Sarah brought the wine glass to her lips, drank a little, placed her wine glass down and licked her lips.
"Wow John," She smiled, "This place is really posh, and how could you afford it?"
John sat across from her in his jeans and, because it was a special occasion- he and Sarah's three month anniversary- he wore his smart blue jumper. He shrugged.
"I have my ways," Those ways, unknown to Sarah, was borrowing money from Mrs Hudson ("Add it onto the rent").
Sarah flipped her long hair back. She was wearing an elegant red dress, and a fake diamond necklace. She looked beautiful.
The started had just finished (Soup for both of them) and they waited for there main meal, satisfying their hunger with warm bread and wine.
Just then, John's phone began to ring. A couple of people glared at him, and he silenced it quickly. But it rang again. And again.
"Sherlock," John hissed under his breath. But wait. Sherlock rarely phone, he usually communicated via text. Maybe something was wrong.
He excused himself briefly, and ducked outside to phone his flat mate back. He picked up straight away.
"John. Come home now," Sherlock was panting, obviously he had been running.
"Sherlock, I can't, I'm with Sarah," John snarled down the phone, "Don't ruin another night,"
"John, please," Sherlock's voice had an unusual tone to it. He sounded…frightened.
"Sherlock, what's wrong?" John began to worry.
"John, please just come home," Sherlock sounded as if he was about to cry.
"I'm on my way,"
John hung up, and ran into the restaurant.
"Sarah, I'm sorry but-"
"You have to go," Sarah looked down at the food. It must have arrived while he was outside on the phone.
"Yeah, I am so sorry, maybe we could seduchle something for-"
"No John," Sarah yelled. All eyes where on them, "Whenever we try to have time to ourselves, your boyfriend there has to jump in and ruin everything! Why do you have to do everything he asks?"
She pushed out her chair and stormed away. John sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. But he couldn't concern himself about that. Sherlock was in trouble. Maybe he was hurt. Or worse.
John got the cab home, hollering at the driver to hurry up and get him there. When they finally arrived at Baker Street, he threw the money in the startled driver's face and jumped out.
He ran half-way up the stairs, when Mrs Hudson appeared.
"Oh John, I baked some shortbread, would you-"
"Not right now Mrs Hudson," John said impatiently. He pushed her gently to the side and hurled upstairs.
He threw open the door to the apartment and looked around.
"SHERLOCK?" He cried. His partners face appeared from behind the couch.
"Oh good, you're home,"
"What wrong? What happened?" John asked.
"In the bathroom," Sherlock instructed, before ducking behind the couch again.
John hurried to the bathroom. What was inside? A body? An assassin? Words written in blood on the walls?
He opened the door. Nothing.
"Sherlock, there's nothing here,"
"YES THERE IS! IN THE SHOWER!"
John pulled back the shower curtain.
"What am I meant to be looking at?"
"THERE IS A SPIDER!"
John looked down. A tiny spider scuttled his way up the tap.
"YOU RUINED MY THIRD DATE IN A ROW FOR A BLOOMIN' SPIDER!" He screamed.
"YES! GET RID OF IT!" Sherlock screamed back. John picked up the tiny creature, and put it outside the window.
He came back to the living room and looked behind the couch. Sherlock was hiding under a blanket.
"Is it gone?" He whimpered, pulling back the woollen shield to face his blogger.
"Yes," John rolled his eyes, helping him to his feet.
Sherlock was pale and sweaty. When John took his hand, he noticed he was shaking too.
"Sherlock, are you scared of spiders?" John grinned.
"…Maybe," Sherlock blushed and tried to duck away.
"That's adorable,"
"Oh, shut up,"