Authors Note: HEYO! XD Please tell me what you think; I would love to know XD I own nothing and no one, apart from the following: Fredrik Jones, Theodore Wells.

JUST SO YOU KNOW: This is my FIRST attempt at Sherlock and Johnlock, so please be kind!

Please, please review XD

ALSO: I made up middle names and first names for certain characters, just so I had something to work with ^_^

P.S. Know it's been a while, BUT I've graduated my Masters Degree in Creative Writing, and I'm trying to write my own book! I'll be trying to write more now, so, PLEASE BE PATIENT WITH ME!

Chapter 15

Sherlock

Mycroft and I were still suspended in disbelief when we took our seats with Gregory and John. Our seat numbers correlated with four seats around a table at the end of our carriage, near the toilets and luggage racks. Gregory and John had taken care of our bags, finding space for them quickly, before they ushered my brother and me into the window seats – presumably, so we couldn't make too much trouble.

Surprisingly though, considering it was the summer, there weren't too many people in our carriage, with around sixty per cent of the seats occupied.

I wasn't completely sure how I was feeling. I had never been on a holiday before; I didn't think I ever would, let alone to somewhere like Disneyland. As children, we were rarely allowed to watch TV, so children's shows and movies hadn't been part of my growth. I knew of them, of course. How couldn't I, when they appeared everywhere? Wherever I looked, others my age would have toys or bags or lunchboxes of some show or character I didn't recognise. It was hard to miss.

I wasn't introduced to the movies I had missed out on until I had moved in with the Watsons.

"I think this is the first time I've seen them speechless," Gregory snickered, taking a drink from his water bottle. "Better savour it while it lasts."

"I don't know," John mused, grinning. "It's a bit disturbing, don't you think?"

"Disturbing or not, it's peaceful."

Mycroft was the first to break out of the shock, turning to Gregory with a pout and a playful frown, hitting his arm lightly. Still laughing, Gregory moved the chair arm that separated them and wrapped his arm around my brother's shoulders, pressing a gentle kiss on his forehead. I watched as Mycroft melted almost instantly, a pink hue lighting his cheeks and the tips of his ears as he ducked his head down.

"Aw, come on, you know I don't mean it," Gregory teased. "I can't help it; especially when you look at me like an angry kitten."

I couldn't help the small upturn of my lips as I watched my brother and his partner. I had never seen Mycroft quite this happy. When our parents were out of the house, when we were with Sherrinford and Mrs Hudson, both of us would relax and enjoy the time we had. It was always filled with laughter and smiles and love. But he had never looked as content as he did when with Gregory.

If only Sherri could see this.

Mycroft cuddled into Gregory's side; he closed his eyes and rested his head on Gregory's shoulder. Humming softly, Mycroft smiled lightly.

"I do not look like a kitten," Mycroft stated. "Angry or otherwise.

"Yeah, you really do, My." Gregory chuckled. "An adorable, little tabby kitten."

"Do not."

"Do too."

Tuning the banter out, I glanced out of the corner of my eyes at John. Like I had been, John was watching the couple in front of us, a fond smile fixed on his face. Recently, since Mycroft and I had begun speaking and spending time together, John had been doing that a lot. Watching them and smiling. Sometimes, like now, the upturn of his lips was warm with friendly affection; other times, it was sad and almost longing. But he had Mary now, so there was no reason for him to be upset.

As I watched him, John rubbed lightly at his shoulder, the slight chill of the early British morning air aggravating his bullet wound. You didn't need a mind like mine to foresee that it would happen. British weather was known to be a fickle thing, so you had to prepare for everything. Even if that meant carrying an umbrella with you when the forecast had predicted nothing but sunshine. Shifting in my seat, I rummaged around in my satchel, which I still had on top of the table.

"Here," I mumbled, handing John the item once I had pulled it out of my bag. "Put this on."

Startling a little, John turned to me, staring at what was in my hand for a moment as I plugged it into one of the charging ports the train offered. It was only a few seconds before he grinned brightly before he reached for it with his right hand.

"Thanks," he said. "Completely forgot to bring this."

"I know, that's why I picked it up." I shrugged.

At Christmas, I bought John an electric, two-in-one heated and massaging shoulder brace. Though he didn't need the actual brace, it at least allowed for him to have his hands free when he needed to use it; he could still write or read or whatever he needed to do at the time. Both the vibrations and temperature had three settings – low, mild and high – so John could adjust them as needed.

For now, after he had fixed it around himself, John put it on the lowest vibration and mild heat.

