Sherlock Holmes shivered in his black jacket as he wrapped his blue scarf tighter around his neck. He wished that he had his large coat with him but it wouldn't fit in his check-in. Mycroft was supposed to be picking him up from the airport but he was late as usual.
Where are you? SH Sherlock texted, his numb fingers shaking. It's cold here!
Be there in an hour, brother dear. An hour? Sherlock didn't think he could last another ten minutes!
Forget it. I'm walking to Cambridge. Sherlock replied, annoyed. Just as he hit send he felt a pang of regret. Now he definitely didn't have any ride to Uni, and he'd need to rent a car.
Sherlock pulled his luggage behind him. The airport was empty for the most part as it was almost midnight, except for the occasional single tourist or police officer milling around.
He reached the rental car booth to find a short, brown-haired teenager arguing with a man at the car rental booth.
"Listen," he fumed, "your website says that a car is $15 a day, why are you charging me 30?"
"It's a misprint," the sales manager insisted, "That's our price, now take it or leave it."
"Sod this," the guy replied, "I'll walk to Cambridge if I have to!" With that, he scooped up his wallet and prepared to leave, but Sherlock intercepted him.
"Are you going to Cambridge too?" He asked. "I'm Sherlock Holmes, by the way."
"John Watson, nice to meet you." John shook his hand. "I'd like to go, but this gent here is trying to rip me off."
"Here, we'll split it." Sherlock pulled out his card. "I need a ride as well, at least until I get my bus card."
"Thanks, mate." John handed Sherlock some change as he went up to the booth to purchase the car. He knew not to trust strangers, but how much harm could it do to get to know this Sherlock Holmes? He seemed pretty normal to him.
Of course, maybe that was the late hour talking.