Chapter Text
The plane was packed to the brim with eager families and old couples ready for their vacation time to finally start. Not to mention the fairly obvious rich tourist who had enough money to travel to several countries over the course of their summer vacation. “Mesdames et Messieurs, le capitaine a tourné sur le signe Attachez vos ceintures. Si vous n'avez pas déjà fait, s'il vous plaît ranger vos bagages à main sous le siège devant vous ou dans un porte-bagages.” The french attendant continued to drone on with her pre-boarding speech as the microphone crackled against her high-pitched voice. She paused for a brief moment, letting those get their hearing back before switching to english for those who couldn't understand French.
Gregory fiddled in his window seat, he was fortunate enough to be in the first ten isles. Even more so that there were no babies on his flight, his briefcase was on rested on the small tray table, pulling out documents to read in the one hour long flight. “ Monsieur,” A short woman dressed in a flight attendant uniform stopped in front of his row, her hair in a short black bob. He and her exchanged a short and knowing look, he suppressed his eye roll as he pulled his briefcase off the small plastic tray table, clipping it into the seat in front of him. “Merci,” She smiled drly before strutting off down the aisle to harass some loud Americans. But the English professor had gotten what he wanted, zoning out until the plane started to take off, he peered up at the safety video. They had gotten out of hand in these past years, all of them singing and dancing about what to do if the plane crashed. Maybe it was some weird sort of humor Greg didn't understand. Chocolate brown eyes moved back down to his documents, reading over Siger Holmes papers, pen in hand as he marked it up, taking as many notes as he could.
This was the reason of his plane flight. During a brief time spent in London a year ago he met an overly friendly man by the name of Siger Holmes. What started out as an out of the blue conversation was quickly turned into a fast friendship. Greg found out Siger worked in many ivy league institutions across the world, with a bit more research he found out the man was a famous professor. Siger being the polite and kind man offered for Gregory to stay with him and his family in his home, helping him (not that Siger required help) with his summer course. Blown away the rookie English professor accepted happily.
Now here he was, flying out a year later to do exactly that. Spending his summer to grow as a teacher and learn the craft of teaching from one of the best in the business. He was giddy with excitement. Thirty pages marked up with notes as the plane slowly descended into the United Kingdom, the landing a bit bumpy but Greg hardly noticed over his own fast heart beat.
“Mesdames et Messieurs, que nous commençons notre descente, s'il vous plaît assurez-vous que les dossiers de sièges et de tables-plateaux sont dans leur position verticale. Assurez-vous que votre ceinture de sécurité est solidement attachée et tous les bagages à main sont rangés sous le siège devant vous ou dans les compartiments supérieurs. S'il vous plaît éteindre tous les appareils électroniques que nous soyons en toute sécurité stationné à la porte. Je vous remercie.” As the woman finished people shifted, voices rising as most were more than ready to get off the plane. As the doors opened minutes later people filed out in a forced organized chaos. Greg shuffled behind checking his phone for any emails or messages from the man. Not seeing any wondering if he should call, he had never received any sort of address from the man. Gregory knew the Heathrow Airport well enough to continue staring at his phone, lucky for him he had jammed all his clothes for the month in one carry on suitcase. The hell of baggage claim would never come, going quickly through customs finding it odd how quickly he got through he thumbed in Holmes’ number only to be stopped by a woman walking up to him.
“Merci Monsieur Lestrade, I’m here to take you to the Holmes estate. Mr.Holmes sends his deepest regrets that he couldn't pick you up himself, but Mrs.Holmes insisted after he fell off a ladder just earlier today.” Her British accent more posh than his entire existence, the cogs turned slowly in the Frenchman's head. Estate? A ladder?
“Oui, eh...Yes, i’m sorry who are you?” His brain switched into English slowly, Siger hadn't told him he was rich. Maybe that was a given, but it didn't seem so, he had meet the man at a suit and tie event. Siger wore a tan jumper.
“Anthea Walsh.” She was about 5’6, brown hair cut off near her shoulders, sharp emerald eyes that told him she was much more than a chauffeur. Wearing a suit, blackberry in her left hand, sleek jet black platform heels and bright red nails. Greg couldn't help but stared for a moment.
“Nice to meet you,” He nodded slowly, she nodded back curtly, turning around she headed out the doors of the airport, like a puppy the French professor followed behind.
‘ Je vais être kidnappé’ He thought begrudgingly, as he got into a beautiful Jaguar moments later. Anthea pulled out into the airport traffic weaving through the crazy taxi and uber drivers with ease, pulling onto the freeway he noticed they were not heading towards central London.
Definitely getting kidnapped.
