No Shit, Sherlock

Our First Trip

It's been a few weeks since we solved the case of the murdered detectives. I've spent most of my time with Enola, who I've noticed has been far more giddy than normal.

"Alright, what are you giggling about?" I ask, setting my newspaper down.

Enola sits at her desk while Tewkesbury sits across from her. Timothée is sitting across from me, but he's kept his eyes on the two of them since he got here. I can't help but feel slightly jealous. They've all been too busy laughing with each other to even speak to me.

"Nothing important," Tewkesbury insists.

I frown, "It's like you three don't even like me anymore."

"We love you, truly," Timothée says.

Enola nods, "We do."

I watch the three of them, trying to figure out what's going on. Tewkesbury's eyes drift back and forth between Enola and Timothée as the two of them talk. I've noticed Timmy and Enola have gotten even closer lately.

Timothée looks nervous. He coughs, gaining the attention of the other two.

"You three are hiding something."

A knock on the door pulls my attention away from the blushing Lord. Sherlock stands in the doorway, staring at me in confusion.

"Have I interrupted something?"

"Nope," Enola answers.

He gives her an unsure look, "Right. Well, we better start packing (Y/n). We have a long trip tomorrow."

I give my three friends hugs, and as I'm walking out, I wink at Timothée. He rolls his eyes at me, and I follow Sherlock out of the building.

"We're going on our first trip together."

Sherlock takes my hand, "We've been on a trip before."

"The detective meeting doesn't count. That was a business trip," I say.

He smiles, "Right. Then I guess this will be our first trip together."

~~°°••°°~~

Sherlock and I board the train, and we sit side by side. I stare out the window, watching the people outside.

"I finally get to see your childhood home."

He sighs, "Yes, but don't get your hopes up. Last I saw it, it was in horrible shape."

"I'm sure it's lovely."

The train starts to move, and I eagerly turn my attention back to the window. Sherlock holds my hand as he reads his book. I smile to myself and rest my head against the window. The scenery outside begins to change into empty fields rather than the woods.

I sit up and press against the window, accidentally letting go of Sherlock's hand. He scoots closer to me and takes my hand again, never looking up from his book. The sky is a bright blue, and the grassy fields are a bright green. If I were an artist, this would be the perfect picture to paint.

My gaze drifts back to the man beside me, his eyes meet mine, and he gives me a soft smile.

"Your beauty is mesmerizing."

My face reddens, "Thank you."

He closes his book and looks out the window. "The weather is nice today."

Sherlock nods to himself, something I've always found endearing. He looks back at me, "I'll show you the pond today."

"Sounds like a plan, Mr. Holmes."

He rolls his eyes but presses a kiss against my cheek.

~~°°••°°~~

A carriage was waiting for us at the train station, and the second the train stopped, I grabbed my luggage and ran out. Sherlock follows me, sighing as I wait for him to catch up. He leads me over to a carriage, and the driver takes our luggage to load it.

"Good afternoon, sir," I say cheerfully.

The driver smiles, "Good afternoon, ma'am."

Sherlock helps me into the carriage, even if it's unnecessary. He sits next to me, and the carriage begins to move. I look out the window, watching as we move through the woods.

After a few minutes, the carriage comes to a stop. Sherlock helps me out, and I stare at the house in front of us in awe. The house is older and covered in ivy and moss, but it's beautiful. It's much nicer than any house I've ever lived in.

"It's not much, but it was home at one point," Sherlock says.

I slowly spin around, trying to memorize everything around me. Sherlock picks our luggage up, "Let's go inside."

I reach for my suitcases but he pulls them away. We walk up the stairs, and he unlocks the door, gently pushing it open. Following him inside, I realize that the inside is even more beautiful. He kicks a shoe out of the way and mumbles to himself.

"We can sleep in the old guest room."

I follow him up the stairs and down a hall. As we're walking, I notice a door on the left. There's an old paper hanging from it, and when I look closer, I realize it has messy handwriting.

'Detective Sherlock's room,' is what the paper says.

The paper is yellowed with age, and the corners are disintegrating. I smile to myself. It's obvious that young Sherlock himself wrote the note.

"I had forgotten about that," Sherlock says, standing next to me.

I smile at him, "It's nice to see that even young Sherlock was passionate about being a detective."

"Wait, til you see inside," he says, pushing the door open.

I walk in to see that the walls are covered with old newspaper clippings about various detectives and their cases. There's a desk in the corner with magnifying glasses laying on it, as well as a monocle and a deerstalker hat. I pick up the magnifying glass and turn to Sherlock.

I hold it up and make faces, which earns me a laugh from the stoic man. He grabs my hand and lowers it, so I drop the funny face and smile.

"Come on, there are much more fascinating things than my old bedroom."

I set the magnifying glass back on the desk, "That can't be true. You are the most fascinating thing this world has to offer."

"Would you rather stay in this dusty room all day?" he asks.

I shake my head, "No, but we will be coming back."

"Fine, now let's go see the pond."