OMG. I'm so sorry it too so long. Explanation down the bottom. I'll shut up now. Go on. Read. :D
Chapter 19
0845
Room no. 110
Sofitel Hotel
Melbourne CBD, VIC
"Don't you think we should use our cover names?" Lestrade asked,
"Yeah, probably," Sally cracked a grin and the DI found himself responding with a small smile.
The new MI6 agents had been put into one of the cheaper rooms at the Sofitel Hotel and Lestrade was unbelievably glad that they were posing and brother and sister. He was, most definitely, not ready for the need to act as a newly married couple. Thank god for small mercies.
He stared out of the window as the light reflected off Eureka, the gold at the top of the tallest building catching the morning light and reflecting in every direction, blinding anyone silly enough to look at it. Greg smiled as he thought about how much Juli would've loved to be here. To stare out at the city below and not worry whether or not he was going to come home that evening. The DI stoped those thoughts there.
Because he knew where they were going to lead – straight to one doctor who seemed to be on his mind a lot lately. Whether he liked it or not. He grimaced as he shifted in his chair and then jumped as Sally spoke,
"Sorry, didn't mean to make you jump," she smiled softly, and Lestrade looked up into her dark eyes. It was obvious that she thought she knew what he had been thinking about. Well, she's partially right, Lestrade thought, as Sally continued, "Do you want to use the shower first or shall I?" she asked,
'You go," Lestrade said and Sally nodded,
'Okay. I won't be long," with that she turned around and headed towards the shower,
'Don't use all the hot water!" Lestrade called out half-heartedly, but the pitying smile was still on Sally's face and Lestrade knew he hated that it was directed at him, but he returned it, despite what he was feeling.
The bathroom door shut with an echo and left Lestrade to his thoughts.
1047
Melbourne Streets
Melbourne CBD
VIC Australia
The need to call each other by their undercover names pissed John off more that it should've but he hated the way the name Pierre rolled of Sherlock's tongue. To him it just sounded like Sherlock had said it too many times before to someone else. The doctor told himself that it was his stupid imagination and that Sherlock was an excellent actor, but John could not make himself feel any better over that.
"Pierre?" John managed to smile convincingly,
"Yeah?" he asked as they continued their walk down the street from their hotel.
Sherlock sighed as John looked away from him and to the towering buildings to their left. He knew the doctor hated their cover names, but there was nothing that could be done about it. Sherlock let his gaze wander further and realised that it wasn't the smartest idea he ever had.
John had chosen to wear a black T-shirt that was not tight, but showed his figure off far too much for Sherlock's liking and the jeans…the detective had to remind himself they were in public every time he thought about John's Dark Blue Jeans. Capital letters completely necessary, even in his head. The Dark Blue Jeans were sinfully tight. Dear God, why'd I let him out of the Hotel in those? Sherlock asked,
"You were going to say something?" John asked, turning his green eye back towards Sherlock, watching as they snapped up from examination of what he was sure was his legs,
"Yeah," Sherlock said, noticing the slight blush of John's cheeks
"Let's catch a tram from the main centre – Flinder's Street Station." The detective said,
"Why?" John asked, suspicious,
"Because, it'll be fun," The sun glinted off Sherlock's metallic shirt and the pale skin beneath that shirt momentarily distracted John before he managed to look up again,
"How do you know that we can catch a tram from there?"
"I heard of it,"
"Heard or researched?" John muttered under his breath and Sherlock dragged John along,
"Don't be dull, Pierre," the detective said, "Of course I researched it," Without waiting for any further protests from the doctor, Sherlock ran across the busy road and John was sure that if the madman kept this up, one of them was going to get hurt.
Why did I marry him?
John thought, before that little, annoying voice in his head replied,
You didn't.
John grimaced and, next to him Sherlock laughed, the sound so open John forgot his internal argument as he watched the detective's face light up,
'Don't worry Pierre," Sherlock paused, his eyes glinted as he surveyed the man standing next to him, lingering on the way the jeans revealed the muscles beneath, "I won't get us killed," John returned the grin and let Sherlock pull him along.
Shut up…I might one day…What?
The doctor rolled his eyes as his own thoughts, briefly wondered for his sanity, before letting the adrenaline of running take over.
