Chapter Two

"...And just when were you planning on telling me that you were coming along?"

Sherlock straightened his coat. "Well it was obvious, wasn't it?"

John groaned and rubbed his face with one long-suffering stroke. He should have known. He should have known this was going to happen.

After a week of planning John and Mary boarded the rather luxurious private jet that Mycroft had so generously provided, feeling happy, excited, and ready for a nice peaceful two weeks without work and stress.

At least until the epitome of work and stress strolled out of the airplane's flight deck, wearing a steward's hat and a smirk.

Now John was just colossally pissed off. He paced the almost empty airplane (god, Sherlock's theatrics were growing on him), and he glared at the offending, potentially honeymoon-wrecking force that was Sherlock bloody Holmes.

"This is a honeymoon, Sherlock. You know, where two married people go out alone, have fun alone, no friends, no work?"

Sherlock looked unperturbed as he removed the hat and ruffled his hair. In fact he had the gall to look amused, which just poked at John's nerves even more.

"Please John, it's not like I'm going to barge into your bedroom sessions." He sat down on one of the seats of the plane and spread his legs out, making himself comfortable.

John wiped his face again and put his hands on his hips. He turned to Mary, who was appallingly calm as she read her book. "Don't you have anything to say about this?"

Mary smiled and glanced up. "You look like you do."

"Of course I bloody do! Sherlock Holmes just somehow slid himself into our honeymoon."

"I did not slide into your honeymoon. I recommended a prime spot and you accepted it. Hardly sliding."

"I didn't expect you to come with us!"

"Mistake for you then, you should have expected me. Again, it was obvious."

John held a hand up. "You know what? Shut up. Just shut up." He sighed and turned back to Mary, gesturing to Sherlock and looking exasperated. "Really, you've got nothing to say?"

"John love, if there was anyone I would have expected to come with us to our honeymoon, Sherlock would be at the top of my list." Mary still didn't look up as she patted the seat next to hers. John sat begrudgingly.

Sherlock had taken out his phone. "Don't worry John, I have no intention of ruining your little sex holiday."

"Could you please stop calling it that?"

"Hm, not planning to."

Mary chuckled to herself as John rubbed his face and sighed. God, he hoped he could survive this.


By the end of the flight, John was on the verge of strangling someone. Hell, he would have gladly strangled Sherlock if Sherlock was within his kill zone. Unfortunately, the sly cock placed himself strategically three feet away, and next to Mary, so there was no way for John to fatally hurt him.

He was left to his murderous inventions as he grabbed a cab to take them out of Paris and into Soissons. Sherlock slid into the front seat, still avoiding John's twitching hands.

"The inn is near the outskirts of Soissons," Sherlock said lightly as they drove, looking at John and seemingly oblivious to the glare he was shooting him. "I booked you the biggest room for whatever you may choose to do and I got you a dinner reservation back in Paris at the Terminus Nord."

"A dinner reservation?" John raised an eyebrow. "What, got a cook there that owes you a favour?"

"No, but you're lucky Mycroft added the reservation to the sex holiday package; otherwise you would owe me..." Sherlock calculated. "Two thousand Euros. Plus tax."

John didn't even bother to say anything as Sherlock looked back out the window.

"You'll like Soissons, very friendly people. Hour's drive to Paris though, that's one flaw. Closer than other towns though."

That's all Sherlock talked about for the rest of the trip, as was expected, though his knowledge of ancient France was surprisingly plentiful. Even so, John wasn't listening. Throughout the whole trip and since Sherlock made his appearance in the airplane, John had been wondering what he was up to.

This wasn't just a simple tag-along. Sherlock could be the laziest bum when he wanted to be, and why did he want to be in France, where there were no crimes to solve (at least no interesting ones) and probably no excitement?

No- Sherlock had an ulterior motive in coming here, even in recommending the place, and John wanted to know what for two reasons.

One: as angry as he was at the moment he didn't want this twat in too much danger. Emphasis on too.

