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Hacked	By : SoftPurpleSherlockian Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 4354 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters and am making no money off of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
John stared at the familiar menu, not really reading it. What was the point? He ordered the same thing every time. Glancing over the laminated paper in front of him was more out of habit than out of any real necessity to see what food was actually listed.
"Ah! Hello, my friends!" Welcomed Angelo, as he made his way to the table where John and Sherlock were seated. "What can I get for the two of you? Your usual?" he asked John, who gave him a smile and nodded. "For you, Sherlock?" he asked as he turned towards the detective.
"Just a glass of Chianti Superiore for me" came Sherlock's answer.
"Sherlock" came Johns warning, "you need to eat. Dinner was your idea."
He just stared at John with a blank expression on his face before shifting his gaze back to Angelo. "I'll have the chicken marsala with a side of spaghetti and whatever vegetable you've prepared this evening."
John felt himself smile at the detectives order. He knew for a fact that it had been at least four days since Sherlock had eaten a proper meal, and was glad to see him ordering some real food for a change.
Angelo smiled at the pair as he collected the menus and started towards the kitchen, stopping every few tables to check on the customers. John knew Sherlock couldn't be counted on to offer polite conversation as they waited for their beverages to arrive, so he set to filling the air with idle chit-chat. Asking about his flat mates latest experiments, and inquiring about his overall health, because honestly, Sherlock didn't look after himself like he ought to. For being a grown man, John often wondered how his friend functioned for so long on his own.
The pleasantries exchanged by the two were interrupted by the waitress who had arrived at the side of their table with the wine. He watched Sherlock nod his thanks, and just like that, the woman was dismissed. He kept his eyes fixed on her as she smiled at Sherlock, her cheeks touched with just the slightest tinge of pink as she left the table.
The affect his friend had on women never ceased to amaze him. Furthermore, for a brilliant man, Sherlock seemed oblivious to how women acted around him. Or if he did notice, it never seemed to faze him, as if he didn't care one way or the other, of course John recalled that girlfriends were not Sherlock's area. John often wished he could be more like that, his own experience with the opposite sex left much to be desired. Landing a date had always been a long, drawn out process that required a lot of work on his part. So much so that John would just as soon throw in the towel on the whole social ritual, and he would, if it weren't for the desire to share a bed with another warm body. Wanking was all fine and good, but in Johns' opinion, it was nothing compared to slipping into the heat of another human being. His thoughts were stirred as he looked up at Sherlock, who was growing restless and starting to fidget in his seat.
"I need a case, John." The detective stated as he reached for his glass. John watched him raise it to his lips and take a sip as he closed his eyes and let out a sigh of appreciation as the flavors invaded his taste buds. He took the moment to study Sherlock's' face in that brief, unguarded span of pleasure, and found himself wishing he had been the one to cause the expression. He tore his eyes away from the heart shaped lips in front of him and focused on a painting hanging on the wall behind the mess of dark curls belonging to the man sitting two feet away from him. A watercolour of what John could only assume was Italy.
"Did you hear me?" An exasperated Sherlock asked as John's eyes made their way back to the face that he had left just seconds before.
"Yes, of course I heard you," he answered in response.
"Have you spoken to Lestrade?"
"I talked to him for a minute today before leaving work." John watched the detectives eyes dance at the prospect of a new case and almost enjoyed killing the spark "he didn't mention anything to me about any cases he needed us for."
"Boring. If there is no case, why did you speak to him?" For a split second John thought he saw a hint of anger flash in his eyes.
He shrugged as he answered, not that is was any of Sherlock's business. "I had to reschedule our plans to go to the pub."
"Why'd you have to do that?" Sherlock seemed genuinely confused and John chuckled.
"Because I can't very well be in two places at once, now can I?" He watched as Sherlock processed the explanation ad read the look of understanding wash over his friends face as the weight of what John had just said finally sank in.
"You canceled your plans to have dinner with me?"
John shifted, embarrassed in his seat and gave a quick look around the room, trying desperately to avoid eye contact before answering. "Yeah, well…" he trailed off and watched the corner of Sherlock's mouth lift in a quick smile before returning to its usual vacant expression.
"Thank you" the detective said softly. It was so quiet, John wasn't even sure he had heard him.
He looked up and met Sherlock's stare, hues of blues and greens that he could get lost in. The doctor smiled at his friend as a silent understanding passed between the two men. John was going to take care of Sherlock. Whether it be bandaging up his wounds when a case went wrong, lecturing him about his manners, or making sure he ate properly. It was a realisation that hit both of them almost simultaneously, and an uncomfortable Sherlock looked away. John wasn't offended, he knew and respected the fact that his friend didn't know how to process or convey emotions.
The waitress returned with their plates, and a relaxing silence washed over the table as the men ate their food in the peaceful quiet. John was impressed with the appetite Sherlock was displaying that evening and smiled as his flatmate devoured his dish. He would go days on end without consuming anything, and here he was eating with a vigor that made John happy. Whatever the reason, he wasn't going to question it.
