Sherlock Holmes was going to France for the summer for perhaps the 20th time in his life- his childhood has been wrought by never ending holidays to the Parisian seaside with the person he'd hated most in the world- Mycroft, of course- but he had to admit that he had missed the large house and the memories it held. Not that he'd ever admit it to anyone- especially John Watson, who's wife and four month old child, named Eadie at Sherlocks request-along with the only pathologist in London that Sherlock Holmes deemed acceptable to aid him in his experiments-were accompanying The Holmes family on their trip back in time.

His parents had arrived in Paris a few weeks before them, to prepare for the onslaught of people and Hell that would be on their doorstep very soon, so The Holmes brothers and their entourage( well, Sherlocks entourage- Anthea had be willing to come, until a sudden job in Pakistan that involved a very angry politician and some bad eggs had called her away) were made to find their own way to the holiday destination.

It was a short car ride for John. ect, and Mycroft, but Molly didn't trust London enough to leave her metallic green VW Beetle in the train station car park, so she and Sherlock split a cab. Again, he'd never admit it, but he was perfectly happy with the company. After Moriarty had been defeated for the second time, and Eadie brought into the world, John Watson had been far to absent in Sherlocks life.

When he had heard of Moriarty's return, the first thought in Sherlocks head had been, " How can I keep them safe this time?". But of course, now them hadn't just been John and Mary, or John and Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson, but Molly and Anderson and Donavon( who, though not as friendly to him as Lestrade or Anderson had been, had apologised so sincerely after he came back, that he could barely keep his blank expression, let alone allow her to think that she wasn't always, and completely forgiven). The moment he came properly to his senses he had Mycroft raise all of his friends and acquaintances' security level to as high as possible- he would not lose them like they lost him, he promised himself, and he was successful in that endeavour- but the toll that was taken by his mind was obvious to anyone who spent more than ten minutes at a time with him- he wasn't insane. Just a little bit stressed.
It was only when Molly asked him if he was okay, for the second time in his life, that he broke down and told her everything, how he'd been wrong, how everyone needed to be safe, how afraid he was, how he couldn't do this, not again, that anyone really did anything about it.
Mycroft made him stay with his pathologist for a few nights after she called him, which he didn't have a problem with. She smelt like coffee and Haagen- Daaz ice cream and formaldehyde, and her cat liked him, and sometimes she let him a share a bed with her, and the heat she radiated was enough to send the most stubborn person into the most peaceful sleep they will ever experience. And she was safe.
And the perfect weight to hoist up on a lab table- no, he couldn't think like that, not while sitting next to her in cab on the way to stay with his parents for summer. No, those thoughts were for cold mornings with cups of slowly cooling coffee in his hands and nights when he was all to alone.
But not now.

Mycroft texted their parents before they got on the train, telling them that they were on their way, and then doors were closed and seats were settled in.

Mary and John were content to play with their daughter for the hours-long journey, and Mycroft was tapping away on his laptop, but Sherlock and Molly were bored as Hell for some of that journey. They'd been crammed in together because Mycroft, Mary, John and the baby had gotten the only remaining table in the carriage, leaving them in the two seats behind their friends.

Molly was unable to get anything out of her bag, as it was in the rack above their heads and she was too shy to touch another person things to get past them so she could read her bloody book for a little while, and Sherlock had nothing to do as he had read every book in his house once, and that was enough for him, and there really isn't much else to do on trains, unless you had a table, and enough room to use your laptop.

So they were left to people watching, which was significantly more fun with a man who could see through people like they were cling film.
" He's jilting a woman on their wedding day" he said, as a man hurriedly rushed past them, and ingot he next carriage, " And she smoked three cigarettes in the toilet". He delighted in the way she giggled at that, and left out all the nasty things, like how the man was jilting his fiancé because he found out she killed her previous husband, and the woman was chain smoking because she just found out her dad died in a car accident.

Half way through the journey, Mycroft Holmes got a text from a contact he hadn't heard from in quite some time. Emmeline, was all it said, only five or six texts from the number, everyone of them ridiculous and designed to make the Ice Man laugh.

The text was a picture of a young girl with narrow blue eyes and straight, waist length, black hair, sitting in a car, and five words, See you in Paris, bitches!

The elder brother rolled his eyes, and got up from his seat to show Sherlock the message.