Chapter 1: The Long Road To Italy Part 1

After calling his older brother, Sherlock gave John a warm smile. "It's time to ask when this house will be available to us and of course, you have to ask Sheila as well. She would be the only one who knows if she will be able to join us for three weeks.

"So, your brother will really pay the price?"

"Of course, he will. As I told you, peanuts. He wants me out of town, so let it be. I don't mind, "the detective replied with a grin.

John was amused. For a moment he had the feeling, that Sherlock was kind of excited to get away from London. When the blogger opened the site of 'Airbnb' and tried to contact the owner of the house, things got desperate again. Sherlock saw the look on his best friend's face and asked, "What's the matter?"

John just sighed, "I can't do it."

"Why? Just ask for three weeks, what's the problem?"

"The problem is, that I can't write in Italian."

"Try it in English. The program automatically translates your message," the detective replied.

"I used English last time, trying to book a hotel with a swimming pool. I ended up in a club, where half naked women were trying to impress me."

"Sounds like you had a hot vacation," the detective giggled.

"Hot? Yes. Funny? No. Relaxing? Never."

Now Sherlock sat down in front of John's Laptop and immediately recognized something else. "You are working on a new blog?"

"Yeah, I thought the Moriarty case would be perfect."

Sherlock looked at the title. The broken violin?"

"That's how it started. You don't like it?"

"My sister broke a Stradivari. How am I supposed to like the title?"

While the two men were arguing, the detective wrote some short lines in Italian, hoping the owner would reply. Maybe Mycroft was right and those three weeks would help him get some strength back. Since the Moriarty case was closed, for the first time, Sherlock recognized how exhausted he was. He was slightly weakened by the massive blood loss which he had just survived because of his friend.

"You know what? Maybe your title isn't such a bad idea."

"Glad we're on the same side here," the blogger smiled while watching Sherlock writing in Italian. "When did you learn the language?"

"Well, I had Latin in school, so there is a direct connection to the Italian language. And when I chased down Tim's network, I was in Italy for a few months."

"Are there any languages you still don't know?" the blogger asked amused.

"Of course. Turkish, Japanese, Swedish. See? There are things Sherlock Holmes does not know."

John tried to supress a grin, "Like the solar system?"

"Not exactly the same," the detective replied calmly while typing the last of his sentence. When he pushed the button to send the message, it took only five minutes for the owner to respond.

John immediately got suspicious. "Sherlock, what have you written to that man?"

"Nothing."

"Come on, you can't fool me. I know that face."

"I just told him, that we are from Scotland Yard, investigating a crime and his home maybe a part of it."

"Sherlock! You can't do that. Italian people are very sensitive and if they find out they were betrayed, they get very angry, believe me."

"Come on John. We don't want to waste time. I know Airbnb and I can tell you, most of the houses are occupied or the owner isn't going to answer in time. All I did was use a little lie, so we can have our vacation."

"Remember my words, Sherlock. You will regret it."

"Let's see, what the owner answered. Ah, I see. He says he's very interested in helping the police and he says we can have the house in two days."

"In two days? Well, I guess we need Mycroft's private jet then," John said.

"Come on John! That wouldn't be an adventure. We are flying to Germany, then we will rent a car and drive all the way. We wanted to be independent, or did I get something wrong?"

"No, I guess we said that," John whispered.

"It's Puglia, John. Puglia is an area, where people still live in the past. In the late eighties, they still had no functional sewage treatment plant. Can you imagine? They were still leading their legacies into the water. You can't expect them to be as modern as we are here."

"How do you know? You told me you have never been on vacation since childhood," John got suspicious.

"I remember my parents had been there, telling me some things."

"Alright, we'll drive. But you have to do it because I am a very insecure driver," the blogger admitted.

"We fill find a way. Don't worry. Now call Sheila and ask her if she wants to join us."

