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Sherlock's Unconventional Weekend.

Chapter One – Arrival

Sherlock's piercing blue gaze swept across the hotel lobby as he stepped out of the revolving door, his brain cataloguing every detail. Walking forward he joined the queue to check in, followed eventually by his blogger John Watson who was muttering quietly to himself.

'That's alright Sherlock, I'll pay for the taxi and sort out the luggage. Wouldn't want you to strain yourself!'

Ignoring the older man, Sherlock moved up to the desk and removed his black leather gloves.

Raising her head with her professional smile fixed firmly in place the receptionist asked, 'Name?'

'Holmes. I booked two rooms for one night.' stated Sherlock as his brain sifted through all of the minuscule details of the young woman's life.

Typing the name into the computer in front of her, the receptionist's eyes widened slightly as she read the information on the screen. Glancing up at the consulting detective, the young woman gulped in fear as she saw the expression on Sherlock's face. 'Erm ... I am most dreadfully sorry sir, I'm afraid there appears to have been a mix up with your reservation. We only appear to have one room booked under the name of Holmes.'

John stepped up to Sherlock's side and noticing his flatmate glaring menacingly at the terrified receptionist, he looked between the two of them as he asked with a confused smile on his face 'Is there a problem here? ... Sherlock?'

Sherlock drew himself up to his full height as he looked down with disdain at the young woman behind the desk, and replied to his friend, 'There's no problem John, well, nothing a little more concentration when accepting bookings wouldn't cure. Instead, it appears to be perfectly acceptable to be checking twitter whilst on the phone to potential customers, rather than ensuring the correct details have been taken!'

John sighed and had just opened his mouth to speak, when the receptionist, angry at being thought of as incompetent, interrupted, 'Excuse me, sir ...'

'You are excused, now I wish to see the manager, if you would be so kind. Thank you!' stated Sherlock, before the young woman could continue.

Opening and closing her mouth very much in the manner of a goldfish, the young receptionist stood frozen to the spot. Taking pity on the young woman, John leant forward and said quietly 'Maybe it would be better for us to discuss this with someone a little more senior.'

Blinking several times, she turned towards John, gave a polite smile and pressing a key on her computer to call the duty manager to the front desk, she replied 'Yes, of course sir, if you'll wait a moment, the manager will be with you shortly.'

Sensing that Sherlock was readying himself to deliver one of his more cutting remarks, John placed his hand on his flatmate's arm and murmured quietly, 'Don't. Just don't. I'll deal with this. Okay?'

Sherlock lowered his head slightly in a nod of agreement and took a small step back, acknowledging John's superior people skills.

When the manager arrived some minutes later, it was explained to the two men that unfortunately, due to the large number of guests there were no other rooms available. A call around to other hotels in the area elicited the same response. Everywhere was fully booked.

John released a weary sigh as he lowered his head in resignation of the fact that he would be sharing a room with his flatmate. Straightening up, he accepted the key-card and thanked the manager for attempting to help, then reaching down, he picked up the luggage and began walking towards the lifts, followed rapidly by the consulting detective.

'John?' asked Sherlock as they stood waiting for the lift to arrive.

'It's ten o'clock at night, the train journey up from London was a nightmare, I am tired and I am cold. I just want to get to my room and go to sleep. So whatever you are thinking of saying, whatever gem is whizzing around that enormous brain of yours? Just, please, for once, keep it to yourself. Okay?' replied John as he stepped into the lift which had just that second arrived. 'What floor are we on?'

'Third. Our room number is 307.' answered Sherlock as he pressed the number 3 on the wall, before turning to face the doors. Both John and Sherlock falling silent as they waited for them to close.

A sudden shout from just along the corridor brought both men out of their thoughts. Sherlock reached over to press the button that prevented the doors from closing as John leant out to see what the commotion was all about. The sound of muffled footsteps could be heard hurrying along the carpeted corridor.

'Hold the lift, please!' the teenage girl at the front of the group of teenagers called out again, before all three of them tumbled in to the lift. 'Thank you so much.' she gushed, turning to look at the two other occupants as she pushed the button for the fourth floor. As she raised her eyes to Sherlock's face, her mouth dropped open in shock.

'Jen? What ...?' the other two teenage girls began to ask, before they too gazed at Sherlock in surprise.

Sherlock frowned as he glanced across at John, who was looking thoroughly confused by the bizarre turn of events.

Luckily for both men, the lift arrived at the third floor, and the two of them rapidly exited the lift. As they walked down the corridor, they heard a high pitched squeal followed by giggling before the lift doors finally closed, cutting off the sound.

'What on earth was that all about, Sherlock?' asked John as they searched for their room.

'Teenage girls John. I have no idea, they are a complete and utter mystery to the rest of the human race.' replied Sherlock, opening the door to their room and walking in, before continuing 'I'm sure it will all be made perfectly clear tomorrow.'

John followed his friend into the room and dumped their bags on the floor next to the king size bed. Leaning down, he opened his holdall and removed his toiletry bag and sleep ware. 'Right, well, I'm going to commandeer the bathroom and get ready for bed. Shouldn't be too long, then you can do ... whatever it is you do ... to get ready for the night. If that's alright with you?' said John, a light blush crossed his cheeks as he realised that he would actually have to share a bed with his young flatmate. John was no prude, he'd been in the army for God's sake, but it had been quite a long time since he had been in such close proximity to another man, and after the excruciatingly embarrassing discussion at Angelo's the day after they first met, he didn't want Sherlock to think he was in any way propositioning him again.

When there was no reply, John looked across the room to where Sherlock was now laid out on the sofa with his eyes closed and his hands raised to his lips in the stereotypical prayer position. Rolling his eyes and shaking his head in exasperation, John smiled softly as he walked in to the bathroom to change for bed, resolving to cover the young man in one of the spare blankets that were usually kept in the top of the wardrobes in hotel rooms.