It was unusual for the two to be separated during an investigation, but this time it couldn't be helped. Sherlock went off on his own while John went with Inspector Lestrade to investigate different suspects in the murder.
John knew that Sherlock would be using his unorthodox methods. John almost missed them as he and Lestrade conducted their interviews, trying not to seem too suspicious of any of the interviewees. They found out what seemed to be pertinent information. Based on the interviews, they could determine assuredly that the murderer was outside the family and that it was one of the friends that had done it. Which one they were not yet sure, but since Sherlock had not interviewed any of the family, he would need to know this. John and Greg had also determined that the murder was out of jealousy, one of the victim's friends wanted to kill him so that he would be out of the way and the murderer could become closer to one of his other friends. It seemed all of the victim's friends had jealousy over the victim's closeness with any of the others, so this favouritism was at least partly an illusion, but it would seem that that was only clear from the outside perspective that John and Greg had. They were certainly not going to say that to any of the suspects. They would need Sherlock to determine which of the friends had done it, as so far they could not obtain enough information to figure it out on their own. Even if Sherlock could not figure it out, at least once they had conferred with him they'd have a better idea of how to proceed.
As the two of them left the last home they had to visit, John's stomach growled as if on cue.
"Ready for some lunch, John?" Greg asked in response.
"Yeah, that'd be good," John replied. "It's been a long morning."
As Greg drove, John texted Sherlock to let him know where they'd be once he was ready to meet up with them. When they arrived at the restaurant, John and Greg both ordered fish and chips and eagerly dug in practically the moment the plates touched the table, napkins already in their laps.
Sherlock arrived about halfway through the meal, scooting into the booth next to John before asking what they had found out. Greg opened his mouth to speak when his phone went off. He took it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. He deemed it important, got up and excused himself before bringing the phone to his ear, curtly asking "Hello?" and stepping outside the restaurant.
"Well?" Sherlock asked, turning to John, who had still not paused in his eating, hunger not abated. John held up a finger to indicate he'd take a moment, chewing a bit more before swallowing.
"The murderer was not related to the victim," John said before shoving another piece of fish and a chip together into his mouth.
"Go on," Sherlock said. John's response was another lift of his finger as he chewed. And chewed. Sherlock began to fidget impatiently until John finally swallowed.
"It was one of the victim's friends," John said before putting more fish in his mouth.
"What else?" Sherlock asked, beginning to fidget again. John deliberately chewed slower, glaring at Sherlock all the while. Sherlock huffed, annoyed. John continued to glare at Sherlock as he took his time chewing, then swallowing with emphasis.
"The murder was committed out of jealousy," John said, this time putting down his fork and turning to face Sherlock head on, clearly wishing his enjoyable meal had not been interrupted in this way. "All of the friends were jealous of the others' closeness with someone else and wanted him out of the way so they could be closer."
"Is that all?" Sherlock asked, remnants of his impatience of moments earlier still in his tone.
"Well, apart from the details in my notes, yeah," John said.
"Good," Sherlock said happily, grabbing one of the chips from John's plate. "No contradictions with my data, the university friend was jealous of the childhood friend, which was the motivation for the murder. Case solved." Sherlock put the chip in his mouth, smiling smugly at John as he munched on it. John rolled his eyes before pushing his plate slightly closer to Sherlock and then continuing to eat his fish.
"You know you owe me chips," Sherlock said after he swallowed and grabbed another chip from John's plate.
"Why would I owe you chips?" John asked incredulously in response.
"I was eating chips when I found out you were kidnapped on Guy Fawkes Day. I dropped them on the floor when I ran out to find you."
"That wasn't even my fault."
"Irrelevant. I didn't get to eat my chips because of you."
"Weren't you with Mary? If you she hadn't come to you when she found out about my kidnapping, you would have eaten your chips in peace, and I possibly might not even be here, and either way there wouldn't have been any chips to be owed."
"Case in point. You owe me these chips."
"Fine," John conceded. "Just don't eat them all." With that, the two continued eating in silence.
About a minute later, Lestrade returned to the table from making his phone call to the silence of both John and Sherlock eating.
"The case is solved," Sherlock said matter-of-factly.
"I'll call the Yard, then," Lestrade replied.
That night, John once again actually ate with Sherlock. As John prepared for the meal, he suddenly remembered something. The day's case, no matter how swiftly it had been solved, had still distracted John from one thing he had meant to tell Sherlock about, which was that the faucet in the bathroom had broken and he hadn't yet gotten the chance to have Mrs. Hudson call the plumber to repair it. Sherlock had been doing an experiment before dinner and was in the bathroom washing up just as John was putting their modest evening meal on the table.
It was just as he sat down at the table that John remembered that he had neglected to impart the information about the disrepair to Sherlock.
"John!" he heard Sherlock call from behind the closed bathroom door. He remained silent, and in a moment he could hear the door opening and Sherlock's footsteps bounding towards the kitchen.
"Why didn't you tell me that the tap was broken?" Sherlock demanded. "I've already deduced that it's been like that all day." The detective went to the kitchen sink to wash his hands, then stood hovering by John's side.
"Well?" he asked. John looked at him for a moment, then quickly began shoveling food into his mouth.
"No, no, no, no!" Sherlock said, the space between each repetition of the word smaller and smaller, as he grabbed John's arm to try and stop his fork. John used his free hand to try and pull Sherlock's away, but Sherlock had a free hand, too, and used that to push John's away. They wrestled this way until Sherlock realized it was no use, and he angrily took his seat across the table from John, who was once again glaring at Sherlock as he chewed. John knew that an excuse wouldn't work on his flatmate, but his chewing of the mass of food in his mouth at least gave him a little extra time before he would have to face the inevitable. For now, he was happy to look at Sherlock's impatient face.