"So are you going to tell me where we're going?" I asked as Sherlock unloaded our suitcases from the taxi. Bryna and Gladstone were under the watchful eyes of the Watsons.

"Have I taught you nothing?" he smiled at me. "Use your eyes."

"We're at an airport," I rolled my eyes. "We could be going a bunch of different places and you won't let me see the tickets."

"I got in touch with some long lost relatives."

"Yours or mine?" I asked giving him a curious look.

"Yours."

"But I have no relatives. My parents were both only children and my grandparents passed when I was small," I replied as we walked into the airport and up to the check in.

"Ah but your grandparents had siblings. In fact, you're paternal grandfather had a sister who had her own children," he explained. "So you do in fact have relatives. Distant in both senses of the word."

"So you're idea of romantic weekend away is to go and see some distant cousins of mine that you just happened to scrounge up out of nowhere?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well they do own a B&B," he answered with a smirk.

"Which is where I take it we're staying?"

"Of course."

"And where is this B&B?" I asked.

"Can you not just wait until we get there?"

"Nope," I answered. "I'm an impatient person. How about a hint?"

He rolled his eyes, "You said your grandfather came from Ireland."

"You're taking me to Ireland?"

"Yes. Mary and George said you've never been. It's not terribly far and we could be back in a pinch if need be," he explained.

"We're leaving the country and our almost three month old daughter?" I asked. He stopped and looked at me. "Just making sure I'm grasping so when my chest explodes, I know there was a good reason."

"Can't you just trust me?" He chuckled. "Bryna's in perfectly capable hands. Besides, they'll need the practice."

I narrowed my eyes and looked up at him. There was a twinkle in his eye as he looked down at me. "Do you know something I don't know?" There was ghost of a smile on his lips. "Are they pregnant?"

"I have neither confirmation nor denial from either party, but I am of a firm opinion that Mary is. I think it's developmentally impossible for John to be."

"Oh shut it," I chuckled, smiling at him. "You seriously think she's pregnant?"

"There's a good chance," he shrugged. "Time will tell. Here's our gate."

I looked up at the sign. "Dublin?"

"Not where we're staying. There's a two hour drive after. We will be greeted by your cousin, Patrick."

"You get some kind of pleasure out of watching me squirm don't you?"

"In all ways, yes," he said kissing me briefly.

A little more than two hours later, we were picking our way through the other travelers. Sherlock held my hand as we weaved in and out, scanning everything. I had no clue who or what he was looking for, so I was content being dragged along. He led me outside. There was still a bunch of people. Sherlock scanned the cars along the curb and nodded towards a black Land Rover. I looked over and saw a slightly tall figure leaning against it. He had dark hair and perked up a bit when he saw us approaching.

"Sherlock Holmes?" he asked. Sherlock nodded. He held out a hand for Sherlock. "Please to meet you. This must be Charlotte then."

"Hi," I said as he shook my hand too. "Charlie, please."

"It's wonderful to meet you Charlie. My gram is especially excited to meet you, but she's at home. Name's Patrick."

"Nice to meet you Patrick."

Sherlock helped him load our bag in the car and got in the front. He had offered for me to sit there, but I told him too. His legs were longer than mine and I was fine sitting in the back. Patrick took turns talking our ear off and asking question as he navigated the highway out of Dublin. Sherlock's text alert went off and after looked at his mobile, he handed it back to me.

"John sent a picture of Bryna and Gladstone. Seems he hasn't left her side since we left," he said as I smiled at the picture.

"Bryna is the daughter right?" Patrick asked.

"Yes."

"And you two aren't married?"

"Is that a problem?" Sherlock asked as I shot him a glance to behave.

"It might be. Gram's a bit on the old fashion side. Not too fond of the whole kids and sex before marriage," Patrick explained. "If you'd want to avoid the hassle and be able to sleep in the same room, you best not mind pretending to be married for a weekend."

