An Affair to Remember-Sherlock Fanfic

The Key-The Woman

Heedless to the other occupants in the helicopter, Sherlock leaned forward and ruffled a curl of damp hair behind John's ear. Mycroft rolled his eyes as John looked back at Sherlock with sleepy bedroom eyes.

Sherlock was about to push John further when Mycroft grabbed his arm. "Sherlock, stop now. I think your display of passion in the desert was enough don't you?"

Sherlock smirked. "A night of passion? How would you know about such things?"

Laura chuckled at Sherlock's acidic remark as she winked at him. Then she leaned over and whispered in his ear so that Mycroft could hear as well. "Sherlock, wouldn't it be fun to experiment? Just you, me and John." Then she looked over at Mycroft as she said, "Oh, and of course you too, brother mine."

Mycroft looked at Laura in disgust and then scrunched his body away from her, pretending to be fascinated with the view outside his small round window. John smiled as he looked out the window at the moon. For a moment he imagined he could fly, that he wasn't in pain and that he and Sherlock were alone together. His chest grew heavy. "I'm tired," John thought as he attempted to locate the glowing sands that rushed by beneath them. He fumbled in the folds of his robe. "Where are my pills?" John muttered as beads of sweat began to stand out on his forehead.

Sherlock watched John's struggle as he sat rigid in his chair. Laura smiled as she patted Sherlock's leg. "What's the matter, Darling? Aren't you enjoying your magic carpet ride?"

Sherlock turned on her like an angry mother bear. "Shut up, Laura," he whispered between clenched teeth.

Laura made a clucking noise as she wagged a finger at Sherlock. "Careful, sweetie. I'm the only one that can make his pain go away. I 'm the only one that can make your pain go away...Sherlock."

A few hours later and they were all settled down in a private jet on its way to London. John lay sleeping in an oversized chair and Sherlock watched in fondness as a string of drool ran down his cheek. "Adorable," he thought as he smiled.

"Thank god, for private jets," Laura said as she leaned back and lit up a cigarette.

Sherlock looked over at Mycroft, finding amusement at the way his brother struggled between taking a muffin or a handful of fruit. When he saw Sherlock watching him Mycroft scowled and popped a few grapes in his mouth. Looking bored Sherlock stood up walked over to the food platter and moved it around until he spied the muffin that Mycroft had been eyeing. Then with a great amount of flourish he peeled the paper away while Mycroft salivated over the crumbs that fell from his brother's lips.

Laura clapped her hands together, which made John's body twitch as he sat up. "What's happening?" He asked in a sleepy voice.

"God, his sleepy voice is so sexy," Sherlock thought as he licked his lips.

Before Sherlock lost all concertation, Laura demanded his attention. "Mycroft, it's time you explain to your little brother and his husband what the real game is."

Sherlock's cheeks flushed an attractive hue of pink at the word 'husband'. The flush turned a deeper red and traveled to his neck as John's unwavering gaze explored his husband's entire body from head to toe.

With reluctance Sherlock dragged his attention from John and focused on Laura and Mycroft. "Well, what is the exact nature of this case?"

Mycroft put his fingers together and rested them just underneath his nose. "The statute of Bastet is thousands of years old but is worth very little, due to the fact that it is an undocumented ornament that would have been used as a decoy piece."

John looked puzzled. "What do you mean by undocumented?"

Mycroft smiled in a placating way. "Undocumented as it applies in this instance is when a work of antiquity has been taken from a tomb without proper records. For example, many tombs were plundered by treasure hunters heedless of where the items came from, they were ripped from their sepulchers only to reside in an English Manor House, undocumented."

John nodded as he said, "Okay, I see."

Mycroft sniffed and then continued on. "The statue was acquired around 1910 and remained in the same family until around 1938. At this time, it was sold to a family from Germany, the item was confiscated by the Nazi's and did not surface until a few months ago. As I've said before it is not the statue that contains value. It's what's inside."

John leaned back his head and groaned. "Oh, for god's sake what's in it?"

Mycroft smiled back at John, anxious to tease. "A key."

John grit his teeth. "What kind of a key?"

When Mycroft didn't answer, Sherlock got up and sat next to John. He then took John's hand in his own as he growled. "Answer him, Mycroft."

"The key is to a Swiss bank account from a prominent Jewish family. There were no survivors in the immediate family. However, there was a distant one. A woman," Mycroft said and then paused before he continued, "The Woman."

Sherlock paled as he scooted forward in his chair. He let go of John's hand as he whispered. "What's her name."

Mycroft smiled like the cat who got the canary. He had won this round. "Irene... Irene Alder."

John looked at Sherlock with questioning eyes. Sherlock didn't turn to him. He just sat staring at the plush, cream carpet beneath his feet. John shivered, wondering why he suddenly felt cold.