John watched as Sherlock stared with a hawk like intensity out of the window of Angelos at the passers by.

"Old knife wound on face covered with make up - ex gang member going to a job interview"

"His wife is cheating on him with his brother but that doesn't matter because he's gay anyway"

Sherlock muttered to himself, his eyes darting from person to person.

Earlier that day Sherlock had got a man in a head lock in at a crime scene in an attempt to scare him into confessing. This had led to yet another fight about Sherlock's lack of tact and warmth towards victims at crime scenes.

While he knew (certainly from experience with the Adler saga) that Sherlock wasn't incapable of emotion, he none the less wondered what it would be like to be able to tune out your natural emotions. While this may have alienated Sherlock from a lot of people (the majority of Scotland Yard certainly) this definitely gave Sherlock the advantage when it came to working.

John actually envied this. As an army doctor he had had an uncountable number of days where he struggled to keep his feelings contained as he had treated yet another young boy wounded through war. What would it feel like to be able to do that without being constantly haunted with feelings of guilt, anger and bitter depression?

Without warning Sherlock stood up, flung his coat around him and exclaimed "Four police cars have just passed within minutes of each other heading North. Lestrade is about to call in to 221B with a case and unless you would rather study my face for the rest of the evening I suggest we get there before he does." Before running out (much to the alarm of the other diners).

Putting his thoughts aside, John sprinted after Sherlock. As he knew he always would.