Two: he wanted to know how badly this would ruin his honeymoon.

"Soissons is famous for some of its Gothic architecture," Sherlock continued on as they got out of the cab an hour later, making their walk to the inn. "Their historic architecture is mainly religious, but it has a very rich history. It was a major medieval city before-"

"How do you know so much?" Mary finally asked, eyebrow raised.

"A big secret of mine is that I'm rather a fan of ancient French history." Seeing the look on her face, he sighed. "Wikipedia."

After getting their reservation and looking at the room, John's temper faded. Their bedroom was decent, and it had a balcony with a good view of Soissons, which John could see that Sherlock was right about. It was a beautiful town.

Letting out a large breath, he turned around to Sherlock, who was standing by the doorway and crossed his arms, looking stern. Even if he didn't find out what he was here for, he wanted assurance.

"So you won't be interfering with anything."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I'll do my best not to interfere with your sex-"

"Sherlock."

"Oh very well, honeymoon. Scout's honour." Sherlock crossed his heart and held up his hand, showing John he was serious in the most ridiculously childish way he could.

John let out a breath and nodded. "Are you staying in the same inn?"

"Two floors below," Sherlock replied, grabbing his suitcase and leaving the room. "Best make yourselves comfortable. Reservation's at eight. Happy honeymoon!" He smiled a wide smile before shutting the door.

As soon as he left, Mary walked over to John, wrapping her arms around him. "I think it's awfully sweet, what he's doing," she said.

John laughed. "Sherlock Holmes doesn't do sweet," he stated. "I know there's something behind all this."

"Even if there is, look," Mary gestured to the room. "We're having our honeymoon, we'll be seeing the sights," she grinned and kissed his cheek. "Couldn't have asked for anything better."

John smiled. "Come on, Mrs. Watson. Let's get unpacked. We've got a dinner date."


When Sherlock entered his room, he was not at all surprised to find Mycroft lounging pleasantly on a chair, looking up at him with a sardonic smile. In fact he was secretly preparing for it.

"What did I tell you?" Mycroft stood up. "I knew you couldn't resist."

Sherlock removed his coat. "Spare the 'I-told-you-so's for later Mycroft, give me the details."

"Of course." Mycroft handed him a file. Sherlock flicked through the photos. Scheduled dates, photos of tourists, CDs with CCTV footage. The one that caught his attention was a picture of the Louvre Museum, and a rather crude painting of various splotches. The painting looked amateurish, almost too amateur for the Louvre.

"You're getting slow Mycroft," Sherlock mocked, shutting the file. "A day before you noticed the painting was counterfeit?"

Ignoring the jest, Mycroft continued. "Someone stole that painting the previous night. It contains a valuable piece of information."

"Should have guessed, it's a horrible painting," Sherlock replied, smirking. "Did you paint it?"

"Don't be smart." Mycroft looked stern. "We kept it in The Louvre for a reason."

"Obviously."

"Get it back and I'll knight you."

"Oh, isn't that rich?" Sherlock twirled his fingers and inspected his nails. "Sir Sherlock Holmes, what a nice ring to it. Unfortunately for you I don't toady for the sake of having the Queen tap a stick at my shoulders and giving me an extra name I don't need. I don't need an incentive, Mycroft."

Mycroft smiled slyly. "Yes you do."

Sherlock looked up and narrowed his eyes at him. Mycroft continued. "I seem to recall you saying that you'll take the case, but only if Doctor Watson-"

"John and Mary deserve a good honeymoon, don't you think?"

"Oh I have every right to think so," Mycroft smiled widely. "If it weren't for you."

Sherlock stared at him with a glower, knowing the message behind it. "I'm not going to ruin his honeymoon Mycroft."

"Oh, of course you won't."

"Mycroft."

"I'll see you at dinner." Mycroft said cheerily, taking his leave.

Sherlock glared at the door as it closed.


Oh yes, I probably should mention, I don't own Sherlock Holmes, or any of the places I've mentioned.