice and Justin especially. He was practically asking for her hand in marriage, and they'd been officially dating for less than a week! Anna gasped. "John, I…" Tears welled in her eyes, and a beaming smile graced her face. "Yes, I'll wait for you… I'll always wait for you."

A tremulous smile broke out over John's face, and he squeezed her around the waist once more, before disentangling himself from her embrace and stepping back. Matthew and Justin realised that it was time to go. They picked up their bags, and stepped onto the train, without a single look back. John hesitated, and turned to Anna. His gaze softened, and he reached up to touch the pendant on the necklace before stepping on board to settle for the long journey.

* * *

**_WEDS 2ND JAN. 2013_**

**_22:34_**

**_LOCATION: On the train to Cardiff_**

_It's kind of hard to believe that I'm actually going on a mission with two secret service members._

_If someone –just a random person in the street, maybe – had asked me last year what I thought I would be doing by this time, I would have replied with a shrug and a short list of possibilities – helping the local youths find somewhere to stay after school, rather than wreaking havoc on the streets; perhaps practising on my guitar or piano skills for the local Karaoke and Musical Talent night, a week after New Years'; maybe even helping Tom with the running of the garage._

_If someone had told me that at twenty minutes to eleven on the second of January, 2013, I'd be on a train to Cardiff with John Bates and his nephew Justin, hoping to catch a murderer, I would have laughed at the crazy idea._

_Which is why I can't actually believe I'm here. Oh, sorry, Justin's saying something to me… Aha! We've arrived!_

* * *

The trio stepped off the train; no sooner had they done so, had the doors hissed shut and the train started to speed off into the distance. Justin was carrying all the equipment they would need (guns, rifles, sub-machine guns, bulletproof vests, etc.), whilst Matthew and John just carried their suitcases, Matthew with the added towing of Justin's. They walked towards the exit of the station, the small pendant necklace Anna had bought John for Christmas bouncing on the senior agent's wiry chest, dragging their suitcases along behind them.

John and Justin lead Matthew towards a small hotel, barely noticeable alongside all the fancy restaurants of Tiger Bay; he wasn't dismayed, it would do, but he was surprised why they hadn't chosen a more classy place to stay. He shook his head, and followed them in.

As soon as the revolving doors had moved on after he stepped out, his jaw dropped to the floor. "Oh… my… God…"

Justin just laughed, and walked over to the receptionist; the young girl, with pale skin and excessive amounts of make-up, looked up, and smiled at Justin and John. She started a bit at the sight of Matthew, but John just gave the girl a look, indicating that he wasn't to be argued with. From a sneak at her badge and what she was doing, Matthew saw Teresa hand John a key to a room on the top floor. It had the letter "P" printed on it.

They passed underneath a crystal chandelier, and Matthew was astonished at the sight of the elevator; made completely of glass (reminding him a little of the lift in _Willy Wonka_, he thought to himself with a chuckle), John placed the key into a lock, twisting it and causing the glass to take a dark hue, making them invisible to the public and naked eye. Matthew squeezed in just as the elevator doors started to shut.

Once the elevator reached the top floor, it gave a small ping, and the glass returned to its normal hue; John, Justin and Matthew stepped out of the elevator, and the doors hissed shut. For the second time that evening, Matthew felt like his jaw was going to drop off. "Are we…?"

Justin grinned, and – with a massive sigh – dumped all the boxes and cases of equipment down on one of the sofas nearby. He turned to Matthew. "Yep. This is the MI6 Penthouse of Cardiff. We have rooms and apartments like this all over the world – twenty-five, to be exact."

Matthew's suitcase dropped to the floor.

Meanwhile, John was looking into each of the bedrooms, making sure they were all set up nicely, and correctly, before pulling his two cases into the larger room. Justin stared after his uncle with slight concern. He explained the circumstances to Matthew. "Usually, the leading agent on the case will take to the larger of the rooms in the Penthouses, and the second-in-command, or the two accomplices, will share the smaller of the two rooms here. On some occasions when I've been on missions with Uncle John, he'll have taken to the sofa – he does suffer from insomnia a lot, ever since Afghanistan."

Matthew felt he could relate greatly. War did some terrible things to your mind, and mental state if not your physical state. He understood John's condition greatly. He had nearly lost all mobility in his lower body when an explosion had pushed him back and onto an old and forgotten truck, nearly severing his spinal cord.

Justin heaved a great sigh, and collapsed onto the sofa; reaching over to the coffee table, he picked up a brochure, and browsed through it until he found what he wanted. He smiled. Raising his voice, he called out to John:

"Oi, Uncle John! How d'you fancy a Chinese tonight?"

The muffled reply seemed to be some form of agreement; Justin turned to Matthew. "What about you, Matthew? Chinese?"

Matthew shrugged good-naturedly. "I guess so. I haven't had Chinese for so long now."