The next day, Sherlock, Sheila, John and Rosie were anxiously waiting for the plane to arrive. They would fly one and a half hours to Stuttgart, from there they would visit the car provider 'SIXT', getting their Ford Transit and then the journey would begin. Sheila was very excited. Having some free time with John was rare and so she was hoping to get it now in Italy. Rosie was still very sleepy but being on her godfather's arm seemed to calm her even more and before Sherlock could react, the little girl was sleeping peacefully in his arms. John smiled and decided to take a photo of the two with his mobile.

When they were finally in the plane, Rosie was very excited and told Sherlock everything she saw. To the blogger's astonishment, the detective sat there, smiling. Sheila was watching the two also and dragged John to her ear, "Seems like they have a special bond," she whispered.

John nodded with a thin smile, leaned back and drifted off to sleep.

When they landed in Germany, they were greeted by rain.

"Seems like the two countries have something in common, "John murmured, while trying to wrap his jacket closer around his body. Sherlock had stuffed Rosie under his Belstaff, making sure she stayed warm. Since when was his best friend that caring, John wondered.

SIXT was right next to the airport and when they arrived, they were greeted by a German guy who looked like he wasn't even an adult.

"Guten Tag. Was kann ich für Sie tun?"

The three friends stared at the man in front of them, their faces a mixture of irritation and shock.

"Sorry, I see you aren't from here. My bad. I'm Lucas Holler, how can I help you?"

Sherlock now shook the guy's hand and introduced himself, "Sherlock Holmes. I was asking for a Ford Transit the other day."

"O, yes. I remember. The London trio. Just have a seat and I will look for your car."

All three sat down, waiting for the man to hand out the keys.

"That's strange," Holler suddenly whispered. "I found our Ford Transit right after your call but now, I can't find it."

"Wait, what does that mean," John asked directly.

"I… I don't know how to say this, but it seems like someone else got your car."

"Are you kidding me?" John was getting angry. "We travelled the whole way here and you don't have our car ready?"

"Calm down John. I'm sure we will find a solution, won't we Mr. Holler? I'm sure there are other big cars you can offer us."

The young guy was scared to the core. "I'm so sorry but all the other cars are unavailable," Lucas replied.

"That is… The most outrageous excuse I've ever heard! We paid for this car and it wasn't cheap, so get your ass up here and make sure we get our car!" John now yelled.

Sheila tried to calm the agitated doctor, but she knew it was useless. John was angry. And when John was angry, everyone should try to escape.

"Just calm down John. I will solve this problem in a minute," Sherlock replied with an evil smile on his face and grabbed his mobile. And when he had Mycroft on the phone, explaining their problem, the older Holmes couldn't wait to speak to Holler. When the talk ended, Lucas wasn't smiling anymore. Whatever Mycroft had told him, it seemed to work because now there was hope again.

"I have one car left. It is the only car we can offer for this long of a period and I don't think you will like it."

"We will take whatever it is. Main thing is, we can continue our vacation," John instantly burst out and Mr. Holler just nodded, typing something in his computer. "Alright. Now let's go and get your car."

30 Minutes later…

"I can't believe it! A Mini Cooper?! A fucking Mini Cooper? Really?"

"Remember John, you were the one telling Mr. Holler that you would take any car available," Sherlock said, while trying to get comfortable behind the driver's seat.

"Yes, any car but this one! This here is a padded cell, not a car!"

Sheila and Rosie were sitting in the back seats, the paramedic not saying a word.

"We were supposed to drive in a Transit!" John couldn't stop his anger. The blogger was pissed and Sherlock couldn't blame him for that.

"Just try to see the positive side. We were able to spend a lot of money," the detective tried to convince him.

"Sherlock just one more word out of your mouth and I will make sure you won't see the sun go down."

"Why is it you are always threatening me with killing me? Are you that bored?" the detective wondered. A few seconds later they find themselves on the hard shoulder.

