“Helen!”
“Helen!”
Sherlock and John spoke at exactly the same time.
Neither managed to change her mind.
Helen had made herself perfectly clear, and she wasn’t backing down.
Then again, if she weren’t the kind of woman who could be both gentle and unshakably strong when it mattered, she never would’ve been the one to capture John Wick’s frozen heart in the first place.
Faced with two nearly identical expressions of concern, Helen merely raised her chin like a proud swan and met both men’s eyes without flinching.
Sherlock knew that look.
After five years, John and Helen were the people he understood best in this world.
Helen had already made her decision.
Which meant that even if Sherlock refused to let John come along, Helen would probably just help her husband follow him in secret.
That created another problem.
Sherlock wasn’t exactly thrilled by the idea of bringing John to the Middle East, but leaving Helen and Doro behind was even worse.
S.H.I.E.L.D.—and therefore potentially Hydra—already had their eyes on him.
Leaving the two least combat-oriented members of their little family alone at home while he and John crossed half the planet?
Not happening.
Sherlock looked between John and Helen.
Both of them were clearly refusing to budge.
After a moment of thought, he arrived at an extremely bold solution.
“Fine.”
John frowned.
Sherlock shrugged.
“If Zhao Wick is coming anyway, then screw it.
Everyone comes.”
Helen blinked.
John stared at him.
Sherlock spread his arms.
“We’ll make a vacation out of it.”
Doro understood only one important word in that sentence:
Going out.
Her eyes immediately lit up.
“Doro!”
Still in Helen’s arms, she started kicking all four stubby little limbs in enthusiastic support.
John and Helen, meanwhile, looked at Sherlock like he’d lost his mind.
Sherlock couldn’t exactly blame them.
But from his perspective, the logic was simple.
If he took John and left Helen and Doro behind, he wouldn’t be comfortable.
If he refused to take John, Helen wouldn’t be comfortable.
Fine.
Then everybody went.
It was basically an ultimatum disguised as generosity.
Either they all went together— or John stayed home too.
Sherlock wasn’t particularly worried about the danger.
From his perspective, a trip to the Middle East to rescue Tony Stark barely registered as a serious threat anymore.
Even bringing Helen along shouldn’t create a problem.
As for Doro?
Well…
When Sherlock created her, he’d specifically built in a rather absurd property:
Ranged weapons were ineffective against her.
Doro usually spent her days looking like a helpless blob that existed solely to eat oranges and demand affection, but when it came to pure evasive ability and mobility, she was actually the best of all four of them.
Sherlock had suggested bringing everyone because he’d expected Helen to finally decide this was ridiculous.
Then John could stay home with her, and the problem would solve itself.
Instead—
Helen’s eyes brightened.
“Really?” Get faster updates on novelping.com.
Sherlock’s smile froze.
“I can come too?”
Helen actually looked interested.
“Would I get in your way?”
Sherlock and John both fell silent.
John slowly turned toward Sherlock.
Their eyes met.
His expression said everything.
Your idea.
You deal with this.
Sherlock stared back.
John immediately looked away.
Left.
Right.
Up.
Anywhere except at Sherlock.
Sherlock almost laughed from sheer disbelief.
Oh, so that was how it was going to be?
Fine.
Everyone was going.
And if everyone was going, Sherlock was going to make John pay for it.
Literally.
“We’ll use the Continental’s channels.”
John’s eyes narrowed.
Sherlock smiled.
“And you’re covering the bill.”
John gave him a look.
Sherlock ignored it.
As for whether John Wick suddenly showing up at the Continental again would cause panic among the assassin community?
Sherlock didn’t think it would.
Not as long as Helen, Doro, and Sherlock were standing beside him.
John wasn’t carrying an arsenal.
He wasn’t hunting anyone.
He was apparently just a retired man taking his wife, his weird adopted mascot-daughter, and his obnoxious friend on vacation.
What were they supposed to accuse him of?
Using the Continental’s services?
He’d earned a mountain of gold coins over the years.
Was he not allowed to spend them?
The Continental had excellent service.
Maybe John simply enjoyed being treated like royalty.
Doro couldn’t exactly be stuffed into a pet carrier and checked into the cargo hold either.
Plenty of excuses.
Reality could be ridiculous that way.
John Wick walking into a Continental with a pocketful of gold coins and the restraints of retirement still firmly around him?
Not particularly frightening.
The Baba Yaga was terrifying only when he picked up his weapons again…
and those restraints came off.
John clearly wasn’t thrilled about Sherlock volunteering his wallet for the entire trip, but he didn’t actually object.
His annoyance had nothing to do with money.
It was simply the childish irritation of one man realizing another man had managed to score a point against him.
As for Helen’s safety, John wasn’t worried.
He knew Sherlock too well.
Probably better than anyone except the Ancient One.
If Sherlock said he could keep Helen safe, John believed him. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
So Helen went home to pack.
John climbed into his old Mustang and drove toward the Continental in downtown New York to arrange transportation.
Sherlock, meanwhile, barely had anything to pack.
He summoned the Holy Lance of Longinus.
The weapon appeared horizontally in front of his chest, standing taller than he was.
Sherlock brought his hands together.
Clap.
The entire lance vanished.
Doro didn’t even blink.
She’d seen Sherlock do far stranger things.
Instead, she ran over, grabbed the hem of his shirt, and began tugging insistently.
“Human!”
Sherlock looked down.
“Orange!”
Doro tugged harder.
“Don’t forget orange!”
Sherlock laughed.
“Yes, yes.
Heaven forbid.”
He walked to the refrigerator.
Then proceeded to pack the entire fridge’s worth of oranges.
Only after confirming that her precious citrus supply had been secured did Doro finally look satisfied.
“Doro!”
She scampered off to find Helen.
Sherlock watched her go with an amused shake of his head.
Then he headed into the study and began collecting some of the alchemical items he’d stored away.
Packing for Sherlock was considerably easier than it was for normal people.
That was what spatial storage was for.
He had both space capsules and spatial rings.
The basic principle wasn’t particularly mysterious.
Sherlock had essentially reverse-engineered the idea from Newt Scamander’s suitcase in the Harry Potter movies and then built his own versions.
The space capsules had much larger internal storage and worked somewhat like the capsules from Dragon Ball.
Sherlock used one to bring his Ford Raptor.
Obviously.
They were going to the desert.
If Sherlock went all the way to the Middle East and didn’t take his Raptor out onto the dunes, then what was even the point of going?
Trouble had already come looking for him.
So the only reasonable response was to find a little peace inside the trouble.
That was the philosophy of a man truly committed to enjoying life.
His rings were smaller.
Sherlock had made two.
One for each hand.
The ring on his left stored clothing, cash, and other personal belongings.
The ring on his right carried food and general supplies.
Neither contained an absurd amount of space, but it was more than enough for a trip like this.
By the time Sherlock finished packing, John still hadn’t been gone for long.
And once again, the Continental proved that its reputation for service was well deserved.
It was already late afternoon when John’s old Mustang pulled back into the neighborhood.
Almost at the exact same moment, his phone rang.
The Continental had everything arranged.
All Sherlock’s group had to do was head to the airport.
A flight to the Middle East was ready whenever they were.
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