Four Continents Watson (Johnlock)

Chapter 2

"Would you like any dessert or coffee to end your meal?" The older server efficiently gathered up their plates and cutlery, pausing to hear their reply.

John looked up, interested, but before he could say anything, Sherlock waved the server away. "Non, merci. Just the bill."

Seeing John's irked expression, Sherlock chuckled, reaching over to cover John's hand with his own. "I have another place in mind for our dessert." He pulled out his phone, glancing quickly at the time.

"Oh really?" It was quite intriguing, seeing Sherlock in date mode. When booking the trip, they had agreed to make plans for alternating days.

This was their first whole day here, in Quebec City. It had been dark when they arrived the night before, so they didn't get to see much then.

The five hour time zone difference had them waking up early, and they met in the main floor breakfast room. Sherlock already was at a table reading the paper, drinking coffee and eating a croissant spread with jam. John fetched some fruit and toast from the buffet, and they ate like they usually did at home. Deep in their newspapers, making occasional comments to each other. The only major difference being Sherlock reading a newspaper in French with apparent ease.

Their hotel was in the Old City, with the majestic Chateau Frontenac perched high above the cobbled streets. They wandered, enjoying the crisp fall air, and the freedom to drift around in their explorations. For lunch, they bought local food at the Old Port Market, and sat down by the waterfront, watching the boats as they ate.

Sherlock directed them away from the funicular with a scoff, and they took the steep 'Breakneck' stairs up the 200 feet to the upper part of the Old City. He explained the historic battles between England and France over the area as they wandered along the well preserved fortress. John was impressed with his research. Felt flattered by it, and hoped the outings he had planned were as enjoyable.

After paying the bill, Sherlock took John's hand as they left the restaurant. It still felt exciting when he did that. It still felt new. "I've noticed that you like chocolate." Sherlock snuck a glance at John, his lips in a small smirk.

John chuckled. He loved it, but now that he was in his mid-forties, he tried to limit his intake of it. "Oh no. What do you have in mind?" He looked around at the businesses nearby, but his French wasn't strong enough to make sense of their signage.

Tugging his hand, Sherlock pulled him into a business. The couple glasses of wine John had with supper had him in a relaxed mood, and he simply let Sherlock lead. He spoke rapid French to a few of the staff, and John was surprised to find himself soon sitting on a high stool, in a cooking class.

A slim man with a chef's white jacket with a black bib apron started the class, getting the other couples to settle down on their stools. He was friendly, and seemed professional as he held up various ingredients and pieces of equipment. There was one problem though.

John leaned in close to whisper in Sherlock's ear. "Um, I can't understand this. My French isn't good enough, Sherlock."

The tall berk gave him 'The Look', as John had dubbed it. The look that said he couldn't conceive that other people didn't possess his easy knowledge and comprehension of certain things. That they weren't fluent in a dozen languages.

It made John feel bad. Maybe he should have reminded Sherlock of his limited French when they were booking the holiday, but he assumed they would be sticking to doing touristy things where English would be common enough. He didn't want to screw up their night, after such a good day together, the first day of their trip.

Sherlock leaned in close to John. "Then I will translate for you." His voice was a low whisper, and it sent a shiver of awareness through John. He'd always had a weakness for Sherlock's voice.