I smirked at Sherlock. Leave it to him to think things through. He met my gaze and raised an eyebrow at me. "I'm ok with it if you are. You're the one who has the issue with the subject."

"What happens if we don't?" Sherlock asked looking back at Patrick.

"Separate rooms and bible lessons," Patrick advised. "Not to mention long lectures that would definitely cut into any kind of sight-seeing time."

"Fine," Sherlock huffed. Inside I was shocked. I thought he'd give a bigger fight about, I almost expected him to considering I knew he didn't believe in the whole institution of marriage.

Patrick pulled in to a gas station a few minutes later. I waited until the door closed to question Sherlock.

"You sure you're ok with the whole pretending to be married thing?" I asked.

"Do I have a choice?" he grumbled before he reached into an inside pocket of his jacket. He handed me a small box causing me to inwardly freeze. I looked up at him. "Don't get excited. It's my mother's. She gave it to me to hold on to, for what reason I don't know. Probably thought I'd get sentimental or something. You might as well put it on if we're to keep up the ruse for the weekend."

I didn't move. I sat, hand outstretched, staring at Sherlock. When he noticed I wasn't moving, he rolled his eyes, snatched the box and opened it, taking out his mother's ring before grabbing my left hand and sliding it on. He snapped the box shut and shoved it back in his coat.

"Charlotte, really, if you need help being sensible like you normally are, I'll take it back when we get home," he drawled. I sat back, clenching my hand and crossing my arms, shooting him a glare. "That's more like it."

Patrick came back a few minutes later and less than a half hour after we were pulling into the drive of a quaint little Bed and Breakfast. Patrick shut the car off and opened his door. Sherlock and I followed as he unloaded our bag from the trunk. We followed him up the walk after he promptly refused Sherlock's help. The front door opened and a woman in her forties stepped out to smile at us.

"About time you made it back," she said when we got closer.

"Quiet," Patrick chuckled. "Charlie, Sherlock, this is my lovely wife Louise. Louise, this is Charlie Brennan and Sherlock."

"Pleasure to meet you both," she said looking at Sherlock and then me before her mouth popped open. "Oh you look just like great-gran when she was younger."

"Thanks I guess," I replied not really knowing what she was talking about. I had little to no knowledge of any family members other than my sister and parents. My grandparents had both passed before I was born and neither of my parents talked about their respective families.

"Charlotte probably doesn't know who you're referring to," Sherlock informed them. "I had to do research to find this lineage because she knows no one from either family outside the immediate circle."

"Well we'll be glad to fill you in," Louise chuckled grabbing my arm and pulling me up the steps, Sherlock following as Patrick had already disappeared with our bag. "Gram's just started dinner. Would either of you need to wash up?" We shook our heads. "Ok. Well, let me show you around and we'll end in the kitchen and you can meet Gram. How long are you staying?"

"Only the weekend," Sherlock answered.

"Yea, our three month old is home with our best friends," I explained.

"Oh you have pictures?" Louise asked smiling at me. I nodded and pulled out my phone and unlocking it I showed her my background. "Aw, she's absolutely adorable! Looks just you both."

"Thanks," I smiled.

Louise gave us the tour of the place, showing us the room we'd be staying in and completing the tour in the kitchen like she said. Luckily our room came with its own bath and was actually set up quite nicely.

When we arrived in the kitchen, a short old woman was stirring a pot of something on the stove. Her hair was white and tied back with a scarf. And though I knew she was probably in her late 80s, the way she moved around the kitchen could have fooled anyone.

"Gram," Louise said as we stood at the doorway.

"I'm busy," she snapped.

"Well Gram, our special guests have arrived," Louise said as she pulled me more into the room.

"Fine, come stir this then. I don't need it to burn," she said motioning at the pot. Louise rolled her eyes and patted my hand before walking to the stove. "Which one of you is the Brennan?"

"Guilty," I said as Sherlock stood behind me. Oh god, I hoped he behaved himself…