A/N I should win some sort of award for missing so many days in a row. To my credit, I was sick, and recovering from both the Doctor Who finale and the Supernatural premiere. I HAVE EXCUSES.

Thanks to ThisDayWillPass, 265, Guest, johnsarmylady, 3star

Disclaimer I don't own Sherlock or any associated characters, events, etc.

XXVII. Foreign

"What are you doing?"

Sherlock looks up quickly from the suitcase that he's been piling clothes into. Straightening as soon as he catches sight of John, he places his hands on his hips and scowls, his eyebrows and lips tilting down as though weighted by irritation. "What does it look like?" he snaps, his voice thickly exasperated. John shrugs, shying away from the moodier-than-usual detective.

"Alright, no need to get defensive," he murmurs. "I was just curious. Planning on traveling somewhere?"

"Japan," the other confirms, returning to his task.

"Japan?" John repeats incredulously, eyes following Sherlock's slender hands as they swiftly bundle together a pair of socks. "That's… a bit sudden, isn't it? Do you have a case?"

"Obviously. A particularly baffling string of murders that have the local and national authorities at a loss. Mycroft knows one of the officials, informed him that, if he paid all the expenses, I would take a look." The last word is snarled, and he flings shut the top of the suitcase, zipping it in a series of quick, rough motions.

"Why did you take it? You obviously aren't interested." John crosses his arms and leans comfortably against the wall, head lolling slightly as he takes in Sherlock's unusually distressed appearance: dark hair even more matted and unruly than usual, charcoal-hued crescents underlying wide and bloodshot eyes, lips and neck stiff with frustration.

"I'm not being given a damn choice," Sherlock spits. "My brother kindly arranged it with Lestrade that I won't be given any more cases in London until I agree to go along with this one. He's holding my work hostage," he finishes, an almost childishly whining undertone layering his low, strained voice.

John is tempted to laugh at the melodramatic metaphor, but he instead pulls together a straight face, sufficing to raise his eyebrows. "Well, it could be worse. I hear Japan is awfully nice this time of year."

"It's a tedious waste of energy," Sherlock objects belligerently. "There's too much involved. Jet lag, flight times, exchange rates, foreign housing… damn it."

"Well…" John bites at the edge of his lip, carefully considering his next words. He certainly doesn't want to make any promises that he can't necessarily keep, but at the same time, it twists his stomach to see his flatmate in a state of such utter unhappiness. "I could come with you, if you wanted… there's overemployment at work right now, in any case. I'd probably be taking the time off even without this."

Sherlock looks genuinely surprised, his face frozen in an expression of confusion. "Really?" he finally asks.

The innocent hopefulness in his tone brings an unwilling grin to John's face, and he turns to leave the room, hand lingering on the warm wood of the doorframe. "I'll go pack."