Lestrade looked up from his paperwork as he heard voices approach his office but turned back to his report as he recognised them. He should have expected these two as soon as he got the email from Mycroft.
"Lestrade! Tell me you can explain my brother's need to remove me from the country."
He raised his head as Sherlock entered, John close behind him.
"Nice to see you too."
"There is no time for pleasantries. I only came here to see if you were involved in my hurried departure to France."
Lestrade ignored him and sent John a bemused look instead. The ex-soldier smiled in return and opened his mouth to speak but he was cut off.
"Well, Inspector? Do you have anything to say that is actually useful to me?" Sherlock stared at him, both expectantly and in a way that implied that he didn't believe there to be an affirmation. Lestrade let out a heavily put upon sighing, causing John's grin to widen and Sherlock to huff. As the younger man turned to sweep back out, he spoke.
"Yes, actually, I do."
Sherlock spun around, impatient to hear what he had to say. John too seemed to perk up at the idea of his friend's mood being put to rest.
"I have to meet a friend in Paris. For some reason your brother has decided that you can't be trusted in London without a friendly officer around and so I'm being forced to babysit." Lestrade sat back in his chair, lifting his feet up onto the desk, and waited for the shouting to begin. John stepped slightly away from Sherlock, also preparing for the fallout. The detective however, just blinked and stood completely still. Lestrade and John exchanged looks of worry.
"Sherlock?" John queried. "Are you okay?"
Sherlock seemed to shake himself before answering. "Of course I am. Well then Inspector, we'll see you at the airport tomorrow. Don't be late." And with that, he left. John and Lestrade exchanged another look, then John shrugged and followed the other man out of the station. Lestrade just shook his head and returned to his paperwork. He had a lot to complete before he left tomorrow.
"Do you want to explain what that was all about?" John asked as they got into a cab.
"What what was all about?" Sherlock replied, deliberately ignorant. John just titled his head, not buying his act for a moment. Sherlock took a second to berate himself for allowing someone to know him so well but answered the question properly.
"There was no point arguing. Once Mycroft decides something it takes far more effort than I am willing to exert to change his mind. Besides, Lestrade rarely mentions Paris or leaves London. This is a unique experience to acquire some interesting information on him."
"Greg mentioned once that he was French but I've never really believed it. He just seems like such a Londoner," John said incredulously. Sherlock snorted at that so John frowned at him. "Have I really missed such an obvious clue to his heritage?"
"No, I guess you haven't," Sherlock said grudgingly. "You at least knew where he was from, unlike some of his colleagues, and they even hear him speak French at times."
"I've never heard him speak French," John said firmly. Sherlock sighed.
"He doesn't use his first language often, but he is fluent."
"I guess because you've known him so long it's understandable that you would know all about him," John said, nodding his head in agreement to his logic.
"I don't know all about him," Sherlock murmured, turning to stare blankly out of the window. John shot him a concerned frown but didn't comment.
When Lestrade reached the airport the next morning, the other two men were already waiting for him. He grinned as he walked up to them and clapped Sherlock on the shoulder.
"Ready for a long flight?" Lestrade asked and Sherlock glared at him.
"The flight will barely be an hour," the detective replied through clenched teeth. John frowned at the tense look on his friend's face.
"Sherlock isn't the keenest flyer," Lestrade said in answer to the unasked question.
"Really?" John asked in surprise. "I didn't know you didn't like flying."
"It is ridiculous to make a big deal out of something so small," Sherlock replied moodily.
Lestrade just chuckled and began walking towards the check-in desk, the other two following behind him.
"So, how did you know?" John asked, refusing to drop the subject. It always intrigued him to learn more about Sherlock and he had always had the feeling that the Detective Inspector knew more than he let on. It just shocked him that Greg knew something quite so personal. I guess I don't really know all that much about their relationship. Greg said that he'd known Sherlock for a few years before I met him but I always assumed they were strictly work colleagues. This does explain why Greg puts up with more of Sherlock's shit than most people do.
"Sherlock told me," Lestrade said, his tone suggesting that answer should have been obvious.
"But Sherlock never tells people about himself. I hadn't realised how close you two were, especially with all the…differences of opinion." John stared at his friends now and was amazed at the reaction his words caused. Lestrade was working hard not to catch eyes with anyone and Sherlock…Sherlock was blushing! John tried very hard to work his features into a neutral expression but from Sherlock's scowl he obviously wasn't doing a good job. The consulting detective hastily cleared his throat and began to speak, his voice slightly strained.
"Yes, well, a lot of my early days with Lestrade were spent being high so I haven't bothered to remember many of the conversations we had."
This quickly stopped all conversations as none of the party wanted to think about those days. Feeling guilty about bringing the topic up in the first place, John let silence keep them company until they boarded the plane. Once they were seated, Lestrade by the window and John in the middle, the ex-soldier decided to start up conversation again.
"So, Greg, what's this friend of yours like? Mycroft said you were arranging where we would be staying; I'm guessing it's with this friend?"
"Yeah, Anton's got this big house in Montgeron, which is why we're flying to Orly." Lestrade stopped talking and a frown appeared on his face. He turned from where he was staring out of the window and, fixing them with an unreadable look, said "Just don't take everything he says too much to heart. He'll probably make some comments that won't make sense or suggest something uncomfortable. It's in everyone's best interest to just ignore him."
John and Sherlock glanced at each other, curious as to what their friend could mean. Lestrade just sighed though and turned back to the window. As the plane took off, he found himself wishing that he hadn't told Mycroft to procure the flight tickets. He watched as London got further and further away from him, praying that it would still be in one piece by the time he returned. He may have left Paris 200 hundred years ago but he still went back every decade or so to keep up with the language and the people; it was his first home after all. He turned to check on Sherlock and saw that John was keeping him occupied with a discussion on what they would do in Paris. Smiling at the sight, he half listened to their conversation while surreptitiously observing the rest of the passengers and the plane crew with his acute senses to try and diminish his hunger. This was why he hated flying.