He hadn't intended to text her back this time. What exactly could he respond to 'Happy Birthday. Let's have dinner' with? He'd be surprised if she was even in the country.
The cake was enjoyable, but the back of his mind kept replaying what John said to him - obviously built on his depression over losing his wife - yet it still lingered with him. It'd be a lie (one he'd thoughtlessly tell) if he claimed he didn't enjoy their interactions; her intelligence was truly remarkable. She was remarkable.
That night, with Mrs. Hudson babysitting him, he'd showered, shaved and even eaten by the time he lay on his bed, and it one of those rare times he had the intention to sleep. His phone was charging by his bed, and without a thought, he unlocked it, scrolling through his twitter and texts.
He then got to the Woman's text.
Fingers hovered over the screen, brain whirling. He felt his mind palace conjure up her image, a taunting smile playing with her devil red lips: a devil woman she was.
Yet John insisted that in spite of all that, he should 'go after her'.
Sighing, anticipating the future regret, he typed 'Thank you for the unnecessary greetings. Now John not only knows you're alive, but when my birthday is. We had to have cake. At least Rosie was there to keep things entertaining. But I blame you if he throws me a party next year.'
His texts weren't usually so lengthy, but he was trying to make himself appear irritated with her.
When his phone moaned not moments after, he was surprised, to say the least. He hadn't expected another text for a few hours at least.
'I'm not sorry. At least you got to spend time with Baby Watson. I'm in Amsterdam. Come find me and you can scold me. Maybe afterwards we can get dinner.'
'You've heard about my condition. I'm being babysat.'
A voice - that sounded annoyingly like John's - pointed out he didn't exactly decline her offer. He shushed it and waited for her reply.
His phone gave out the moan that was becoming too familiar to his ears, and he grinned at the text:
'Excuses. If Sherlock Holmes can sneak past Big Brother he can sneak past whoever's supposed to be looking after him. Let's have dinner.'
His first impulse was to ignore her, then another nagging voice (though this didn't sound like anyone in particular) insisted that it'd been too long. Besides, if he were to be without drugs and banned from cases as punishment for god knows how long, he might as well go for the next best form of stimulation (or as John so eloquently put it 'kicks').
A part of him groaned at his stupidity whilst the other celebrated in glee.
'Give me a few hours until Mrs Hudson is asleep after her 'herbal soother'.'
'I look forward to it, Mr. Holmes.'