John jumped out of the car, walked around and pulled Sherlock out of the car. He was about to hit Sherlock straight in the face, but the detective grabbed his hand and prevented him from doing it. "John, now listen to me. We had a vow that this would never happen again, remember?"

The blogger tried to control his frustration, breathed in and out and finally calmed down.

"I'm sorry. It is just that I don't like where this is going. We were supposed to have a great vacation and now we are facing sixteen or more likely, more hours in a Mini Cooper, driving down to Puglia. I am shorter than you and even I have problems with the space."

"We will take a break every two hours to stretch our legs," Sherlock offered.

"Okay. This could work out but don't forget that the owner is expecting us to arrive during the evening hours of the next day."

"I already wrote him, telling him we had some trouble. He will wait for us," the detective grinned and returned to the car.

John also followed and soon they were back on the road. They reached Austria after two hours of driving. They had decided to drive until they reached the next country and now the four were standing in the parking lot, looking at the big mountains around them.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Sheila whispered impressed.

"They are so near," John replied.

"That's the reason it's always raining in Austria," Sherlock grinned.

"England isn't much better. Just saying," John countered.

"So, what are the next steps?" Sheila wanted to know.

"Well, we want to reach the Brenner Freeway before it gets dark," the detective informed.

"So, one hour of driving again?" John asked.

"One hours and thirty minutes. After the Brenner, we will do a long stop. All I want is to reach Tyrol before darkness, if that's okay."

John nodded, "You're the driver."

It was around 4 PM when they finally reached the Brenner freeway. Sherlock was getting tired and as soon as they passed the border to Italy, everyone was cheering.

"At least it's not raining here at all," the blogger stated.

Sheila was getting out of the car, Rosie in her arms. "Rosie and I have to do little girl things. Don't drive away while we are busy."

While Sherlock and John were standing in front of the trunk, the detective opened the ice box, searching for something. The blogger was curious and tried to get a look over the detective's shoulder. And when his best friend came up with two frozen 1.5-liter bottles, the blogger was surprised.

"What is this?" John asked astounded.

"My father used to make ice coffee and ice chocolate for long journeys. I thought you would like it. It's one of the few positive memories I have of my childhood," Sherlock explained, not sure if it sounded ridiculous to John.

"You are sharing this tradition with us? That means a lot to me," the blogger whispered impressed.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. This is something very special Sherlock."

The detective smiled and handed one bottle to John. "Shake it," he said and now both men were busy with shaking, making some iced liquid.

When Sheila returned, she stared at the two men in front of her and started laughing. "I can't tell you how this looks right now," she let out, trying to suppress the laughs.

"What? We're making something special. It's a tradition Sherlock is sharing with us today," John said.

"From here it looks like you're shaking something else," Sheila replied, the laughs returning.

"Why is it that women always find something sexual in every activity a man does," John wanted to know.

"Hey, I'm sorry, okay? I was always this way and if you can't handle a laughing woman, I can start crying on command too, if that's better?" Sheila was looking at her partner, trying to suppress the urge to laugh again. Rosie was now laughing, too.

"Oh for God's sake. Come here and look what we have for you," the detective now interrupted, the first plastic cup in his hand.

Sheila did as she was told and when Sherlock handed her the first cup, she was totally impressed. "Wow, Sherlock. This taste is amazing! Oh my god."

Rosie was also thrilled by her cup of iced chocolate and emptied it in less than a minute.

John took his first sip of iced coffee and stared unbelievingly at the detective. "Wow. I never tasted such good coffee. And I am really the no sugar type."

"Well, as long as you like it, I'm happy."

"I am. I really am. Just keep that memory, you hear me? Never delete it."

"Like the solar system?"

"Like the solar system," John replied with a big smile on his face.

When the group decided it was time to continue the journey, it was 5PM. The first signs of darkness appeared and Sherlock became obsessed with making it as far as possible.

They were able to drive over 5 hours, Rosie and Sheila sleeping in the back row and John was fighting to stay awake.

