"Do you know what day it is tomorrow, Sherlock?"
Sherlock stopped typing, his fingers frozen over the keys and his forehead crinkled in a contemplative frown. He thought a moment. It hadn't long been the weekend, had it? Not yesterday though. The day before maybe?
"Tuesday?" he offered, not sounding at all like he believed it himself. He glanced around at John for some sort of confirmation.
John smiled and let out a slight chuckle. "Well, actually it's Thursday, but that's not quite what I meant, Sherlock."
The detective's frown deepened a little. How did it get to be Thursday already? His confusion was interrupted again when John spoke.
"What I actually meant was do you know what date tomorrow is?"
Oh, OK then. Sherlock lowered his hands from the laptop and dropped them to his sides. This one he could answer. In the corner of the screen, the computer's clock told him it was the 17th. He looked across to John with an 'I know this' grin.
"It's the 18th tomorrow, John." he replied with the glee of a schoolchild getting a pop quiz question right.
"Of?" John's returning question was unexpected.
Why did he even want to know? Sherlock didn't understand. John himself was reading the newspaper. Surely the date is on the front page?
"John, really. Where is this line of questioning going? I'm sure there are easier ways to find out the date than to ask me." Sherlock returned to his typing, his frown levelling off only slightly as he did so.
John sighed. Right then. He should have known. It was ridiculous to think that Sherlock would have remembered anyway. He returned to his paper, holding it only a little higher to hide the intense disappointment in his face.