bright college days

11

On the first of December, John made dinner for the housemates. Near the end of the meal, Mycroft pushed away from the table.

"I have something important to discuss with you."

"Okay."

"Our mother is going to France for Christmas. She's invited us to come with her, but it would mean staying with our relatives in Bordeaux. And, frankly, I find dealing with our relatives nearly as exasperating as Sherlock does."

Greg and John snickered.

"I'm also aware that you're not close to your family, John."

John glared at the older boy. Mycroft ignored him.

"And so I was thinking that perhaps the three of us--or the four, if you would like to come, Greg--could go on a trip on our own."

"The four of us... on a trip together?" said Greg. "This will end well."

"It will hardly be any different than us living together," Mycroft pointed out.

Greg shrugged. "Let me talk to my parents. You remember how clingy my mum was; she might want me home for Christmas."

"Fair enough," said Mycroft. "What about you, John?"

"Well, I should talk to my folks, too; but I'll probably be able to come."

"Do you want to come?" said Sherlock.

"Yeah," said John, smiling at Sherlock. The other boy smiled back.

"Marvelous."

Mycroft found a resort in Inverness that had cabins to rent. He got one with two rooms for the week of Christmas.

The boys woke up early the day of the trip. They had decided to take two cars so they would have adequate transportation for their stay. It also meant John and Greg didn't have to hear the Holmes brothers arguing all the way there (or on the way back, for that matter).

The trip to Inverness was long, and despite leaving early, it was dark when they arrived. They parked in front of the office and got out to found out about their cabin. It was clear but cold, and snow crunched under their feet as they headed inside.

Mycroft walked up to the desk. The concierge walked up.

"Hello, may I help you?"

"You have a reservation for Mycroft Holmes."

The concierge looked on the computer.

"Oh... excuse me, I need to get the manager. It'll only be a moment."

The manager came out, looking rather contrite.

"Mr. Holmes. I'm Cecil Forrester. We... have a bit of a problem."

Mycroft looked understandably annoyed. "Problem?"

"You see," said Mr. Forrester hesitantly, "The cabin you reserved had a little problem with the fireplace, and it's going to be uninhabitable for a few days."

"What?" said Greg.

"Oh, God," John muttered.

"I'm assuming there are other cabins available?"

"Well, yes, but there's a problem." Mr. Forrester looked at the group. "The only cabins left are single-bedroom."

Mycroft shook his head. "Unbelievable."

"I'm sorry, sir, but-"

"One bed or two?"

"Just one."

"Show us."

"Sir, I--"

"Unless you want us to take our business elsewhere."

"Of course."

The five of them trudged the show to one of the cabins. After taking off their coats in the entryway, then entered the sitting room. It had a fire place and flat panel tv, and a nice couch and a chair. There was also a small kitchen with a table with two chairs.

Forrester then led them to the bedroom, which had an en suite bathroom. John was stunned; in the middle of the room was the biggest bed he'd ever seen.

"OOOoh," said Greg.

Mycroft turned to the manager. "We'll take it."

"We could bring in-"

"It's fine," said Mycroft.

"Yes, all right. Of course, you'll only be charged for a single."

"I would say so," Mycroft replied coldly. He turned to his housemates. "I'll go back to the office and get this settled. You drive the cars over here and start unpacking."

"Okay," said John.