Chapter 3

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John sat at the table, alone, in the dining area of the hotel. Clothed in his favourite cream jumper he sat happily, eating a full English that was cooked to perfection.

That morning Sherlock had left muttering something about his 'stupid brother needing to know everything'. John has simply just wished him goodbye before deciding to get up as well. Sherlock may be the detective but he can do some investigating too. In the time Sherlock had gone John had observed the main entrance, where the staff room was and watched about eight different couples come to and go from the dining hall. So here he sat, with his full English, feeling pretty proud of his work done so far. He only wished Sherlock had been here to eat something as well.

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Peter had woken to Hector stumbling around the end of the bed, trying hard to but his pants back on.

"Hector?" He asked, voice groggy with sleep. He saw hector look up at him before flashing a kind smile.

"Go back to sleep, darling. I need to go out" he stated quietly before walking over to Peter's side of the bed and pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead.

"Where are you going?" The man in bed murmured.

"The drop off point" Hector stated quietly as he ran his hand through Peter's golden hair. Peter closed his eyes at the feeling, purring in content.

"Be careful" he sighed as Hector moved his hand away.

"As always" the smaller man smirked as he moved away from the bed, tucking a gun in his jacket.

"I love you" Peter called from the comfy nest they created, watching Hector grasp the door knob firmly.

"I love you too" he looked back to his lover before proceeding out the door and into the hall. A soft clunk came from the door locking as it closed, leaving peter to silence. He looked around the room, sunlight was seeping in through the blinds but the clock in the night stand informed him it was six in the morning. He gave out a small sigh of joy at the thought of an extra hour in bed before rolling over. He pulled the covers up to his chin, taking comfort in the faint scent of Hector emulating from his pillow. Then allowed himself to sleep.

Now he's here. Showered, shaven and sharp. He walked confidently across the dinning hall, dressed in a tailored suit with polished shoes. A small smile graced his lips at the feeling of making multiple heads turn.

No wonder Hector is so protective.

A small voice in his head snickered quietly as he walked past a group of young women. They giggled quietly among themselves, clearly debating on wether or not to call him over. Peter turned his head slightly as he heard one lady call out but that's when he saw him.

Hector. Only it wasn't Hector. This man was sitting quietly at a table, wearing a cream jumper-Hector hated jumpers, they made him itch-hair fluffed out -never a style Hector used because it made him feel scruffy- and was gladly eating mushrooms! Hector had once almost thrown up at the sight of them on his plate, he would never even think of touching let alone eating them.

Peter stared frozen for slightly too long, people were beginning to stare. And not the usual 'bugger me,he is fine' stare but the 'is he in need of medical treatment' stare. Peter casually shook off the awkwardness that lingered around him like flies to a dead body and decided to put his skills to good use.

Confidently he sauntered up to John's table before neatly sitting in the chair in front of him.

"You looked lonely, mind if I join you?" He asked softly, watching as John lifted his head to greet the stranger.

"Sher?-" he cut himself off mid sentence as surprise set in.

The look on John's face went from: shock to annoyance to denial to confusion in the short expanse if two seconds. John knew Sherlock was great at disguises and all but this was masterful. The hair looked so real, was it real? Sherlock would never get rid of those gorgeous curls. He once cried real actual tears at a crime scene when a suspect pulled out a clump of his hair during a fight. So this was something very irregular but John went with it, if Sherlock was undercover he best not give it the game away by blurting out his name.

John changed his expression back to a soft warm smile as he gazed up at the man before him. He was just so spectacular at times.

"Sure, I don't mind" he shrugged before returning to his breakfast.

"Oh, thank you" Peter smiled as he relaxed into the seat. Carefully, he took note of all not-Hector's features. They were impeccably the same, like looking a slightly edited picture if his lover. He just couldn't believe Hector would put up with such attire and he was certain he left wearing his grey suit and black turtle neck. Where were his clothes? Where did he get these from? It could be possible that he was undercover, maybe it would be a good idea to use the code. Just to be certain.

"I must say I do admire your nose" Peter stated quietly from the other side of the table. John looked up at him with a look of confusion on his face.

"My nose?" He questioned, more to himself than Peter.

Guillam's heart felt erratic, beating wildly. That was not how he was supposed to respond, Hector would always say with a grin "thanks I stole it from my father" then wink. But no, this wasn't the case. When they had first come up with it- just after peter had accidentally punched Hector because he was dressed as a guard, they decided on the code phrase- they promised to never sway from the code. So this was undoubtedly not Hector but just had the most scary resemblance to him.

"I must say I didn't catch your name" Peter inquired, leaning across the table slightly.

"John Watson" he beamed before presenting his right hand to the man. Peter smiled, storing the information away into that marvellous brain of his.

"Peter Guillam"

Words couldn't describe John's expression when the heaviness of those words sunk in, and the realisation that he was shaking hands with the target, a trained killer and murderer hit him like a truck.

You've reached the end of published parts.

⏰ Last updated: May 25, 2017 ⏰

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