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punchmeitssubtextSherlock Holmes did not, as a general rule, remember birthdays or favorite colors or even a handful of the major holidays. His concept of time was skewed and his understanding of interpersonal relationships relied almost entirely on biological markers and verbal cues. He hated parties. He hated people insisting on traditions. He hated the assumption people made that holidays meant you automatically violated your own privacy and spilled your innermost thoughts.
And yet.
And yet here he was at Angelo's, watching the thin icicles on the window-frame shimmer in the headlights of passing cars.
This is mad, John had said, that first morning after, and he couldn't disagree. It made him a little angry, almost, a little upset that his own comfortable view of the world had been so skewed by a single outside influence.
But it still felt better than the drugs or the cigarettes or even most of the case work.
So he waited.
And yet.
And yet here he was at Angelo's, watching the thin icicles on the window-frame shimmer in the headlights of passing cars.
This is mad, John had said, that first morning after, and he couldn't disagree. It made him a little angry, almost, a little upset that his own comfortable view of the world had been so skewed by a single outside influence.
But it still felt better than the drugs or the cigarettes or even most of the case work.
So he waited.
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Date: 2012-02-05 01:57 am (UTC)"Bloody--" he started, then lowered himself back into the chair. "Really? Really?"
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Date: 2012-02-05 02:00 am (UTC)Several of the other patrons had started to giggle. Most of them hadn't caught on to the intimate moment in progress by the window, but a few had, and were trying very hard not to stare and howl at the same time.
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Date: 2012-02-05 02:07 am (UTC)There was a brown, heart-shaped mound of cake with sparklers set in it.
It was headed their way.
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Date: 2012-02-05 02:17 am (UTC)"Okay. No. Hang on, I'll fix this. And if Angelo insists on cake, be ready to flag a cab."
He practically sprang out of his chair, heading towards the dessert and its bearer with an impressive scowl already twisting his face.
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Date: 2012-02-05 02:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-02-05 02:41 am (UTC)John's phone buzzed. His sister had decided to take this moment to text him--with, rather predictably, a message of concern over whether he was on a date right now.
"--just trying to have a quiet dinner--"
And another text.
From Mycroft.
Enjoy your cake.
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Date: 2012-02-05 02:46 am (UTC)"Is it a murder?" he asked, hopefully.
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Date: 2012-02-05 02:55 am (UTC)Unfortunately he'd said it loudly enough for the couple in question to hear. So much for surprises.
"--or those two fellows, they'll be having a proposal--"
His heart might have been on display, however briefly, but now his brain was in charge and there was no stopping it.
"--or that woman, she needs a little encouragement if she's ever going to tell her best friend there how she feels--"
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Date: 2012-02-05 03:05 am (UTC)"Sherlock!" he hissed, making a sharp gesture. "Leave the cake! Cover is blown! Abort mission!"
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Date: 2012-02-05 03:09 am (UTC)"On a scale of one to Vatican cameos--?" he ventured.
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Date: 2012-02-05 03:16 am (UTC)"We are beyond Vatican cameos."
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Date: 2012-02-05 03:23 am (UTC)He strode back to the table, downed his entire glass of wine in about two gulps, then grabbed John by the hand. His social skills might leave a lot to be desired, but at least he had some sense of when to leave.
John's phone buzzed again. Mycroft. Of course.
Ah, romance.