Work Text:
"I can handle this case on my own, Mycroft. I don't need you to babysit me just because John is at a medical conference this week."
"No, I didn't think you did. And I must also confess that John is at a medical conference this week because I wanted to accompany you on this trip."
"You could have just asked to come."
Mycroft waved his hand dismissively.
"Right, well, I don't suppose you inserted yourself on this trip to enjoy the weather. Although, I guess your favorite accessory makes you right at home here."
"Seattleites don't use umbrellas. They are beneath them. Or, at least, they aren't above them." Mycroft shrugged. "They claim it is because it mists more than rains. They claim accepting the rain is part of living here. De gustibus non est disputandum."
"Frequent lapses into latin are one of the many, many, many reasons nobody likes you."
"C'est la vie."
"See also French. Right, good luck to you then. I am going to meet with the detective on my case."
"Fine. The Butler did it."
"This is America. This is 2018. There is no butler."
"James Butler, the lead architect."
Sherlock pulled up the case files on his phone. "Right. Oh… yes. Right. I see." He sighed. "You couldn't have said that before the 10 hour flight?"
"I could have. I didn't. "
"Because you wanted an excuse to go on holiday in Seattle."
"That seems petty, doesn't it."
"It does. And yet…"
"And yet… No time to waste. We have reservations on the Gourmet Seattle Walking Tour. I hear some of the food is to die for. Which really was a pity for Mr. Butler's contractor, but rather fortunate for us. Then we will go on a tour of the Seattle underground. Dinner. Drinks. And if you're a very good boy I'll let you go on the ghost tour."
"This is a 2.5 hour tour." Sherlock complained as they sat down at their fourth establishment."
"I am aware. I was aware when I purchased the tickets."
"A 2.5 hour walking tour. You hate walking."
"With numerous breaks for food and drink. The best way to enjoy a walk. I have to stay fit. I need to look nice in my tuxedo for the pictures."
"What tuxedo? What pictures? Wait… is this..."
"I believe the colloquial term is my 'stag do'." Mycroft shuddered.
"I see. And the wedding is on… "
"Saturday."
"In?"
"New York."
"New York, New York?"
"Have we developed an echo?" Mycroft smirked.
"That's 3000 miles away."
"Again, I am aware. Why do you seem to think I don't have concept of time and distance when holiday planning?"
"You've brought me here on purpose? The whole trip to Seattle. The murder inquiry? You've done that on purpose. You didn't kill that man just to avoid asking me to come to your wedding?"
"No, don't be absurd. I wouldn't do something like that. I simply arranged to have your brought in on a case in Seattle."
"You've contrived to bring me to Seattle for your bachelor party where apparently we're going to walk around the city and eat food… and… Does Lestrade know about this? Have you bothered to invite him to the wedding? "
"He will, in time. Soon, actually."
"He is the groom, I presume."
"You presume correctly."
"Isn't it customary to propose to the groom before planning the wedding?"
Mycroft shrugged. "I sent John to his bachelor party. Only fair."
"John's at a medical conference."
"John thinks he is at a medical conference." Mycroft grinned.
Sherlock sighed. "They have invitations. You buy them in the shops… I assume. I've never actually sent one… but mummy would know… you send them to people. They go, "Oh, Mycroft 's getting married, LOVELY. I think I'll come. They RSVP. It is how these are done. You do not shanghai people to Seattle!"
"But I wanted to go to Seattle."
"So we can walk around and eat food and maybe hear some people tell some ghost stories?"
"If you are very, very good. So far it looks like we'll be taking the much less highly regarded Segway tour of Seattle."
"More your speed, though. Why Seattle?"
"The underground. Seattle was built too low on old marsh land and was prone to flooding. So when it burned in 1889 they rebuilt it significantly higher than it was previously. That left an underground tunnel system I've always wanted to see."
"Always?"
"Well, since I learned about it, in any case."
"When you researched possible bachelor party locations?"
"No, when I was a boy…. " Mycroft blushed. "In an old episode of Scooby Doo. A Frightened Hound Meets Demons Underground!"
"You are pulling my leg."
"I am not. I loved that show. You loved that show. Greg looks a little like Fred, I think."
"Love truly is blind."
"And your Mrs. Hudson and her cohort Mrs. Turner are a bit like Shaggy and Scooby. I do hope they manage to clear customs with their Scooby snacks."
"Scooby snacks?"
"Their soothers."
Sherlock tilted his head in mild assent. "And who am I in this casting?"
"You and John both are a bit of a composite. You have Velma's mind and Daphne's everything else. John the opposite. You're a good match."
"And you? You're the one who makes all those wonderful masks?"
"Oh, that would be good. But no. I'm the Mystery Machine, quietly doing what I need to do in the background so all of you get to where you need to be…. Just like in the little road trip to New York we're about to undertake. "
"Road trip? The two of us? That will be a disaster."
"All of us. It will be brilliant."
"The Scooby gang drove the bus where they wanted to go, Mycroft."
"Did they, Sherlock? Did they really? I don't think so." Mycroft stood and followed the tour guide on a quest for Seattle's best cupcake.