1155
Tram to St. Kilda
Melbourne
VIC Australia
They were on their way to St. Kilda and John didn't even know where that was. Sherlock did. He had his phone out and was tracking their movement,
"Bob," John said, watching as the dot that was their decidedly shiny tram was taking "Are you even paying attention to me?" John asked as Sherlock continued to stare at the phone. Again, he received no answer. Right. He wants to ignore me now, does he? John tried not to allow the wicked grin onto his face as he turned to Sherlock,
"Bob?" he asked, and then, hoping that the only other occupant on the tram was not watching them, he leaned over slight and allowed one hand to rest on Sherlock's thigh.
Sherlock tensed and John couldn't stop the smile as Sherlock looked up,
"Pierre," Sherlock said, hoping that John would resume his irritated pose at the use of the name but was disappointed as the green eyes shone with amusement,
'Yes, Bob?"
"Stop calling me that," Sherlock said, keeping his voice low,
"Why?"
Somehow, the detective thought, he manages to look adorable even when there nothing cute about what he was doing. At least, in the infantile sense, at any rate.
"You will respond to the name won't you?" John asked, whispering in Sherlock ear and running a hand up the leg, the fingers so light Sherlock actually bit his tongue to keep any sound from coming out. This wasn't the most appropriate place for that.
John ran his hand back down the jean-clad thigh, the hard muscle beneath tensing before relaxing and Sherlock had a feeling that his heart was about to give way at the proximity. The detective nodded as he believed his voice would crack if he said anything. At thirty-four, that was not acceptable.
"Good," John whispered, "I might have decided that I would show my own little protest against the name when we got back to the hotel by-"
"Please don't complete that sentence," Sherlock said, trying to keep his tone light and failing quite miserably.
It was John who needed to pause this time as the deep tones of Sherlock's voice washed over him, leaving him momentarily stunned. Who would've known? John thought dryly, that one day Sherlock's voice would be enough to make me forget where I am?
"Why not?" The doctor finally managed to form coherent words, still below what could be considered a whisper,
"Because, two can play at that game," Sherlock said, his eyes locking onto green orbs that glowed with both desire and amusement.
Several moments past and both of them jumped when the driver announced that it was the last stop – St. Kilda beach.
"Beach?" John asked, as he led the way off the tram, blinking and telling his mind that now was not the time for any reactions thanks to Sherlock.
The detective followed behind him, and as they stood at the stop, he wrapped one arm around John's waist for the first time since they'd ever been together,
"Sh-Bob?" John exclaimed, remembering the cover name as he turned around in surprise,
"Married, remember?" Sherlock had a smug smile plastered across his face at the scandalous looks they were getting from the women across the street – who, seconds ago had been eyeing John up in his Dark Blue Jeans.
"I can't see you living a domestic life," John said and wondered when his brain had given the command to talk.
Yes I can! With ME!
The doctor watched as Sherlock gave him a narrow look through the eyelashes,
"Why not?"
"I…" John faded off, "want some ice-cream?" he winced at the anything but smooth topic change as the light to cross went green and this time John led the way across, a curious detective in tow.
Federation Square
Outside Flinders Street Station
Melbourne CBD
VIC, Australia
Sitting on the steps of Federation Square, Lestrade soaked up the warmth that flooded the tiled area. He sighed as he laid back and was about to drift off for a quick nap when a shadow fell over him,
"Oi!" he said opening his eyes to see Sally standing over him, holding a light green dress,
'What do you think?" she asked, and Lestrade had to squint against the sun to get a good look,
"Good," With that he closed his eyes again and hid a smile that wanted to show itself as he heard a sigh,
"Any other words?" Sally asked and he shook his head, smiling slightly,
"Nope," He was about to add that he was useless when it came to shopping when he jumped as his back pocket vibrated,
"Hello?" he asked, almost dropping the phone as he pressed answer. Sally had to stifle a laugh as Lestrade talked,
"Hey," Lestrade would've known that voice anywhere,
'John?" he asked,
"Yeah,"
Before leaving, they had decided if there was any contact between them, they would use their real names – except for Sherlock, because really, how common was that name? He was called James. So that if anyone managed to listen to a mobile phone's call, they would think it was a fake name,
"What are you currently doing?" John asked,
"Sitting and watching as Sally tries to figure out what to wear and which dress would look good," John laughed, "They all look the same to me,' Lestrade added, and there was a thump on the other end of the line. Sherlock's voice spoke next.
"We're at St. Kilda Beach," he said matter-of-factly, "We'll see you in two hours?"
"What, why?" Lestrade tried to keep the panic out of his voice,
'Because. We're on holiday, remember?"
