Hey! I rewatched TEH, and I suddenly realized, 'How is he seeing properly if he just took some random dude's glasses?' So, this is what I definitely think would have happened in the restaurant.
Remember, I don't own Sherlock!
Sherlock, having adjusted the bow tie around his throat, scanned the room for any other loose articles which would help him in his clever disguise, never stopping his walking. Aha! There! He spied a man put his glasses down on his menu and smile at his Boring date. Oh, well, all the better for him. With a mumbled incoherent phrase, he grabbed the menu, including glasses, then put them on. Now, what else, I think at that-Good Lord, he's blind!
The glasses, he cursed himself for not recognizing sooner, belonged to an incredibly farsighted person. Everything looked fuzzy and indistinct; distances within 10 feet were uncertain. I think I should be able to get to John's table without much trouble, though, if I depend on the layout of the room as I memorized some seconds before-or not, he thought as he tripped over a table leg in his confident stride and promptly faceplanted into the ground. During the ensuing uproar, he reflected. Well, at least I didn't land on my back. No need to aggravate THOSE wounds. Oh, am I still on the ground? Oops. Wait, I know that voice!
John Watson had been contemplating the small box in his jacket, about to take it out, when suddenly there was a CRASH! He quickly turned, and saw a bunch of people all crowded around one area, looking at something on the floor. "Excuse me, I'm a doctor," he said, quickly cutting through. His heart stopped cold when he saw a head of curly black hair on the ground. Just my luck, someone who collapsed has the same hair as Sher-no, can't think of that now. Do your job, Doctor Watson.
"Hey, can you hear me? Are you alright?" he called softly, checking for a pulse. It was present, and strong. John frowned. He turned the man over to see his face. And stopped cold. "Sher-Sherlock?!"
Soon, all three were seated at John's table. Mary was looking at John nervously and John, face expressionless, was looking at Sherlock intently. "So, care to explain why you end up three years later, dressed as a waiter, facedown in the middle of a restaurant?" He prided himself on the fact that that was said rather calmly. Sherlock mumbled something. "Say that again." This time, his tone was somewhat sharper.
"I was trying to disguise myself so you wouldn't recognize me immediately. The glasses I procured were not suitable and I… I tripped."
"…You stole someone's glasses for a disguise, then tripped because they were the wrong glasses?" John said finally. "You do realize that is completely your fault, and you deserve that?"
Sherlock just scowled, and John sighed, rubbing his face in his hands. Since when was his life so complicated?
Yes. This is what happens when I watch Sherlock. I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not.
Please review! I'll give you online bacon and eggs if you do!