A soft sigh came from John as the brace began to do its job. He leaned back into his seat, closing his eyes and resting his head against the back. It would take a few minutes until the heat started to do a decent job in helping John's shoulder, but the initial heat took the edge off at least.

"God, this feels good," John said to himself.

Shuffling in his seat, John shifted lower until he could comfortably use his stomach and chest as a rest for his arm. It didn't take all that long before his breathing had evened out. Rolling my eyes, I used my foot to hook and move John's backpack, dragging it from where it sat on the floor by John's feet. I had seen this coming. Unzipping the bag, the moment it was close enough, digging out the squashed neck pillow. Carefully manoeuvring John, taking care not to wake him or jostle his aching arm, I slid the pillow around his shoulders and leaned his head to the right.

John hadn't slept well the night before. Like every other night, John stayed in my room. After reading a chapter from his favourite book – The Hobbit – we had both curled up under the covers after the book was closed, John forcing me to stay in the bed, instead of working on my experiments, because of the early morning we would have. I had put up a fight beforehand, of course, but I had to admit I always felt a little sleepy after he finished reading. I had woken after a couple of hours to John tossing and turning. He hissed and grunted as he shifted around; he put as little weight on his left shoulder as possible, while also wrapping the duvet around it to try to get some kind of warmth into the muscle. I had sat up wordlessly, grabbing one of the wheat packs John kept in my room, using the microwave I had put in the corner to warm it up. He had sat up with a sigh, muttering a tired apology. However, even after the heated pack was placed on his shoulder; even after it had done its job, John still hadn't managed to get back to sleep.

By the time the ache had ebbed away enough for him to ignore, it was already time for us to get up.

Sighing, I reached into my satchel again and took out the notebook John had bought me earlier, grabbing with it one of the pencils I had picked up. With John asleep, I had no one to occupy me. Talking to Mycroft was still new and awkward; even if I had wanted to, he and Gregory were far too engrossed in each other. Instead, I put in my headphones and listened to music, as I noted down an idea for a violin arrangement of my own that had been floating around in my head.

Should keep me occupied for a few minutes.

John woke up a few minutes before we had to change trains ninety minutes later; as soon as we took our seats on our connection, he put the brace back on with both settings on low. His shoulders were no longer as tense as before, at least.

"Good nap, Sleeping Beauty?" Gregory smirked.

"Yeah, it was, thanks," John snorted. "Didn't have to look at your ugly mug for over an hour."

Gregory threw the small paper ball he had made at John; John hit it back easily with his hand, the ball swan diving onto the table, before rolling off onto Gregory. The two sniggered, grinning as the train started to move.

"And people say I'm childish," I muttered, trying to hide a small smile.

"That's because you are, Sherlock," Mycroft countered, lightly.

"Well, so are you."

Eyes narrowing our eyes at each other, Mycroft folded his arms over his chest as he began to open his mouth.

"Now boys, let's put the toys away," John sighed, playfully, still grinning. "There will be no bickering on this trip."

"No bickering at all, until you learn to not take it too far," Gregory agreed.

Looking away from them and glancing at each other, I was sure Mycroft and I both felt the same sheepish awkwardness. Of course, it was true we took it too far. We always did and had done since our relationship had broken down. We could no longer banter like we used to, not like Gregory and John could.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I forced my face to not betray the tinge of sadness that began to well up inside of me. I wasn't sure Mycroft and I could ever get back the relationship we used to have. In all honesty, I wasn't sure I could have a relationship like that with anybody. I had only seen functional, real-life relationships for the past ten months and two weeks; so how could I ever have one with another person, romantic or otherwise?

"While I concede the point," Mycroft said after clearing his throat lightly. "How are we to learn if we do not 'take it too far'?"

"Well, let's get you two more comfortable with talking to each other first, yeah?" Gregory suggested, gently.

Biting at his lip, Mycroft stared down at his lap as the tips of his ears turned red. With ease, Gregory took Mycroft's hand in his, leaning in close to whisper to him; turning away, I watched as the world outside the window pass by. I reacted slightly when my notebook, which I got out again once we had sat down, was moved. But I didn't look until it was nudged into my arm.

You alright?

It was written on a new page, in John's somewhat neat scrawl; a small doodle of a dog was peaking over the line it was written on.

I'm fine.

I wrote my reply quickly, sliding the book until it was in the middle of us. I watched as John frowned at my reply, a small crease forming between his eyebrows.

Liar. Want to talk about it?

Somehow, a lot of the time, John seemed to know when I wasn't being one hundred per cent truthful. Sure, there were still times he couldn't identify it, but he seemed to know me well enough to pick up on it.

No.