"But-"
'Greg," Sherlock's tone was one of a whiny child and Lestrade had to admit, he had always wanted a kid. Damn Sherlock for knowing exactly how to convince him,
"Okay," he replied, trying to look innocent as Sally almost bounced on the spot, wanting to speak to them, and he battled with images of John wearing nothing but budgie smugglers – he'd heard that term on the news. Something to do with a politician and it got stuck in his head – he was entirely sure that the rest of the world knew them as Speedo trunks. They left nothing to the imagination.
"I'll see you there," Lestrade ended the call and looked up at Sally,
"Well?"
"We're going to the beach,"
"Really?" The shine in her eyes was worrying.
"Yes," He answered, stretching the word out as if he needed her to understand,
"Did you remember your swimmers?"
"No," Lestrade had a feeling where this was going and as Sally said the next words, he knew he was in trouble,
"We have to get you some swimmers!" she exclaimed, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the trams, completely ignoring the way that he was, in fact being dragged which spelt out, quite clearly, his reluctance. Two police officers who were watching chuckled as he was manhandled across the road.
Swimming and Diving Shop
St. Kilda Foreshore
Melbourne
VIC Australia
At St. Kilda beach, much the same was being done to John with an overly excited Sherlock and a pair of board shorts that were so loose John wondered whether they'd stay on in the water. He didn't even want to go swimming. That was why he joined the army. Not the navy.
"Bob," he said, whining slightly,
"Yes, my dear Pierre?" Sherlock grinned wickedly from his bent over position to look up at John who was leaning exasperated against one of the stands. He promptly swore as said stand almost toppled over and it took his army reflexes to grab it and right it before he was left paying the bill. Although, the bill wouldn't even put a dent in the money he had, according to his bank accounts.
Still, John thought as Sherlock pulled out a bright red pair of board shorts, with white streaks on the side and thrust it towards him, I would much rather keep that money for…well…something else. Like my lover blowing up the bedroom when he gets bored at the hotel, which he will do, I am sure. John had to allow himself a small smile even as Sherlock demanded he 'take his pants of right now or face the consequences' much to the horrified glance of the shop assistant, able to be seen over the top of the change cubicle.
Presidential Suite,
Sofitel Hotel
Melbourne CBD
VIC Australia
Not too far away, as the sun blasted the earth and people flocked to the nearest place that would cool them down – the beach or icehouse, the greatest skating rink – one man sat in the Sofitel Hotel's presidential suite – after all, he owned the thing – and stared at the beautiful, bustling city below.
"When did they arrive?" he asked, allowing his hand to rest on the girl sleeping next to him, his light brown hair still spiked despite his recent activities, his bright blue eyes glowing at the thought of more money and more fame in the underworld,
"This morning, sir," was the prompt reply on the other end,
"Oh good…" He reached over to take a drink from the wine glass that sat on the bedside table, the silver ring with a sword carved into it in intricate detail catching the light and flashing in the golden sun,
"Mr. Howell sir?" the tentative voice came from the other end,
"Yes?"
"He's a gambler sir," A wolf's smile spread across Howell's face as he considered all the possibilities.
For years now, he had been trying to get his hooks into the British market, and now, one billionaire, a certain Pierre Mannu was his ticket to that market. Victory could not be much better – especially if this Mannu was made to suffer for it. Nothing like a bit of grovelling and pleading to cheer you up, he always thought.
The underworld king took another drink.
"Good," Howell's reply finally came and sneered in disgust as a sigh of relief came through the phone. The way these people grovelled made him feel slightly sick,
"Will you approach them sir?"
"No. A gambler with that much money is bound to know about the high rollers game at Crown. I will see him there," Howell hang up without any further words and the girl on his chest woke up.
Sapphire eyes shone at him, "Stewart?" she mumbled, black hair falling into place,
"Shut up," he said, pushing her off him as he got out of bed,
"But-"
"I have more important things to think of. I also have a meeting," He didn't even bother to turn around and talk to her. He should've really. He should've seen the loathing in her eyes. And He should've seen the way that she stared at the bread knife on the table and then back to him.
Being the arrogant bastard he was, that didn't happen.
BUGGER FANFICTION! It wouldn't let me update! I couldn't bloody upload anything and – GAH! – It's driving me friken bonkers!
GAH! *screams at wall*
Better now. Apologies for leaving you so long. Bit longer than normal, though, yeah? Made up for it?
*Big, puppy dog eyes*
Love you guys,
Aza
xoxo