Staying Alive - Sherlock (BBC)

After an extremely small debate, they were both seated comfortably in the aeroplane heading towards Luxembourg City. It was very cramped, both of their long legs struggling to fit in the small space provided. Being the taller of the two, Lizzie had taken to lying her legs on Sherlock's lap, creating a handy perch for his laptop that he had not stopped looking at since they started flying.

This routine was not abnormal for the two of them, and therefore Lizzie pulled out a book lowering them carefully into a content silence. Well, it would be a content silence if it was not for the fact that there were other people present.

Sherlock didn't notice Lizzie watching him with a bemused smile as the women sat opposite chatted at unreasonable volumes. Sherlock was trying hard to ignore them, but one analitical glare was enough to prove his annoyance. Seconds later, a man brushed past Lizzie's sneaker clad feet jogging the laptop. His fingers stopped typing for a millisecond, an expression of complete and utter annoyance crossed his face making her almost burst out laughing. To top off the aeroplane experience, the man sat directly in front of Sherlock pushed his seat back.

Lizzie watched with humored eyes as Sherlock's laptop was pushed down slightly by the seat. Sherlock stared directly in front of him, in complete and utter annoyance, watching the top of the man's head appear, his blonde hair touching Sherlock's forehead.

Taking a deep breath, Sherlock withdrew his hands from the keyboard and pushed down the laptop's lid with his index finger. Lizzie had expected him to flip out at this like he used to do, but, with great effort required, Sherlock had calmly avoid the situation. He sat back slowly and diverted his gaze towards Lizzie.

"Isn't that a bit romantic for you?" He asked looking at the book she was holding, The Great Gatsby.

"It is considered a classic, and is older than your grandfather. With age comes wisdon, as you always said. I was curious."

"I never said that."

"Well I did, and you agreed."

"I don't remember agreeing to that."

"Yes, well you deleted it didn't you?"

Sherlock went quiet for a moment, going into his mind palace. Lizzie watched as his eyes flickered back and forth at a ridiculous speed. Eventually he stopped and focused back on her. "Yes." He concluded.

Lizzie raised an eyebrow at him. "How are you doing with the case then?"

"You know what I know. What do you think? It's good to have a second opinion."

"No way am I telling you. I want to see the great Sherlock Holmes in action, you are on your own."

"Then why did you agree to come here with me?"

"To be fair you didn't ask, but then again you never do. Either way, I fancied the change of scenery, London does get a little dull at times. Maybe we could find some interesting murders when we get to Luxembourg."

He nodded, their conversation had spiralled off to an uneventful halt, spluttered, and died. Sherlock instinctively reached for his laptop but realised that he couldn't exactly use it anymore. He sighed and leant back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. Closing his eyes, he tried to think.

With a short laugh, Lizzie threw her book at him. It was so obvious that he was bored. He picked it up and looked at her with unimpressed eyes. "Read it." She commanded. He raised an eyebrow at her. "It isn't that bad."

Sherlock opened it tentetively, eyes raking over the page. After he turned the page twice, Lizzie leant back and closed her eyes, drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

They were splayed on Sherlock's bed, both engrossed in the book that they were reading. Lizzie was lying horizontally across Sherlock's lap, her head hanging off the edge of the bed. Sherlock was half lying, half sat on the bed, his chin pressing into his chest as he read. Both of them had accumalated a small pile of literature beside them.

Putting down yet another book, Lizzie took the chance to look up out of the window. She stared at it, blinking a few times. "It's dark outside." She observed.

A few moments passed and nobody moved. Sherlock broke the silence by putting his book down on her knees.

They could both hear the seconds pass as they both took this in.

"Well you night as well stay the night." He concluded.

She raised an eyebrow and sat up on her elbows so she could see him. "In here?"

"Yes why not?"

"Will that be okay with your parents?"

"I don't mind and I'm pretty sure that they don't care."

She thought about it for a second before picking her book up again and returning to the uncomfortable-looking position she was in originally. "Okay then."

Lizzie was jolted awake when Sherlock flicked her legs, The Great Gatsby had been placed on her knees, he had finished it in less than an hour. She looked up to see a flight attendant glaring at her, her eyes filled with strict fury. "I'm sorry ma'am, but I'm going to have to ask you to stop obstructing the passageway and put your seat belt on." She repeated.

Lizzie smiled and folded her legs up, squeezing them into the small space provided. By the time she had looked up, the woman had already gone. "She was in a bad mood." Lizzie commented, doing up her seat belt.

"Yes, well, her husband had just walked out on her." Sherlock replied casually.

~~~~~

They arrived at the hotel and strolled into the lobby, walking up to the front desk. Sherlock placed his suitcase on the floor and looked up to talk to the man stood behind the counter. "Good evening, we have a room reserved, under the name of Holmes'" The man smiled apologetically at him.

"Je suis désolé, je ne parle pas beacoup d'anglais."

He had almost forgotten that they were in a different country, Sherlock repeated what he had said in French. "Bonsoir, nous avons une chambre réservée, sous le nom de Holmes."

Smiling once more, he checked them in and wrote down a few details. Before they knew it, they had been given a key and were walking up the wooden stairs. After a small fight with the door, and Sherlock loudly declaring that they had been given the wrong key, they managed to get into the room.

It was a rather small and cheap room, with an equally small and cheap en-suite bathroom. One crumbling, wooden wardrobe stood in the far corner flanked by a simple painted wooden table that held up a small television. A double bed with a dangerous looking metal frame lay opposite, each side with a bedside table and battered lamp.

"I get the left side." Lizzie stated, throwing her bag on the floor, claiming the side that had the less battered lamp. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I'll go and find the wifi password."