"You know Angelo will consider it a personal insult when he finds out we ate at a different Italian place," John smiled, taking a seat and looking out the window, "I think I have the best viewing angle. Want to swap?"
"No," Sherlock gave a curt smile and waited for John to settle.
"So the culprit is actually inside," John said, grabbing the menu and looking around the restaurant briefly, "Give me the description and I'll help you out."
"There is no 'culprit'."
"Then what are we doing here?"
"Enjoying a companionable meal, I believe that's a common practice."
"We are an hour away from home," John gave Sherlock a suspicious look, "You are dressed to the nines and you specifically asked me to take a half day off, since my presence would be 'essential.'"
"That's correct," Sherlock smiled.
"Something is afoot," John sighed, "Something's happening. Should I even order, or are we going to take off running in five minutes?"
"Please, have your meal."
"Aren't you going to order anything?" John looked pointedly at Sherlock's closed menu.
"Not hungry."
"Of course you are not," John sighed, "That's not at all...ominous."
"I assure you that nothing will distract you from your order," Sherlock leaned closer to John, lowering his voice and fixating John with a serious look, "Apart from nice company."
"Very well," John leaned back, away from Sherlock's intense eyes, and scanned the menu, "In that case I'll definitely order a starter."
It seemed that Sherlock was being truthful - John was enjoying his meal, and Sherlock stole bits of food from his plate, which was all right with the doctor - after all, they were actually sharing a meal.
They were interrupted halfway through John's meal.
"Excuse me, Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson?"
John raised his head to look at a smartly dressed young man standing by their table and smiling brilliantly.
"I am sorry to interrupt your meal," he continued, "But I am extremely lucky to meet you like this. Huge fan."
John laughed, glancing at Sherlock briefly, "Ah, thanks, thanks a lot, but as you can see we are in the middle of lunch..."
"This won't take long," the young man pleaded, already borrowing a chair from another table.
"Well, uh, I do find this rude..." John started.
"Please, John, he said it wouldn't take long," Sherlock interrupted.
"Well," John looked into Sherlock's eyes, trying to read the situation, then gave up and sighed, "Fine, fine. Is it an autograph you want, or a picture..."
"Well, we'll get to that, right now I just wanted to pitch you an idea."
"An idea?" John asked, but the young man already turned to Sherlock.
"Do you know how famous you are?" he asked, gazing at the detective with admiration.
"John's blog has quite a following," Sherlock answered curtly.
"Oh, it's bigger than the blog. I am talking about a base of followers who watch your every step. I am talking about people who admire your personality and your work."
"That's very flattering," Sherlock answered and John mumbled something into his plate.
"And duly so, don't you think? Well, moving on. I think we have enough momentum to film a pilot."
"A pilot?" John looked at the man, confused.
"A TV pilot," Sherlock replied, fixing John with a steady gaze, "One episode of a potential TV series..."
"I know what a TV pilot is," John cut him off, "How do you know what a pilot is?"
"I am not completely oblivious about pop culture, am I John," Sherlock answered, "Especially since you moved in."
"Marvelous," the young man smiled, turning back to Sherlock, "So, what do you think?"
"If I am understanding this correctly, you are asking me to play myself?" Sherlock smiled politely and John narrowed his eyes.
"Precisely," the young man nodded.
"What makes you think I'd make a good actor?"
"Well, it's in your job description isn't it? I imagine that you've perfected your acting skills, to a certain degree, in order to blend in with...certain groups."
"Well I guess I could give it a try," Sherlock smiled again.
John cleared his throat and the two men looked at him.
"So where does this leave me? I am to... stumble into acting as well?"
"No, Dr. Watson, I had a different idea about your part in this," the young man leaned toward John confidentially, "And I believe that you'd make a great writer for our little project. As I said before, you are doing a great job with the blog. I imagine that you might be interested in changing your format a little bit."
"So do you want me to rewrite a case we had so that it would be a script?"
"No, it has to be original. Mr. Holmes's work is too famous, we would lose the element of suspense. Now, what do you say to this?"
John looked at Sherlock, unsure, who was observing him carefully.
"We will think about it," Sherlock said, still looking at John, "And get back to you as soon as possible, Mister..."
"Franklin. Mr. Franklin. And that is fine, I'll be waiting for your call, you can use the number on this card," the young man smiled, giving Sherlock his business card, then getting up swiftly and shaking both their hands, "I must be off now. It was - truly - a pleasure to meet you."
He was gone in a minute, and Sherlock pocketed the card carefully, then took a sip of water. If John did not know any better, he would have thought that Sherlock was avoiding his eyes.
"So," John started, picking at his meal noncommittally, "What am I to make of this?"
"I suppose it was inevitable, people have all sorts of ideas," Sherlock replied, finally meeting John's questioning gaze.
"But it seemed like you were going to accept his offer."
"That's because I am."
"What?" John almost choked on his food, "Why would you do that? We don't need any more publicity. It would interfere with your work...unless you want to...change professions?"
Sherlock grunted, looking out the window.
"Answer me, Sherlock."
"Consider this an investment," Sherlock sighed, "Into our future."
"Our future? Our future?" John laughed, "You know, Sherlock, as someone who writes about you - I must say, you are out of character."