"If you want to sleep, just do it. I'm already looking for a place for the night," Sherlock whispered.

"I can't."

"What's wrong with you? You haven't spoken a word for the last two hours now," the detective asked worried.

"It's nothing. Just thinking a lot lately."

"Sounds like you are triggered by something," Sherlock replied.

"I am and it's irritating me."

"You want to talk about it? The two ladies are asleep, so whatever you need to talk about, I'm here," the detective offered.

John cleared his throat. "A few years ago, I just came home from Afghanistan and my sister invited me for dinner. I had no driver's license at that time, so she offered to come and get me with her car. I thought it was a good idea, hopefully some family time, you know. After seeing so much death and pain it was so good to have my family back or at least a part of it. We were driving through the night, when my sister lost control of the car, front crashing into a nearby tree. She was mostly unharmed but I… I was pulled out more dead than alive. I had a broken jaw, internal bleeding and a brain injury. They later told me that my sister was drunk behind the wheel."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know. No wonder you are staying away from her," the detective whispered.

"Since that night, I swore to myself that I will never fall asleep when someone else is driving."

"Hopefully, we will soon find a gas station, so we can rest for the night. We still have eight hours left before we reach our destination," Sherlock informed.

"There was a sign, the next gas station is twenty-five kilometres away," John replied sleepy.

"That is exactly the station I decided to go to."

Seventeen minutes later they found a beautiful parking lot and when the car was finally at a stop, Sherlock took a deep breath.

"You alright," John asked worried.

"Sure, just tired from driving that's all."

"I need to pee. Can I leave you for a minute?"

"Mind if I join you?"

"Of course not. Sheila and Rosie are deeply asleep, so I think it's safe to leave the car," John answered.

The two men stepped out of the Mini Cooper, both yawning from stretching their stiff muscles. Together they walked to the toilet. While they were walking, John giggled, "We've never been that slow, Sherlock. Not since we had met for the first time."

"It's just tiredness, my dear Watson. Even with your walking stick you have been faster." Both men giggled and when they finally sat door to door on the toilet, disaster struck again.

"John? Do you have any toilet paper left?"

"Oh no. Please don't tell me yours is empty, too."

"What now? A strong shake wouldn't help here," the detective replied dryly.

"Same here. What are we going to do now?" the doctor sounded desperate.

"We have two opportunities. First one, leaving without using toilet paper, the other one is asking for help." Sherlock still sounded kind of chilled.

"I'm a doctor. I can't leave without… You know…"

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it," Sherlock whispered and started to call out for some toilet paper. It worked and suddenly a hand appeared under the left partition wall, handing him a new roll. "Mille grazie," the detective mumbled.

When both men finally returned to their car, Sheila was standing behind the trunk, looking for something to eat.

"Now that was a long journey," she teased the two.

"It wasn't our fault. There was no toilet paper and John couldn't leave uncleaned," the detective informed.

"Well, thanks for telling everyone about my toilet behaviour," John murmured.

"Enough teasing guys. I'm hungry, so where's the food?"

"Food?" the detective asked surprised.

Sheila and John looked at each other and then at Sherlock.

"Oh no. Don't tell me you have forgotten that we need to eat."

"Of course not," Sherlock replied and showed them Mycroft's credit card. "I thought my brother could pay for our lunch, too."

"You stole his credit card?" Sheila asked amused.

"No, I just borrowed it," the detective grinned.

"Well, what are we waiting for? I'm starving," Sheila said while looking at John. "You're coming with us, Sherlock?"

"No, I will watch over Rosie. Just enjoy your food."

When the detective was alone with Rosie, he leaned himself on the engine hood, staring at the stars.

"This is going to be a great vacation."

Now Rosie started to stir and the first tears started following. Sherlock took her out of the car, holding her in his arms. "Are you hungry little girl?" he asked her softly and was rewarded with a nod. "Well, guess we have to join your Daddy and Sheila then."

