It was halfway through the train ride when I opened my eyes. The sun was just starting to come up behind the hills, making the sky beautiful colours. I remembered the ferry we had to take in order to get from there to Paris. Even after all these years, I still didn't really care for boats, or anything that didn't operate on solid ground. But then I remembered that the water was frozen over so there was no way that any boats would be operating for the next few months, so almost as soon as my worries appeared, they disappeared and I relaxed again.

My mother was probably at home now, getting an early start on the day. Grandfather would be getting some fresh air right about now, and my father was heading off to work. We wouldn't be there for another few hours, so I grunted, laying my head back down. Maybe if I tried not to think about how long it would take for us to get there, the faster we would actually arrive. I had come to learn that not thinking about something that's about to happen, makes it happen faster, or not happen at all.

My eyes were closing shut and my vision was starting to travel to much more pleasant things, things that I don't think I could bring up without grinning from ear to ear. I smiled to myself.

"What are you thinking about that's making you smile so much?" I heard Sherlock whisper with a small smirk on his face.

"I didn't know you were awake."

"I have been this whole time, I have just been really quiet." He cleared his throat and sat up straighter.

"You can't sleep?" I questioned.

"Not really," he admitted. "I've slept, but I keep waking up."

"It happens when you're away from home," I said, adjusting my position so that I was able to look up at him without having to crane my neck up.

"We don't have to sleep, we can just stay up and talk," he suggested.

"That would be nice," I replied.

"But you still haven't answered my question."

"I was thinking about you," I said.

He blinked a few times, obviously surprised by my confession. "I didn't know that thinking of me could make you smile."

"You make me smile more often than you think."

And so we did, and without knowing, we'd both fallen asleep.

Hours later, we woke up assuming we had passed through a tunnel, because one second it was pitch black, and the next it was light. The sun still wasn't shining, it was only the gray light of a cloudy day. France was cloudy, a lot like England, only where was the snow? I remembered the last time we came here, it was cold, but not enough to snow, which at the time, was good for us because the last thing we needed was to cross over from France to Germany on foot in below zero weather.

"We're here," I whispered and I felt it when he tilted his head. I glanced up at him through heavy-lidded eyes and he smiled at me sleepily.

"What time is it?" he asked me, rubbing his eyes and carefully stretching.

I looked down at the pocket watch. "Almost half past one."

"Really?" He was surprised. Even though it was the middle of the afternoon, it looked like it was still morning. "That's the most sleep I've ever gotten."

"To be fair, we were awake earlier than usual." I shrugged and then stretched, too. My back was stiff from sitting on the train for so long.

"We still have a moment until we arrive," he said, reaching up to grab one of the suitcases and then hurriedly going behind a partition.

"What are you doing?" I asked. I stuffed my favourite scarf haphazardly into my suitcase with the rest of my luggage, since I didn't really need it.

"Making sure that no one recognizes me," he replied.

With a few minutes to spare, I took the pins out of my hair and then fixed it up so it wouldn't look so bedraggled, flinching as I got my fingers caught in one of my waves. There were a few tangles that I must have forgotten to brush out last night.

"You know, I could just cut all of my hair off, make it shorter." I said haughtily, sitting back down.

"Why?" he asked. "Your long hair suits you."

"I've seen other women do it. It might look flattering on me."

"No it wouldn't. You would look odd with short hair."

"It would be an adjustment," I said, pretending not to take that last comment too harshly.

"Why would you want to do it anyway?"

"Just the whole process of detangling it, combing, and styling it is a chore. Plus the hairpins pinch."

He laughed at that. "You're not getting all cut off, are you?"

"I was actually thinking that we could have matching hair cuts."

"Are you absolutely sure you want to cut your hair?"

"Honestly, I don't see the problem with it."

"It's just not proper for a woman to wear her hair like that."

"And since when do I care about what's proper and what's not?"

There was a short pause before he said, "That's why I adore you. If that's what you really want, then as soon as we arrive at the hotel, I will see what I can do."

"I didn't know that you could cut hair. I always thought it was John who did it for you."

"Most of the time, yes, but seeing as how he and I will not be seeing each other as often as we normally would, I have to learn to do it myself."

"Very well then."

Just then, he came back wearing a heavy coat, glasses and somehow, he made his hair look straighter. He looked like one of those university students that I'd seen in my younger years. The important thing was that he was unrecognizable.

"Are you ready to go?" he said, making his voice sound a little bit deeper.

I bounced up and down on my feet impatiently.

"I'll take that as a 'yes' then?"

I nodded and finally, we stepped off the train and onto the platform. I breathed in the fresh air,

The hotel was appealing on the outside, and it was close to the Eiffel Tower. In fact, we were right in the heart of the city. The gray sky matched the aesthetically pleasing buildings. It looked just like it did in the postcards that my Aunt Daisy sent me. The last time we went to France, I remembered it not being as nice. But maybe the whole feeling of chasing down a criminal made the whole trip more stressful.

