Three Months (BBC Sherlock OC continuation story)

2

We landed in Paris not too long after I finished writing my entry for the day. When I got my laptop in my bag, Mycroft jerked awake,"Have we landed?"

"Yes,"I picked up my bag and my duffle,"Where are we going first?"

"The hotel that I booked, two separate rooms, presidential suite,"He yawned before standing and grabbing his own bags,"how's your french?"

"Cela pourrait nécessiter du travail, mais c'est bien,"Someone opened the door of the plane.

A/N: Things that are spoken in French will be italicized in english if you get me

"Miss Watson, and Mister Holmes, follow me,"The chauffeur announced into the cabin.

We did as told and followed the man into a limousine with Britain's flags waving on the sides,"Official business and you brought me?"

"I did say that it was important,"Mycroft replied as another person took our bags and put it in the boot of the limousine. Both of us got into the long, black car,"There was a reason that I didn't tell you all the details in London."

"So Sherlock wouldn't be watching our every move, I understand, but a little insight would've been nice,"I replied when the privacy window went down.

"Pleasure meeting both of you, my name is Sebastian Moran," The driver announced,"I'll be taking you to the hotel."

"Thank you Mr. Moran," Mycroft said before the window came back up,"Narnia." a code for trouble.

I kept the urge of tuck and rolling out of the car, out of my mind,"What novel?"

He glanced at me and played along,"Web-slinger."

Webs, internet, no, comic, slinger, Spiderman,"M.J.?" Our code for 'James Moriarty.'

"Yes of course, but the one where she dies,"He choked on the last words,"Or was it a staged act to turn him into the enemy?"

A trick. That's what Moriarty specialized in, tricks. Dirty, complicated, and non-essential tricks, all to mess with the mind of one person,"Um, Mycroft, may I make call for a moment?"

I picked up my phone and dialed his number,"Miss me that much?"

"I just got here and found the most interesting book that you would absolutely love,"I started.

"Oh, would you mind picking it up for me then?"

I lightly laughed,"Of course, Mycroft was the one who pointed it out. It's called Vatican Cameos." There was rustling in the background as Sherlock looked for a hiding spot,"Not there, here. Then there's The Final Problem of getting to the hotel on time."

"Where are you- John! Get your coat!" he yelled.

"Not yet, we're not at the bookstore. With all the things that we have planned it'll take a day to even find time off,"I looked to Mycroft who was listening intently.

"So we're not going to Paris yet?"

"You were expecting to?"

"Yes actually, I bought tickets about three weeks ago,"the sound of papers rustling were prominent,"I assure you, we'll be so hidden that you'll never see us."

"No, I'll mail it to you, talk to you tomorrow then?" I asked.

A loud sigh escaped his mouth,"Fine. Goodbye till then."

I hung up and relaxed my back, Mycroft raised an eyebrow,"The final problem? It's not like getting to the hotel by four is that big of a deal."

"No matter, it's just a thing we have,"He rested back with his "umbrella" under his stacked palms. Well it is a functioning umbrella, but there is more than that in the contraption.

The limo pulled up to the La Réserve and the driver waved from the front. The door was opened for us. Mycroft insisted that I get out first, it may seem gentleman-like, but he was probably using me as bait to see if anyone was going to shoot. I glanced back to the limo to look at one more thing and proceeded to the door with an assistant who carried my bag. Mycroft followed with another person doing the same.

I went at the exact pace needed to make sure Mycroft could catch up before I even got to the door. Once he was next to me we entered the large lobby I forgot that we were driven here by the accomplice of a murderer and monster.

The architecture was beautiful and-"Focus Scarlett."

"R-right,"was it that obvious that I was admiring how lovely this hotel is?

He told the person at the desk that we were here on diplomatic terms and that the presidential suite was reserved for us. The greeter walked around the large desk and spoke,"Follow me please."

Mycroft went ahead as we came up to an elevator that had gold designs and above a sign that read 'Presidential Suite' with more golden swirls and such. The two men who were holding our bags joined us along with the greeter. He spoke with Mycroft, and I studied the two men.

Both armed with a small pistol, wearing special tailored suits to be both up to standards and be able to hold weapons. The one that had my things was a big guy: 6" 4', bald, pale complexion, green eyes, diamond earring in the left ear, wearing... makeup!? It wasn't very prominent but it was there. Well then, he was carrying as I said a pistol, my bag, and now I realize he has a combat knife in his pocket. They do not work for the hotel, they work for the French Government. The man who had Mycroft's things, was a shorter man, closer to my height, about 5" 9', I'm 5" 7'. His hair was red, eyes blue, freckles went from his hairline to the upper portion of his neck. Diamond earring on the left ear, must be a symbol for the French government to recognise them, or track them with. Same equipment.

My thoughts were cut off by the elevator dinging and the doors opening to a large penthouse. We stepped inside.

"These gentlemen will be putting your bags by the rooms, there are accommodations all around the suite. If you need service, press this button and one of our staff will be around to tend to your needs. Are there any questions or concerns?" The greeter asked.

"Yes actually," Mycroft started,"There will be two men, my men, they have England Secret Service badges. They will be guarding the elevator from the lobby."

He nodded when the two men that were with us came back and they all entered the elevator and left.

"So, diplomatic reasons. First I was a nine-year-old graduating High school. Then I was working for the British Government as a case-writer. Now I'm with the most powerful person in the Government in Paris on official business," I sighed, sitting on the couch and looking around,"How is that Mycroft?"

"When you moved to London, the headmaster of the Academy told me about an exceptional young lady who was smarter than any professor he'd seen. I met with your parents,"He began to tell me,"They were average, much like Sherlock's and my parents. Though you showed intellect that almost matched ours. You may not remember any of this, but we've been friends for longer than you think."

"Are you sure you're not saying these things to trick my mind into formulating a memory that never happened?"

"I am telling the truth."

Hello! I really hope you liked this chapter! Though I'm pretty sure that you did, tell me in the comments. I never get those! Well, one of my wonderful followers did at lunch, but that's not the point. Anyways I'm glad that you're reading this ridiculous story! Signing off for now, Crystal--Wayne.

BAI!!!!