Undiscovered

Chapter 3

The plane was fairly large and crowded with people sitting in plush blue seats. A child cried in the background as a stressed mother fumbled around in an attempt to soothe the her. The intercom binged and the pilot introduced himself and gave  a brief report of the weather in London, then in France. Both men had already buckled themselves in when a young air hostess came towards them. She wore a little boat - shaped hat on her head and crisp blue uniform. She smiled and offered them warm face towels. They both accepted them politely. Leatrade had gotten the first class tickets, something neither was used to. John didn't travel much and aside from the army, he had never gone anywhere. After she left, Sherlock looked at John.
"I don't need a face towel. My face doesn't need cleaning or heating." He stared at the white roll in his hand.
"Just wipe your face, Sherlock. It's polite." John smiled. He loved this side of Sherlock. The side that questioned everything that normal people found quite usual. His brilliant friend could be rather oblivious to some.
"What's polite about wiping your face?" He sighed and wiped his face anyways.
John was lucky enough to get the window seat. He loved looking beyond everything, seeing that there was a whole new world above what they lived in down on the ground. Besides, he had the feeling that Sherlock wouldn't be too keen on it.
The pilot announced that they'd be taking off in two minutes and John could swear he saw fear in Sherlock's eyes. He laughed silently to himself.
"What?" Sherlock looked at John. He ignored his friend and smiled.  The plane slowly began to move forward, making it's way down the runway. It sped up and Sherlock gripped the armrest. The view outside the window was not becoming a blur.
"You've never flown before, have you?" John realised, utterly shocked.
A pale Sherlock shook his head, his eyes remained closed.
John chuckled softly.
"It's okay. Trust me, this is much nicer than the planes I went on in Afghanistan. These chairs are actually soft. There's no extreme buckles. Oh, and you don't have to worry about being shot down out of the sky." That earned a deep laugh from Sherlock. The plane sped up significantly and the front wheel lurched off the ground. Sherlock gave up on the armrest and grabbed John's hand instead. He felt a blush creep up on his face as he intertwined his fingers with Sherlock's. In a matter of seconds, they were airborne. He sighed, squeezed John's hand and pulled it away. He decided that he liked John's hand, so he slid it back into his. Sherlock's stomach twisted up into a knot, as did John's, when they realised they were holding hands.
Both chatted lightly to each other throughout the flight. In a little over an hour, they landed in France.

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A little while later, the guys were at the baggage carousel. People bustled around, most unsure of where to go. Through the glass doors ahead, John could see reuniting couples hugging one another, children running towards their grandparents. It  warmed his heart, seeing other people with family, even though he never really had a chance to experience that. Sherlock stood calmly, arms folded. John kept an eye out for their luggage, though It wasn't much. They were only staying for a few days.

Sherlock cleared his throat.
"John." He looked worried
"John. Why is there a girl staring at me?"
John looked around and followed Sherlock's eye direction. There was a little girl about 7 years old hiding behind her mother's leg. Occasionally, she'd hide then peek at Sherlock once more.
"Maybe because she finds you attractive," John joked.
"That's absurd."
"Okay. Maybe she's scared of you." Either way, John found it hilarious.
"Why would she be scared of me?"
"Sherlock, you look like a giant to her, almost like a real life Jack Skellington. Or Dracula. With you coat and all"  Sherlock looked beyond confused. He shook his head, but glanced once more at the little girl who shrieked and hid in her mother's skirt.

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At around 11 am they checked into a hotel. The hotel was 4-star and had a beautiful view of rhe city they were in. They were in Bordeaux but in two days time, they were going to head out to France. Mycroft assissted Sherlock in aquiring a rental car for the week. After booking in, they headed to their room. It was a single room, but had two beds. They stopped in front of door 186. John unlocked the door and stepped inside. It was beautiful. The carpets were cream and filled with subtle patterns. Wide windows covered one wall completely. A large fireplace sat on the left side of the room and in front, a loveseat and a coffee table. Theire was a little arched doorway leading to a minimalist kitchen. Another door lead to a bathroom with a water-jet bath, a massive shower, a large basin in the centre of a marble counter and a fresh, white toilet.
They bothed walked over to the room. Through the door, there was a cute room with big windows. It had a wardrobe and a dresser, a full length mirror and two double beds. The beds were spaced about 30cm apart. Sherlock and John each claimed a bed. Neither bothered to unpack.
"Nice. Very nice," John looked at Sherlock. He nodded his head in approval and slight awe at the beauty of the suite.
Sherlock hmphed in agreement.
Sherlock watched the doctor walk over to the large window in the sitting room. He followed. John removed his jumper. He stood by the window and stared out. It was beautiful. Sherlock stood next to John, admiring the astonished look on his face. He smiled at him and very lightly, placed his hand on John's shoulder. Without warning, John took Sherlock's hand off his shoulder and intertwined their fingers.
Neither of them said a word.