Chapter 37: Honeymoon

Emma sat down in an armchair in the flat she shared with Sherlock; she had to write a reflective paper on her time in English class this semester, and then she would be done for Christmas break.

Sherlock had told her that he was planning a secret vacation with her, as a way to say he was thankful she was back, and as a sort of Honeymoon. Emma was unsure about where he had gotten the money from, but did not know how to bring it up delicately.

The truth was, though she knew him well, she was not quite sure about his income. She thought he did all of his detective work for free and that he had no other job, but he was easily able to pay for the flat they shared, with no help from her.

She shook off the distracting thoughts and instead focused on the last paragraph of her essay – as soon as she finished this, she was free from school until the middle of January. As soon as Emma had polished her draft and emailed it to her professor, Sherlock came into the room.

"Where have you been?" She asked, closing her laptop.

He looked around almost nervously, at anything but her. "I was cleaning a few things in our room, trying to make more room…and I found something."

Emma cocked a brow, her interest piqued. "What did you find?"

Sherlock sat down on the armrest of her chair and pulled a small box from his robe pocket. "It belonged to my grandmother – I forgot I even had it here." He handed her the closed box.

"Is this what I think it is?" Emma inquired, her fingers dancing lightly across the felt box.

Sherlock sat tensely, waiting for her to open it. Though she had already married him, he still felt the pressure associated with the woman actually seeing what had been picked out for her to wear as a symbol of her dedication. Emmaline opened the box and a small gasp escaped her mouth.

"Oh Sherlock, this is beautiful." It did not look like an engagement ring, which made it lovelier. It truly fit the both of them she thought, looking like a relic of a time long past.

"I'm glad you like it." He whispered, the tension rolling from his shoulders as he stooped over to pluck it from the box and place it carefully on her finger.

"I'm allowed to wear it?" She wondered aloud, still staring at the ring.

That lanced his heart; of course she could wear it in public…but he understood what she meant. "It doesn't look like a normal ring does it? I want to see you wearing it." He kissed the side of her head, closing his eyes as the familiar orange scent washed over him. It was just like being in Florida again he thought.

Emma took the opportunity to turn her head and capture his mouth with hers in a sweet thank you. He smiled and rested his forehead on hers. "So," she began, "where are we going?"

Sherlock groaned and stood from the chair. "Can I not keep it a surprise for my wife?"

"Not even a hint?" She pleaded her brown eyes wide.

Sherlock sighed. She would figure it out if he told her anything, but he was having trouble keeping it a secret any longer. He wanted to see the look on her face when he told her, but he wondered how much better her face would be when she saw instead.

"You'll just have to wait until tomorrow, when we arrive."

"Right, when do we have to get up again?"

"We have a ten o'clock train to catch; and we should pack tonight." Sherlock said, heading to the bedroom.

"Well what should I bring?" Emma called after him. "I don't even know where we are going."

"I'll pack for you – how about dinner?" Sherlock told her, peeking his head around the corner.

"You'll pack for me, and yourself?" Emma shrugged. "Alright I suppose." She left Sherlock to it and went to the kitchen. She was hungry, as it was almost 8.00 in the evening.

"Seriously though, where are we going?" She yelled through the flat.

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"That was not as long a ride as I thought it would be." Emma said, hauling her luggage from the overhead slot. "So, do we have a connection or is this it?" She asked, following Sherlock from their carriage and down the hall.

"No, this is it. We will be here for five days and then we catch a train back home to London."

"So we will be back home right in time for Christmas." She noted.

"Right; this way." Sherlock took a left and stepped off the train and onto the platform.

Emmaline looked around for any sign of where they might be; it was a definite that they were no longer in England. The air was clearer and the sun shone brightly, reflecting over the gleaming snow. She looked around and listened; signs giving directions in English and French, people speaking French…she looked at Sherlock, her eyes and mouth wide open.

"Are we in France?" She asked excitedly.

Sherlock down at his wife, glad that he had kept this from her. The look on her face was worth fighting every instinct that had told him to tell her right away.

"We are." He confirmed. "Paris, in fact."

"You took me to Paris for our honeymoon?" She cocked her head, her eyes shining.

"Was that not right?" Sherlock asked, questioning his decision immediately.

"It is perfect, silly man." Emma dropped her bag and threw her arms around his neck, melding her lips to his.

His bags hit the stone platform floor as he wrapped his arms around her warmth, pulling her closer to him and reciprocating the heat emanating from her loving kisses.

"Sherlock this is perfect; France means so much to you, how could we have gone anywhere else?" She asked, her cheeks pink from the cold and the heat at the same time.

Sherlock cupped her cheek and kissed her one more time. "I'm glad you approve."

How could I not approve? You kept a secret, you surprised me! She thought. Very uncharacteristic of him, but done for her. They could have gone to Cardiff and she would have been happy.

"Let's get to our hotel." He told her, picking up their bags.

