I woke up seeing Sherlock standing over me saying something. His lips were moving, but nothing was coming out. I slowly leaned forwards in my seat and started coming out of the dizziness.
"What?" I heard myself say.
"I said we are here." Sherlock said to me.
"Here where?" I asked.
"Paris, France. We are here to see Cathrine Sullivan, remember?"
"now you don't need to be yelling. Yes we are in Paris, France. Thank you for making it obvious."
"How long was I out?"
"The whole flight." Sherlock said without hesitation.
"How in the world did I..." I started to say, but stopped.
Sherlock was looking nervously at everything. That's when it hit. Sherlock and Mycroft had this all planed out. They put something in the bottle of water.
"You bloody drugged me. That how I was able to sleep during the whole flight. It was your idea, wasn't it?"
"Actually it was both Mycroft's and mine idea. We knew that you wouldn't be able to sleep because of your bad experience in one one. So I made Molly give me a substance that could knock someone..."
"I don't care how you done it or why. You can tell me this though, why the bloody hell are we in Paris,France?"
"Cathrine Sullivan was relocated here."
"Oh...OK. that's better."
Mycroft pulled up in a black car and slowly rolled down the window. He said "how was the flight Dr. Watson?"
"What ashame. Get in the car both of you. We are going to see Ms. Sullivan."
Said Mycroft in his some what cheery voice.
I desperately wanted to punch both of them in their face, but I tried to remain calm. "So who decided on the plan first?"
"What on earth are you talking about?"
"Don't try that on me. Sherlock already told me. So who thought of the plan?"
"Well since it is out there, Sherlock did."
I turned slowly to face my partner and said to him "really?"
"What? You were going to stay up and start bugging me with questions. I had to shut you up one way or another."
"What was the other..."
"Oh look we are here." Sherlock said.
We got out of the car and started walking to the front door. While walking up to the door I noticed that her relocation was not really a bad idea. She lived in a white colonial two story house. The shutters were black and the so was the door.
Do got to admit though... I loved her house. We walked up to the porch. Mycroft was the one who pushed the doorbell. Then all we had to do was wait to be let in.