“The Holmes estate is in the countryside, so please feel free to relax it will be a long journey.” She explained as if she could read his mind. When all she had done was stare at him with the rear view mirror for a few seconds watching his panic expression rise. Greg nodded wordlessly, tense for the next thirty minutes as London seemed to faded and grassy hills started to appear instead. The Frenchman had never seen the countryside, staring out the window watching the scenery flash by as Anthea drove a solid 80 mph if not more the entire way out to the estate. Just as Greg started to get a crick in his neck and back she pulled into a driveway, her speed slowing down significantly as she drove up what Greg assumed to be the estates driveway.
His jaw dropped as the estate appeared in front of them, it was grand and magnificent. Gregory only thought people used these in movie sets, not to actually live in them. She pulled up into the circular driveway, of course a beautiful fountain sat in the middle of the cirual roundabout. Flourished with flowers all the way around. Greg wheezed, Anthea chuckled. “We are here, enjoy your stay Mr. Lestrade.” She nodded for him to get and he got out, grabbing his luggage from the trunk. She drove around and out back the way they came.
“Zut…” He cursed underneath his breath, doing a 360 circle looking around realizing this man was filthy rich.
“Gregory!”
Speak of the devil.
Siger Holmes shuffled out of the front door in a green jumper and red bow-tie to match. His bright smile made up for the long trip. “Bonjour Siger, mon aime!” They met in the middle for a hug. “Come in come in,” He waddled around like some sort of penguin, holding the small of his back. Ah, the ladder.
Greg’s jaw dropped as he walked inside, and Siger laughed. “This is just one of the estates, we keep it around because much of our family was raised here.” Greg could have whimpered, but his growling stomach cut him off. “Come come, we have much to discuss over dinner, Martha! Martha!” Siger shuffled off into one of the doors disappearing through the other side. Greg looked around, a beautiful staircase curved up just a few feet in front of him. Looking up it he could actually see someone standing at the top. As soon as the figure at the top of the stairs was spotted the flash anger in steel gray eyes and ginger hair disappeared into the depths of the manor.
Looking around for a moment longer still shocked that this is where he would be staying, he followed through the door Siger had just walked through. Martha was setting the table, he didnt recognize the woman. But that was quickly changed. “Ah! Gregory there you are, this is out cook Martha Hudson.” They have a personal cook!
Sticking his hand out quickly not wanting to be rude, “Ah, bonjour!” Greg smiled as Martha finished setting down the golden brown pork roast, his eyes widened comically and the lovely woman smiled widely shaking his hand.
“Finally someone who appreciates a good meal! Enjoy sweetie, we can have introductions tomorrow,” She pulled him forward to sit and the next hour was a blur of suppressed moans and praise for that woman and her cooking skills. Siger explained near the start of the meal that it would most likely just be the two of them for dinner tonight. Violet, Sigers wife, was having a ladies night with some of her friends and his two sons rarely partook in dinners. Gregory certainly didn't mind as he tried to mind his table manners as he shoved that mouth melting pork roast into his mouth, it was a perfect meal after a long day of travel. Siger carried most of the conversation talking about current events, funny stories and how he fell off the ladder. As Greg slowed down, taking measured sips of water Siger suggested for him to sleep.
The wave of exhaustion hit him hard in that moment. More than ready to sleep he nodded thanking him for the meal and allowing him to stay in this beautiful home. But the kind man waved him off, “The pleasure is mine, now come come before you fall asleep on the stairs.” He said standing up, batting Greg away from taking his plate to the sink, the Frenchman didn't argue, he was much too tired.
Siger guided him up the steps, “Now, this place is a bit of a maze, many rooms aren't actually bedrooms. So we have put you next to my oldest sons room so you don't get lost.” Greg digested this for a moment, ready to comment, wondering if that person he had seen earlier was the elder son, but Siger continued on. “Don't worry Mycie already knows to help you around if needed. The room has two beds but it had three at one point but after Sherlock set one on fire...well that’s a story is for another time.” Stopping at the end of the hall he pushed open the door. The room was dark, Greg could tell it was a master suite from size alone. But he couldn't make much out in the darkness. It looked inhabited but no one was inside.
“In you go, have a good night.” Siger said happily, walking off to his own room.
Greg was left on his own. Shuffling inside closing the door navigating through the mostly open space. There wasn't a second bed as Siger said their would be, but he was too tired to care. Setting down his luggage he toed off his shoes, unceremoniously yanking off his shirt and pants. Leaving them in waddled up bundle as he crashed into bed, he groaned as the bed welcomed him. Within a few minutes Gregory was passed out, lightly snoring as his body splayed over the queen size bed.
The door opened in the middle of the night, someone walked in stopping realizing very quickly someone was in their bed. “You’ve got to be joking….” Of course his father would guide the guest to the wrong room. Mycroft sighed tapping his foot, weight his options. He could easily kick the man out of his room, but he would most definitely receive repercussions from his parents for doing so. Rolling steel gray eyes he shut the door, easily navigating in the dark to the bathroom. While being a suite the bathroom connected to another bedroom. Greg's actual room. Shutting the door already planning to have a serious talk with his father about his left and rights, the manor was silent except for the soft sounds of violin.