* * *

"JUSTIN, TURN THAT BLOODY MUSIC DOWN! _NOW!_"

"_Destroya! Destroya!_

_Destroya! Destroya!_

_Destroya! __Destroy-aah!_"

John grumbled irritably, and placed his hands over his ears as Justin's music blasted throughout the entire Penthouse apartment; his irritation only served to make his nephew crank the music up louder. What was worse, Matthew and Justin were starting to sing along to the songs playing on the stereo.

"_I guess they thought we're the enemy!_"

It started to fade out, and John praised the heavens. Instantly afterwards, his fingers stroked the pendant lying on his bare, wiry chest, and thought of Anna.

_I wonder how she's doing…?_

* * *

Anna sighed, sitting on the sofa in the Crawley's grand library. Mary sat in the armchair nearby. Both were nursing glasses of whiskey. Edith and Sybil sat in front of the fire, keeping themselves warm against the January chill. It was the early hours of the morning. January third. If someone had asked Anna what she would be doing this week, she would have replied that she was going back to work, but would try and spend as much time with John as she possibly could.

Damn the murderer. Damn MI6. But most of all, damn herself.

She had attached herself – her heart and soul – to the one man who was mostly unavailable. What sort of strain would his job put on their relationship, once he returned?

Suddenly, Anna's iPhone buzzed on the coffee table, and the young woman made a dive for it. At the same time, the familiar ringtone of Mary's (the song "Troublemaker" by Olly Murs and Flo Rida) set off, and the eldest daughter dug her phone out of her pocket in a hurry.

"John!"

"_Anna! How are you? Where are you? Are you–?_"

Anna laughed at the concern in John's voice over the phone line. "Never mind me, what about you? Did you arrive in Cardiff safely?"

She could sense his smile as he breathed out, into the receiver of his mobile, before she heard the loud blaring music over the line and the sound of Matthew and – supposedly – Justin singing along. Her grin widened at the sound of his frustrated groan. "Annoying you much?"

But before she could hear John answer, Mary yelled down the speaker of her phone, "Who the hell are you?!"

* * *

Richard Carlisle considered himself to be a very successful man. He may work with newspapers, but he made his living out of them. And he was well respected within the public. No papers were sold without being checked for plagiarism first, and he did that so calmly it was a wonder he didn't fly off the hook at every spelling mistake, every political incorrectness, and every grammar smudge.

So he thought himself very calm and collected as he listened to Lady Mary Crawley's tirade over the phone. He sat back on his sofa in his dingy hotel room in Cardiff, one leg crossed over the other. In the background, some very out-dated rock music played on an old record player from the people in the room next door.

"_If you're some stalker who's trying to get into my good books by calling me in the middle of the night whilst my husband is somewhere in Cardiff, looking for a murderer, then you've got another thing coming to you! You're going in completely the opposite direction, pal!_"

Richard's jaw hardened. So, that sanctimonious worm John Bates was onto him, was he? And he appeared to have a couple of accomplices this time round. _Bet you didn't see that one coming, did you, Richard?_

"Who's with your husband, Lady Mary? Would his and his accomplice's initials happen to be the letters J and B?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line, before Lady Mary uncertainly answered, "Yes… Their names are John and Justin–"

He didn't need to hear anymore. Phase Two of his plan was complete. He hung up in the middle of her sentence; he sat back, and threw his iPhone onto the coffee table, and set to work on drafting up where John and Justin Bates might be hiding in lurk, waiting to get him. _Your personal revenge, huh, John Bates? I don't think so, pal. It's my turn, again. And you know that I'll win. Because I'm the victorious rat._

* * *

Mary stared at her phone, which resounded with a loud and monotonous tone. "Whoever that was just hung up on me."

By this time, Robert, Cora, Isobel, Venice and Tom had entered the room as well, confused as to what the commotion was. Edith and Sybil were standing by Anna, grasping her arms and keeping her upright; she had swayed alarmingly at John's recent revelation at what Anna had relayed to him. His voice swam inside her head.

…_Anna, you need to get them out of there…If some man's calling Lady Mary, asking for someone's initials, then you're in danger of being next on the murderer's list…I don't want you to die…Whoever that man was wouldn't have relayed his location or name for fear of being found out…We may have just found the murderer…_

Tom broke the silence. "What the bloody hell was that all about?"

And, just like that, Anna completely broke down.

* * *

**A/N: I'd like to hear your views and thoughts, guys, I don't want to be left in the dark. Please let me know what you think.**

**Alkd: Sorry it's late! But happy birthday for the 11/30! Yes, John does have a prosthetic leg, and he does occasionally wear it whilst he's sleeping... I've come up with an entire universe for these versions of the characters from Downton - it's so vast and huge! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

**poma14: Aww, thank you! It is nice to see John and Anna outside of their original story! I read your most recent story, "Across the Universe" - that is a spectacular idea! I can't wait to read more of what happens!**

**Once again, I'd just like to thank Alkd and anna4bates for sticking with me so far! It's been great hearing their feedback, now I'd like to know yours! :)**


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Downton Abbey, Crime, Romance