Originally posted on AO3 and Livejournal July 22, 2016.
Alternate Postings: AO3, Livejournal, Dreamwidth
Content: food, Sherlock's disordered eating habits
Disclaimer: Not my world.
Notes: Written for watsons_woes July Writing Prompt #21: 21 Song Salute. I didn't recognize any of the songs, so I went with a title. I also realize Angelo's is more around the corner down the block and over a bit, but close enough.
Summary: John discovers that when Sherlock is deep in a case and won't eat, sometimes it's better to leave it to the experts.
-.-
Just Around the Corner
-.-
"No," John said sternly into his mobile. "You're eating, Sherlock."
"Can't. Busy," snapped Sherlock over the phone, tin-bucket tones of his voice indicating he was on speaker.
John rolled his eyes apologetically at Angelo, who smiled with beatific patience, a jolly saint of cookery. "You can, and you're not busy enough that you need to starve yourself."
"Not starving." There was a pause, faint shuffling noises. "John, why aren't you here?"
He literally just looked around the room to see if I was in it, didn't he? John sighed. "I've just gone around the corner to Angelo's to get food to bring back home. The sooner you order, the sooner I'll be home, so what do you want?"
"Nothing."
"Something."
"Nope." Sherlock popped the terminal 'p' obnoxiously.
John rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Look. Pick something or I'll pick something for you."
"You realize, John, that threat is entirely counterproductive-" John could bloody hear the smirk in Sherlock's voice, how was that even possible, "-as it presumes you'll pick something I won't like and therefore will be even less likely to consume it."
"You haven't eaten anything since this case started! Nor slept as far as I've noticed."
"Unimportant."
"IS important!"
"Other things are more important."
The throbbing in my temples is important, bloody annoying prat. "Sherlock-"
"Must go, chemicals reacting."
John growled at his phone as it peeped out a disconnect signal.
Angelo reached over and patted John's sleeve with a large hand. "Don't worry, Doctor Watson. I'll make him something he'll eat."
-.-
"-and Angelo made this for you especially, so you'd better eat at least some of it or you'll hurt his feelings."
Sherlock made a rude noise and side-eyed the two boxes John pulled out of the bag.
"We have..." John opened the first box. "...little deep fried balls, and-" He opened the other. "...more... little deep fried balls." John frowned. "Did he send the same thing twice?"
"One box will be sweet, the other savoury," Sherlock said, fingers twitching on the microscope's focus knob in a suddenly unproductive way.
"Looks easy enough for you to grab and eat without much fuss anyway." John sniffed the first box. A rich mixture of meats, cheeses, peppers and other good things greeted his nose. The other box nearby wafted honey and spices. "Ooo. That's lovely!"
"Arancini and frittelle." Sherlock didn't look up, but his fingers had abandoned the focus knob and were tapping on the table, closer to the boxes. "Savoury risotto balls and sweet cake balls, that are usually served during the Christmas season and at festivals and such. Angelo enjoys putting a different mixture of fillings in each one. None of those will be the same as any of the others."
"How do you know which is which?" asked John, examining the identical crisp round brown spheres in the two boxes.
"There are some clues available by smell, but until you eat them there's no way to know for certain." His fingers twitched again against the table.
"So, Angelo's made you two boxes full of balls of mystery?" John chuckled as he picked up his container of lasagne and turned to get a fork from the cutlery drawer. "He really does know you then!"
Sherlock's muffled but slightly crunchy non-response was all John needed to hear.
-.-.-
(that's it)
Note: I have never made or even had Arancini or Frittelle, but they sound pretty good.