As soon as we arrived at the hotel, which had indeed been remodeled, I took a deep breath in and then stepped inside. It was exactly how I imagined it to be, luxurious, respectable, clean, and well-furnished; The entire floor was covered in a mahogany carpet with gold stitched into it. It matched the ornate arm chairs and wallpaper that was the same colour but with hints of gold.

Also, everything was fiercely polished. I could clearly see my reflection in the glass windows. I could see the people passing by and some of them would look inside and see me, others would come in through the door. I cast a quick look around the room and nodded with approval.

"It seems they've touched the place up since we were last here," I whispered. If I hadn't been there myself, it would never have occurred to me that someone had tried to bomb this place.

"It certainly does look nicer without any holes in the ceiling, or dead bodies lying around."

It was at that moment that my husband became very tense, and at first, I believed it to be a sign of post traumatic stress from the bombing. I would know because sometimes when my grandfather and I would go out, and we would pass by a certain spot, he would become anxious and I would have to lead him away from wherever or whatever it was.

But his eyes were focused on someone, a young woman with auburn hair and pretty gray eyes that stayed locked onto us for several minutes, until she was inclined to speak to the receptionist.

"Are you alright?" I whispered, but he didn't respond. "Do you know her?"

"You're alive?" she said, turning around swiftly. From what I could tell, she was an American.

"I thought you were-," he said, struggling to speak.

"I thought so, myself. Someone found me, brought me to a hospital and the doctors helped me to get better. I called for you, I waited for you to come and rescue me, but-"

"I should have known better than to let you go alone."

"Don't blame yourself, I paid the price for my own actions." She sighed. "Then again, hadn't I died, you would have never met her."

"She reminds me of you," he smiled. "Wait, you two know each other."

"We've met before, twice," I said. "We were friends. Well, acquaintances."

"I would have liked to have been friends, we could have traveled together, but then the whole scandal of the missing diamond occurred, and I doubt that your dear parents would approve of you hanging around a criminal." She stopped suddenly and it was as if she was afraid. "Is he..?"

"No," he said hurriedly, hoping to calm her. "There is no way he survived the fall."

"How did you do it, then?" she asked.

While he was telling her the story, I stayed silent. Not because I was jealous or anything, though from the way they were laughing with each other and how close in proximity they were, one would have assumed that they were either together, or just close friends. I wondered if people recognized us, I doubt that anyone who knew of Sherlock Holmes would know who I was unless they were part of our team.

"And how's life been treating you," he finally asked. "Still causing trouble, stealing hearts?"

"I've chosen to put that old life behind me. I've resumed my singing career. In fact, I have a recital tonight, if the two of you want to come-"

"We would love to, but we have a dinner date tonight," I said much too quickly. I did not find it agreeable that she would intrude on our honeymoon. I stared at her pretty face, surprised to see it look rather disappointed. In my mind, all she wanted was Sherlock. But I could see that there was no sparkle in her eyes, she was scared, almost wary.

"I didn't know the two of you were married," she said. "I thought you didn't believe in marriage."

"That might have been the case then," he said, shrugging. "Yet, I cannot say the same for now, It seems as though my heart has been taken and my mind has been changed." he said, placing his arm around me.

"She's had some influence over you," she said. "Right, well, I'll leave you to it."

"We should catch up soon," I blurted out. "We have a lot to talk about."

"How about you join me for tea tomorrow at noon, unless you and your husband have other plans."

"She'll be there," he grinned, giving me a playful look and I shook my head at him.

Her face instantly lit up and her soft pink lips turning up into a warm smile that in spite of myself, made me feel good. "I'll see you then, Charlotte," she said, and without another word, she disappeared as if she was never there at all.." My eyes caught Sherlock's for a moment, but he was staring at the ground.

"Are you alright?" I asked him.

"I am now," he placed his hand in mine and once we got the key to our room, we went down a hallway with red velvet pinned to the walls. The room itself was almost like the lobby but a little bit smaller, with one bed a fair sized closet, comfortable chairs and a wonderful view of the city. I removed my heavy coat and hung it up on the hook.

"How did she do it?" he said to himself, but I heard every word. "He was clever, but she found a way to work around the problem, she always found a way."

"You know there is that one spot on the neck, that if you press it, it temporarily prevents a pulse."

"You're right, Watson would have said something along those lines." He was starting to remove the disguise, but I stopped him.

"Don't take it off just yet, you do remember we have dinner tonight, or is your mind elsewhere?" I asked.

"Of course not. My heart is yours, and yours alone."

"Then I don't have to worry about you running away with Irene?"

"She and I are friends and nothing more," he said.

"Come on, I know you better than that, everyone said that you were in love with her, and that-"

"They didn't know me at all. It was very farfetched."

"Alright, well, maybe you didn't necessarily love her, but you did care for her."

He was quiet for a second. "Yes, I cared for her, but then I found you."

"Am I anything like her?"

"No, you are like yourself."

