Sherlock walked into the restaurant removing his scarf and coat handing them to the people, not really noticing them, his only thought was John, Where was John? How was John? What would John do when he saw him? It was just all John. He passed John's table, with a smile that said he knew a secret the no one else did.
John was sitting at his table… alone… again. He picked up the menu, blocking his view of the other people, and pretended to scan the menu. He heard someone sit down in front of him and he put his menu down. The other person had his menu up, obscuring his face. "So, what are you having, John?" The person asked.
John gasped, only one person could talk like that. And even after three years, he recognized the tone. Only one person could say something like that, but sound like he was calling you an idiot. "Sherlock." It was a choked whisper.
Sherlock lowered the menu and stared at John with an adoring smile, "Hello, John."