While the two were walking in the direction of the restaurant, the cicadas were chirping all around. Sherlock smiled. He never heard those insects before but instantly liked the sound they were making. When he stepped into the restaurant, John immediately caught sight of the two.

"Now that was a very long time to enjoy our meal in silence," he said with a grin.

"Sorry, I tried to calm her but she's hungry and so I decided to get her something," Sherlock replied and positioned the plate with the spaghetti on the table.

"I hope I bought the right thing," the detective said shyly.

"Of course. Rosie likes noodles, especially the Italian ones," John replied with a smile.

John asked Sherlock to join them at their table. The detective still hasn't eaten anything since morning.

"Hey Sherlock, why aren't you eating something? There are still a lot of hours to drive," Sheila tried.

"Not hungry but tired. If you don't mind, I would like to go to the car and have a little nap. Now that Rosie is awake, I doubt we will get any sleep." And with these words the detective left the restaurant.

"You know what? He's right. We won't get any sleep now. While Rosie is awake, we should make sure that he can rest a few hours. There was a playground behind the restaurant and we still have 24°C." Sheila smiled at John, who was nodding at her.

Meanwhile, Sherlock was lying in the small car seat, trying to get some sleep. He was so tired, but never had the time to get a deep, dreamless sleep. Of course, he had been in the ICU a couple of times, lying in an induced coma, but it had nothing to do with real sleep.

Now, for the first time after a long period of time, he closed his eyes and drifted off…

Two hours later, it was around midnight, John and Sheila decided it was time to return. They were also getting tired and they were hoping Rosie was as well. When they silently returned to their car, Sheila started to giggle, "Look at him. He's so sweet. You have to see this."

John stepped next to his partner and looked through the window. His best friend was curled up behind the driver's seat, sleeping peacefully. And without hesitation, the blogger took his mobile and started to take photos.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sheila asked surprised.

"It's just too sweet to not remember this moment," John whispered and smiled.

When they entered the car, both did their best to prevent any noise but it was useless. As soon as the door opened, the detective shot up, alarmed and instantly grabbed John's wrist.

"Sherlock, calm down. It's just me. Please, you're breaking my wrist," the doctor winced and when the detective realized what he was doing, he loosened his grip.

"God John I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"No, just a little scratched skin, but it will heal," the doctor replied while rubbing his wrist.

"So, what's the plan? We are now at Rimini and we still have over seven hours to drive," Sheila wanted to know.

Sherlock turned round and looked at Rosie, who showed no signs of being exhausted from the playground.

"I guess the best shot we have is to drive on and wait for her to fall asleep again," Sherlock said and stepped out of the car, walking away.

John, not knowing what was going on stepped out of the car, too, following his best friend.

"Hey, where are you going?"

The detective looked at him and smiled, "I have a mission."

"You want me to join you?"

Sherlock nodded and John discovered that the detective was walking back to the restaurant.

When both men entered, the detective walked to the coffee bar and a big smile formed on his face. "I've always wanted to do this as a child," he said to John and when he was asked what he would like, Sherlock grinned, "Two coffees please."

John stared at him unbelieving, "Coffee? Really Sherlock? You are going to have a normal coffee at a coffee bar?"

The detective didn't answer and when the woman behind the bar turned around, she placed two little coffee cups in front of them. The doctor looked at the little cup in front of him, a big question mark on his face.

"In England we would say Espresso," Sherlock explained while taking the first sip.

"So, in Italy it's not Espresso. It's just coffee?"

"Exactly my dear Watson," Sherlock replied while enjoying the different tastes on his tongue.

Now the doctor was getting curious. He grabbed the little cup and when he felt the first drops of the creamy espresso on his tongue, he had the feeling a whole new world was opening up. With a big smile now forming on his face, he looked at Sherlock and said, "This is amazing. I've never had such good coffee before."

"Welcome to Italy my friend," the detective replied while enjoying the rest of his Espresso.