I wasn't sure how I would explain it anyway. How could I, without sounding pathetic?

For a moment, John contemplated my answer; I could see him going back and forth between pushing for me to answer and moving on.

Want to play Hangman?

John and I had played Hangman for an hour, the two of us going back and forth. John would use his phone to find words to try and stump me, but it didn't work. But it was entertaining nonetheless.

In the end, it did its job and helped me relax.

We arrived at the Disneyland Park at, around, half-past ten that morning, what with Paris being an hour ahead of London.

The first thing we did was head to the hotel, taking the free shuttle bus that went between the parks and hotels. Gregory and John had booked for us to stay at Disney's Newport Bay Club, located on the shores of Lake Disney; it was one of the closest hotels to the parks, only taking fifteen minutes to walk to them. The only downside? The smell of fish hit you when you walked in, the scent coming from one of the two restaurants.

The hotel itself was nice though. It was a seaside mansion, designed in a nautical 1930s theme and a colour theme of blue, white and gold-brown. Once we walked up the stairs to the main floor of the hotel, we found the concierge. Within minutes, Gregory and John had checked us in before leading the way further into the hotel.

We had two rooms next to each other. Mycroft and Gregory in one, John and I in the other.

"Right, I think we should relax for a bit," Gregory suggested as we all stood outside the rooms. "Then we can get some room service for lunch; eat together? Maybe explore the hotel, or go in the pool? Might be best to save the real excitement until tomorrow."

"Sounds good to me," John grinned.

"I agree," Mycroft nodded.

I just shrugged.

I wasn't entirely sure what I was supposed to do – I had never been on a holiday before. It was easier to follow along with what they wanted to do and try not to complain. I didn't want to get in the way of everybody enjoying their time.

After biding a quick 'see you later' to Gregory and Mycroft, I followed John into the room and closed the door behind me.

To the right was a short hallway. A built-in nook to the left held a clothing rail, several clothes hangers, an ironing board attached to the wall and an iron. Opposite it was the bathroom sink, a large mirror above it; a bar of soap with Mickey Mouse engraved in it sat off to the side next to two glassed; a towel rack with two pristine white towels hung on the wall to the left, whilst a wall hanging blow-dryer hung on the wall to the right. Further in, through the open-door way, was the rest of the bathroom. Another towel rack hung on the wall directly in front of the door, next to that was a shower and bath combo behind a Disney's Newport Bay Club shower curtain; the toilet was hidden behind the door.

Straight ahead on the left, once you walked through the door, was the side of a white wardrobe; next to it was a bin, and a small table, which held two standing menus, a bottle of water and four glasses on a black tray, with two chairs either side of it. The wall above the table had a picture of a fisherman on a boat manning the wheel. Opposite them were two double beds, both covered with blue sheets that had white flower details; white slatted wooden headboards that had a ship's wheel at the top, in the middle, against the wall. In between the beds was a chest of draws, on top of which was a phone and two more standing menus; above the draws were two light switches that controlled the lamps above each bed.

The walls of the room were white, with a red border around the top with blue waves in between the red lines; the flood was covered in a two-toned blue spotted carpet. The light switch for the main lights was mounted on the edge of the wall that the clothing rack nook was on the back of, at the end of one of the beds. At the far end of the room, next to the table and the other bed, were doors that were mostly glass, leading out onto a small balcony overlooking the lake.

"Now, I know it's not like home," John said, turning to me when he reached the middle of the room. "But it's nice, right?"

I nodded, still standing at the edge.

"I like the sea theme," I admitted, quietly.

"I thought so," John chuckled. "Honestly, that's what pushed me to choose this place. I mean, you like pirates, right? That's why, when you were younger, you called your dog Redbeard?"

Staring at the young man in front of me, I couldn't help but feel baffled.

"You chose it because of me?" I repeated, slowly.

"W-Was that not– Should I not have?" John stammered, face falling. "I didn't– I thought you'd might like it…"

John reached his right hand up to rub the back of his neck, his eyes glued to the floor as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. It felt like my stomach had dropped; my chest tightened ever so slightly.

"N-No, it's not that!" I replied, quickly. "I just– That's not happened for… Well, for a long time. Sherri was probably the last one that did something because he thought I'd like it."

John didn't question me any further on that. Honestly, I didn't want to expand. Instead, he smiled softly and gave a small nod, before asking which bed I wanted.

P.S. Know it's been a while, BUT I've recently finished my Masters Degree in Creative Writing! I'm HOPING to be writing more now, so, PLEASE BE PATIENT WITH ME!

Please, please review XD

Thank you ^_^