John was absent mindedly moving his food around his pate in a very Sherlock like manner when the tall, ebony haired man started scrolling through his phone. John knew he wasn't going to be given an answer as to what he was doing on the other side of the table, so he simply didn't ask and continued to pick at his food while watching Sherlock's elegant hands tap the screen that was in front of him. He found himself wondering what those long, graceful fingers would feel like wrapped around his cock, stroking him under the table as unsuspecting families and couples dined nearby, blissfully unaware of what was happening just feet from them. John quickly pushed the thought aside and concentrated on eating his meal, glancing over at Sherlock's plate and was pleased to find that he had successfully finished half of his food without so much as a single threat.
John was taking a swallow of his wine when Sherlock abruptly stood, placed his phone in the pocket of his trousers, pushed his chair under the table and grabbed his coat before turning to his startled dinner companion, "excuse me, John. I'll be back in a few moments."
"Yeah, sure" John had barely gotten out of his mouth before the taller man started walking in the direction of the loo, crossing the restaurant in strides with his coat thrown casually over his arm.
John was accustomed to Sherlock's antics, and paid no attention to the detective's behavior. He was used to him disappearing without so much as a word, at least this time he'd promised he would be returning. However, Sherlock moments were not the standard sixty seconds. A few moments for Sherlock usually meant several hours at the very least to everyone else. The man had no concept of time.
John looked around the room as he continued to take small bites of his food. There was a young family with an infant to his left, and a middle aged couple adjacent to their table; he started to study the pair. The man seemed to be in his mid to late forties, with dark brown hair that had started to grey at his temples. He was affectionately stroking the hand of the woman in front of him as he gazed across the candlelit table into her eyes. She appeared to be a few years younger than her date, judging by the laugh lines around her eyes, and the bleached blonde hair that framed her face, he would have guessed her to be in her early forties. John hardly considered himself in the same league as Sherlock when it came to deducing people, but he had picked up on a few things and shifted his eyes to the left hands of both parties and examined the rings on the second finger of each of them. Married, John thought, that's sweet. He smiled and turned back toward his own table and looked across at Sherlock's plate. The detective had eaten half of his food, exactly half. John noted how the chicken had been sliced right down the center, and everything was divided in equal parts on either side of the plate. Now that's a bit odd he thought to himself as he shifted his focus back to the couple he had been trying to deduce moments before. Something struck him as he moved his eyes over the pair for a second time. He investigated the wedding band of the blonde woman white gold he noted, her partners was wearing one made of yellow gold. A small furrow formed in the brow of the doctor as the realisation sank in, married, but not to each other. Sherlock should be here to see this. No sooner had the thought entered John's mind than he saw the detective making his way back toward the table.
"She's a bank teller, two children, allergic to nickel, and has been married for at least ten years. He's an architect in town for a conference, she isn't his only lover, and his wife knows." Sherlock smirked and eased himself back in his seat, in an almost painful manner.
"Brilliant" replied John as he watched the detective shift in his seat, as if he couldn't get quite comfortable. He continued to study the man in front of him as he ate. He noticed that Sherlock appeared flushed, and his usual marble skin had started to develop splotches of red along his neck, his pupils had dilated considerably, and his breath was quite shallow. John averted his eyes as the man across from him had glanced up and caught John staring. He could feel Sherlock's gaze on him, and out of the corner of his eye, saw the detective reach and turn his coat collar up to cover his long neck.
Sherlock remained silent and finished the remainder of his dinner as John picked at his own meal. "Well this is quite a change" Sherlock stated as he pushed the plate he had cleared away from him and swallowed down the remainder of his wine.
"What's that?" John asked as he tried to ignore the low, raspy tone that Sherlock's voice had taken on upon his return from the loo.
"Usually you're the one lecturing me about eating, and here you are having hardly taken six bites."
"Yeah, well I can afford to skip a meal or two" John scowled "you actually need to eat, Sherlock. Remember the case with the missing bride?" The taller man across from him narrowed his eyes "we don't need you fainting in the middle of another case." John had successfully avoided whatever denial Sherlock was about to spout when Angelo appeared at their table.
"Ah! Sherlock! It makes my heart happy to see you eat!" Much to Johns amusement, Sherlock looked uncomfortable and simply offered a forced smile up at Angelo, as if he didn't trust his own voice to speak. "but you, John! Why you no eat? 'Es your favourite, no?"
"Everything was wonderful, Angelo. My mind's just a bit preoccupied this evening, that's all." He ignored the snap of Sherlock's head as it turned towards him. John knew he was trying to deduce what he had just said and put on his best you're not getting anything out of me face as he continued to thank Angelo for the lovely meal. "If you'll just bring us the bill, we'll be on your way."
"No charge! You know that! Never any charge for the two of you!"
"One day, Angelo, you're going to let us pay you. Especially when it gets Sherlock here to actually eat, it's worth every bit of money!"
Angelo gave a hearty laugh and said his goodbyes. "You come back soon, eh? You too skinny." He slapped Sherlock on the back as John rose from his seat and shook the man's hand. John turned to follow Sherlock out of the door, trying not to over think the difficulty that the taller man was seeming to have while trying to walk. He took a deep breath and stepped into the humid night air.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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