“Nervous?” asked the taller of the two men.
“The notorious Sherlock Holmes actually remembered to ask about his companion’s welfare? What an occasion,” said the disgruntled doctor.
“I’m assuming you’re still mad about the kitchen then?” asked Sherlock.
“I was almost fatally poisoned by one of your experiments, so yes I am still angry,” said John Watson, who was a master of holding a grudge, and wouldn’t let his genius roommate forget about this.
"Trying to determine the ferocity of strychnine in different beverages was a pressing matter that needed to be resolved by someone who wasn't an amateur," declared Sherlock.
"If only being an expert at something could include using actual test tubes or beakers instead of my mug,"
"Aren't you interested in the results?" the taller man asked, looking down at his companion.
"Not in the slightest," said the shorter man, who was smiling now.
"Well then my dear Watson, let go of my hand," said Sherlock, who was smirking.
"Just because you almost killed me this morning doesn't mean that I can't enjoy your company," John said, indignantly.
Mycroft chose that exact moment to pull up beside them in a sleek car with blacked-out windows to take them to their plane. He jumped out, swinging his cane and declaring that he has a very busy schedule and that he did not, in fact, have time for this.
"Hurry up brother dear, the weather is supposed to be atrocious today, and I would like this little errand to be over."
"Calm yourself Mycroft, we will be in and out of Sherrinford before the storm," said the older man's brother.
Half an hour later the island prison came into view and John suddenly sat up and squeezed Sherlock's hand. Sherlock squeezed back and smiled at his companion. A moment later he huffed a laugh.
"And what exactly is just so funny?" asked John
"You're a war veteran, but are still anxious about seeing my sister," he said.
As they walked down the colourless corridors, they passed guards stationed at every door, each with a spectacular scowl. Still holding hands, they stopped at the first of four heavily guarded doors that kept Eurus hidden away. John had a pinched look on his face that meant he was nervous. Sherlock, on the other hand, looked like he had when he faced off against Magnussen. Expression nearly unreadable, brain going through every possible outcome.
"You're absolutely sure about this?" asked the detective's companion.
"Now, now Watson, we're only telling my psychopathic sister about our engagement. I don't see why you are so hung up on whether we will actually go through with it.