"Children are stupid creatures aren't they?"
"You were one at some point Sherlock."
"Enjoying this. It's so loud, how does anyone focus? Well, that's easy, no one does focus here, they don't need to, don't want to because they're STUPID, don't utilise their minds." He stops, spins on his heel to face me and looks me straight in the eye, for just a second, before turning and gesturing to the giant Goofy walking past. "How can children believe that that is actually Goofy? For one thing it's huge, that wouldn't fit onto their tiny TV screen, yet they still think it's actually Goofy. 'Look Mummy, it's Goofy.' No it's not you moronic child, it's a man in a dog outfit."
A nearby child stares at him, astonished and bursts into tears.
"Sherlock." I hiss at him through gritted teeth. "Stop it."
"Oh no, a child has discovered that CARTOON characters aren't real, next you'll tell me he thinks Santa's real."
The child dissolves into harder sobs and the mother throws me a disgusted glare while ushering her child away from us.
I rub my hand across eyes and sigh as Sherlock looks at me bemusedly. I take his arm and steer him away from the bustling crowds of parents and children.
"Not good?" He asks hesitantly, judging my disappointed mood perfectly.
"No, Sherlock, not good. You can't just announce that Santa's not real in a theme park filled with children!"
"Why not? They should know by now. I did."
"Yes, but you are the exception. You and Mycroft. It is a parent's choice to let their child believe and most children just grow out of it, I did."
"Me, Mycroft and Molly."
"What?" I look up at him, me the confused one again, and he rolls his eyes.
"Molly, I'm pretty sure that's why she's so determined to see the good in everyone, she didn't get to believe in someone completely good as a child, i.e. Santa, so she makes everyone else good now to compensate, I assume her parent's told her Santa wasn't really when she was little. It's quite sad really."
"If you say so."
"You don't believe me?" He frowns but a little smirk remains on his face.
"Yes, I believe you, I just don't care."
"Oh, that's alright then. Where were we, oh yes, we were leaving."
"We were?"
"Yes, it's too loud here. Listen John, you've got to learn to listen."
"No. We're not leaving. We made a deal, we come to Disney Land, we have fun, we DON'T analyse people and we DON'T get into trouble."
"I haven't got into trouble."
"Yes you have, there's an angry mother after you."
"That doesn't count."
"Yes, it does."
"Oh." He looks sad for a moment then a mischievous glint appears in his eyes. He cups my face in his hands and kisses me right on the mouth. I respond before remembering I'm mad at him and pull away. "Oh… Not that kind of fun. So, food?"
He strides off, heading towards a fast food bar. I follow him slowly, trying to keep a cool distance. I hear him order a hotdog and two coffees, scanning the area for a seat while he waits. Catching my eyes he points to a table with attached benches, indicating that I should save it for us. I wander over, dodging between laughing couples and gleeful children and slide onto the bench. In minutes he is seated opposite me and handing my food and coffee. Adding two sugars to his coffee he watches me eat. I pretend not to notice him, smiling at children giggling and screaming as they run around the stands and rides. I can feel his eyes on me and see him sipping at his drink, barely still in my line of vision. I finish eating but don't turn back to him, groping around for a napkin to wipe my mouth. He hands me one but still I ignore him, taking it silently, using it and placing it back on the table. Picking up my drink it almost scalds me and I put it back down, not wanting its warmth when the sun is beating down on me.
"Why did you get coffee? It's hot here." I don't meet his eyes but move so I'm facing in his general direction.
"You like coffee."
"Yeah."
We fall back into our comfortable silence, my annoyance fading away and his understanding growing. Resting my hands on the table I meet his eyes with a smile. I can feel the heat from his hands on mine as he intertwines our fingers. He leans forwards, tilting his head, almost until our lips are touching then stops.
"Sorry."
I meet him with a kiss, sealing the apology and can feel his smile form as my lips touch against his.