In The Game of Love

seventeen

 John, Simza, and Y/N were currently sitting in a cafe near the Eiffel Tower, waiting for Sherlock. He had told them he needed to do something, muttering something about Moriarty, and told them where to meet. The trio was getting more nervous with each passing second.

"He's twenty minutes late," Y/N muttered, fingers nervously tapping against the table they were sitting at.

"He must come soon," Simza said, watching the police officers around. "I don't have any papers."

"And Y/N and I are both foreigners," John added.

"This climate is exactly what my father wants," Y/N said.

Sherlock suddenly appeared at the table with a tray of food. He cleared his throat to gain the trio's attention. "The omelet fines herbes was divine..." he said, sitting down beside Y/N. He had a napkin bucket into his coat. "...but they spared every expense on the tea. Now shall we compare moods, or consider what we know? Last night's bombing was clearly meant to look like Germany's retaliation for Strasbourg. However, the bomb was also meant to conceal the murder of just one man. The man killed by the gunshot was none other than Alfred Meinhard."

John exhaled sharply. Simza looked to him for an answer as to who the man was. "He makes guns," John explained. "Big guns."

"Moriarty was always trying to get into Meinhard's business," Y/N said.

"Only days ago, a large share of his company was bought by an unknown investor," Sherlock added.

"And I guess he finally did it."

"The clues point in one direction, but to avoid repeating last night's debacle, I was obliged to collect more sufficient data, hence my tardiness."

Sherlock then went on to explain how he disguised himself as a patron at the hotel Moriarty was staying at and a bell hop. How he tried to get something off of Moriarty but was unable to. Luckily, Moriarty found time to indulge his little habit.

"His habit of feeding that urban species, the feral pigeon," Sherlock said. John reached over and ripped off what was left of Sherlock's disguise on his face. "So, there are seven mainline railways stations in Paris. But taking 10 minutes to get to the Jardin des Tuileries, where the largest concentration of the winged vermin may be found, reduces there to one, the Gare du Nord. Where he will be just in time to catch the 11:04 train to Berlin. It makes several stops along the way. One of which is—"

"Heilbronn," John and Y/N interrupted together.

"Exactly where we must go."

"Where Meinhard's factory is," John explained.

"It's Moriarty's factor now," Y/N said.

"Unfortunately, due to the bombing, the crossing between France and Germany is to be closed," Sherlock informed. "I'm afraid our pursuit is over unless we can happen upon a comrade, who knows their way around borders." John, Sherlock, and Y/N eyed Simza.

~~~

Simza got Joh, Y/N, and Sherlock looking more like gypsies before letting them into some woods.

"Too English," Simza told John as she took his hat and replaced it with the one on her head.

"However, you do make a fantastic gypsy," Sherlock complimented John. He leaned over to Y/N's ear. "Not as fantastic as you though, my dear." Y/N rolled her eyes and walked up to the line of horses awaiting them.

"Certainly smell like a fantastic gypsy," John complained.

"Now, now, no need to be demeaning."

"It is a nice scarf," Simza's friend, Tamas, from the other night said, coming up to them. He held out the scarf he had taken from John.