I smiled back and then went to change into my new clothes. I chose to wear a deep blue dress with lace around the neck and sleeves. Irene told me that it no longer fit her, so she lent it to me as a sort of peace offering. I carefully scooped up the dress in my arms, sliding it on. I had always been the kind of girl who was afraid of mirrors, but I decided that today would be an exception. I stepped out in front of one, a small smile forming on my face when I saw my reflection.

We strolled along the streets of Paris; my eyes darted left and right, it was part of our job to keep our guard up for any sign of trouble, but for now, everything seemed peaceful and calm; the clouds had disappeared for the time being, allowing the full moon to shine over the city. I glanced behind to make sure that no one was following us, there were two couples, but none of them were paying attention to us. It was colder than it had been this morning, so we had to dress in one extra layer.

I playfully smirked towards him. "You know, I can actually get used to this look," I smiled. It was always remarkable to me the way he could play multiple characters when it was really just him the whole time.

"Yes, it's quite flattering and it makes for a great disguise." He scratched his chin. "I have made the reservation under the name Berkeley."

"That's very charming, using my maiden name," I said. "And what does this alter ego of yours do for a living?"

"I suppose I could pass for a university student."

"The hair does make you look younger. Now, how about getting rid of that facial hair?"

"I want to keep it, thank you." A moment later, he added, "You do look lovely in that dress."

"You think so?"

"You could wear anything and make it look beautiful." He stopped walking. "Even nothing at all."

I shook my head. "I don't think you'd want me to parade around town in nothing, would you?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "No, it would make other people stare, and I don't want anyone to want to have you but me."

"And you never have to worry about that, I'm yours."

We walked the rest of the way in silence, staying as close together as we possibly could. I leaned against the wall closing my eyes. A violin soloist stood on a small stage and played. "Adagio con moto," Sherlock mumbled, as he walked alongside me. "Mozart. B flat."

I raised my brows, offering a small smile. "Impressive, as always."

He stopped walking again and took my hand and pulled me into a dance. If people were staring, I wouldn't have known because I had my eyes closed, and I didn't care, either. Once again, it was just us in this third dimension of the universe where no one else was allowed in.

Even the best disguise could not hide his obvious discomfort as soon as we sat inside the loud and busy restaurant. Social situations were never his strength. I tried to keep his focus on me instead of allowing him to pay attention to what everyone else was doing. Even though we requested to have a table at the back of the room, he could still hear everything that was going on.

His hands couldn't stop twirling around one another in his lap, and I felt like if I didn't get out of that room, it looked like he was absolutely going to burst through the window.

"We can leave if you want to," I said. I'd learned to pick up on anxious tendencies, "We can go back to the hotel and have a nice dinner."

"I'll be alright, just talk to me, help me keep my mind off of things."

"I don't have anything interesting to say," I said.

"Anything you have to say is interesting, something about your childhood. I want to know about the younger you."

"Are you sure? I don't have a lot of embarrassing stories."

"We all have embarrassing stories to tell."

"Well, there was this one time I brought home a cat without my parents knowing about it, or the time I fell in the creek in my brand new dress."

"A cat? How could your parents not know about a cat?"

"I was able to hide her in the cupboard for three days so I guess I had a talent for keeping secrets. No one knew but Jane. She was this cute gray cat that I found outside the bakery, she was hungry, so I bought her some biscuits and I brought her home."

"And what did your mother and father say?"

"My mother was shocked, but my father instantly loved her, so we ended up keeping her, though Mother insisted on keeping her away from the furniture because she didn't want cat hair. We did find a bed for her that was nice and comfortable."

"It's been a while since we've actually been able to have a moment to ourselves," I said, trying to prompt a small conversation.

"It's nice not to have anyone eyeing us like hawks and waiting for something to happen." He smiled towards me, taking a silent sip of his water.

"Do you see anything that looks good?" I asked, picking up my menu and looking at it. I'd already gave it a quick look over twice, but I needed something to keep myself occupied.

"Other than you, no."

I flicked my eyebrows up and he was grinning widely.

I smiled back and as soon as our meal arrived, we felt a little more relaxed.

"What's gotten into you today?" I laughed, taking a bite of my food.

"What? Can't a man compliment his wife without a specific reason?"

"I wouldn't know, Sherlock," I said in a low voice, "After all, you are the detective."

I didn't realize how much quieter it had gotten since we arrived. There were couples scattered here and there, but they were all talking in hushed tones, so it was easier for us to hear each other. Neither of us said anything for a while, just enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere of the place. I was not the most talkative person growing up, and I rather enjoyed keeping to myself; that was one thing that we had in common, so if there was nothing to talk about, neither of us cared, we were perfectly capable and content to just sit here and live in the moment.

So this week I had a lot of writer's block and I just wasn't feeling all that motivated, but I feel like as an author it is my responsibility to continue with this amazing story and stick with it until the end. And last minute, I thought, I feel really bad not having Irene in the story, so I decided to switch gears a bit and come up with a cute little snippet. I hope you enjoyed and see you all next time.