Emma followed him excitedly, drinking in her surroundings. Breathing in the Paris air, feeling the sun on her face and the cold air trying to nip at her through her coat, seeing Sherlock's long coat fanning behind him as he hailed a cab…she smiled. He tried so hard for her, she saw it, and there was absolutely no reason to. She loved him how he was, but she appreciated this as well. The part of him that went far to make her feel like she was married to a normal man.

Settling into the cab, Sherlock told the driver in French where to go.

"You speak the language much better than I do." Emma commented.

"Well, you can get some practice here then." Sherlock took her hand and smiled.

"I can." She leaned over and kissed him chastely. "So, what are we doing on this vacation?"

"I thought we could see the sights, visit some museums…cuddle for warmth." He rested his head on hers, allowing her body to meld closer to his, his arm around her.

"Sounds lovely." She sighed contentedly.

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"Oh Sherlock, that was fantastic!" Emma said, opening the door to their hotel room. She threw her coat on a hanger in the closet and kicked her boots off.

Sherlock was right behind her, unwinding his scarf. "It was one of the best art museums I think I have been too."

"Ahh." Emma threw herself onto the bed, sinking into the downy comfort. She grabbed the blankets around her and wrapped up, warmth seeping into her bones.

"I'll order some room service." Sherlock told her.

"I think I'll shower quickly then." She announced, forcing herself out of the blankets.

Sherlock waved a hand in her direction, acknowledging that he had heard. She stepped into the bathroom and started the hot water, peeling off her layers. She sighed as she stepped in, the stream washing the final layers of cold from her bones, warming her flesh. She stood there under the water, just allowing it to take her away, back to London and how she had to go back to her life the day after next. Only one more day in Paris – what would they do?

As she shampooed her hair, she thought of what to get Sherlock for Christmas; the man was difficult to shop for, and even after knowing him for three years, she felt it hard to buy him things.

Washing the soap from her hair and body, she heard a knock on the door.

"They said it would be a half-hour until the food arrives."

"Alright! I'm almost done." She called.

"OK, I think I should shower as well." He said.

She waited a few moments, before continuing to rinse the soap from her arms and legs. Just as she was ready to turn the water off and get out, she heard the door open. She had left it unlocked, but she had not expected anyone to come in.

"Sherlock?" She asked tentatively.

She heard the shower curtain open behind her, felt the cool air prickle her skin, and she turned. There was her detective.

"Why didn't you say something? You scared me!" She accused.

Instead of answering, Sherlock leaned down and kissed her, hard. She put out a hand against the shower tile to keep herself from slipping and his hand quickly covered hers. She felt his hunger, his need, stoking her own. It had been weeks since their most intimate contact due to her finals and his busy schedule. Since coming to France they had been so busy being tourists that they had forgotten the Honeymoon bit.

She kissed him back with just as much fire, tracing his lips with her tongue. He nibbled on her bottom lip, pulling it with his teeth before thrusting his tongue into her mouth. There was nothing sweet, nothing gentle about it this time. They both knew that their time spent apart from this had led to a ferocious need and there would be no gentle caresses and taking as much time as they wanted.

He turned her around and entered her, pushing his whole body against her as their hands intertwined against the wet tile wall. He murmured sweet nothings in her ear, kissed the back of her head, trailed kisses up and down her spine as he continued to thrust furiously behind her before they reached their sweet release and he sagged against her. Her legs like jelly, she supported him and they held each other under the hot water still running.

She turned the water off and they stepped out, drying and putting on the plush robes provided by the hotel. Their food arrived and they sat on the floor in front of the fire Sherlock had built in the fireplace, his head in her lap as they ate.

"This is the best vacation I have ever been on." She told him.

"I'm glad." He answered honestly.

"I love you." She said, taking a sip of her wine.

"I love you." He replied, sitting up to kiss her.

"So I think I know what we should do tomorrow." She said in between kisses.

"What's that?"

"This." She answered with a smile, pushing him to the floor and working off his robe.

"What about finishing dinner?" He asked.

"Screw it." She replied, descending on her husband.

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"You know, I loved Paris, but it feels good to be in London again." Emma said as their cab dropped them off at home.

"London does have a charm to it." Sherlock agreed.

Emma lifted the trunk and got the bags out, setting them on the sidewalk; Sherlock paid the driver, and just as the cabbie pulled away, Sherlock's phone beeped. He pulled it from his jacket pocket and looked at the screen.

"It's Lestrade – there's a kidnapping he wants me to look into.

"Go." Emma urged.

"Are you sure?" Sherlock asked, hand already risen for a cab.

"Of course; this is what you love." She told him honestly.

A taxi pulled up to whisk Sherlock away to Scotland Yard. Before he went he kissed his wife and whispered "and you" against her lips.

Emma smiled as her husband drove off before looking at the bags around her feet.

"Right; so how am I going to do this?"