So maybe he was impatient. Maybe he needed to get some other hobby than his work and pestering the flatmate that put up with him unfailingly. But at the moment, he could swear, no matter what hobby he found that nothing would make that stupid clock move faster. He considered taking it apart to see if it was working properly. There was no way that it had only been an hour since John had left to have dinner with Sarah.
Sherlock sat up from his prone position on the sofa where he had been for at least the past hour, if not more. He pulled out his phone and let out a frustrated huff when he saw that the Blackberry's time matched that of the clock. Why did time go so slowly when he was bored, and yet when he was having fun, it was gone so quickly? He typed a quick text to John.
"I'm bored."
John didn't answer. Clearly something was wrong. He threw on some clothes and tossed his scarf around his neck. As he was skipping down the stairs, he heard Mrs. Hudson yell something about leaving John alone for a night, but he ignored her. He quickly swirled out into the London night and called a cab.
It was an easy enough to deduce what restaurant John had been planning on eating at. It was elegant, but not very expensive. The hostess tried to stop him at the door, but he told her that there was an emergency and he had to talk to Dr. John Watson. She showed him to the table without preamble. John almost choked on a sip of wine when Sherlock sat himself at the table and Sarah looked irritated, but resigned. Maybe she was finally getting the idea that John wasn't hers? It was about time...
"What the Hell are you doing here?" hissed John when he had got the wine down.
"Joining you, obviously." Before John could snap again, Sherlock continued, "I texted you and you didn't answer me. I thought something might be wrong. So I came to check on you. Now that I'm here, it only makes sense to join you."
"Everything WAS fine until you showed up!" John growled quietly, clearly making his best effort not to make a scene. Sherlock absent-mindedly noted that Sarah had downed all her wine.
A waiter came to the table and asked if they would be needing another menu.
"No,"
"Yes," John and Sherlock chorused together. Sherlock grabbed the menu off the blank looking waiter and smiled his thanks.
John was stonily silent the rest of the night, but Sherlock did most of the talking anyway. He found that Sarah became extremely giggly after having a bit too much to drink. It was irritating, but better than the stunned silence that she had been giving earlier.
Finally, Sarah stood up a little unsteadily. "Well, gentlemen, I think it's time I be going and leave you to it." John fumbled for words to deny what she had said and to attempt to get her to stay. She waved an unsteady hand and told him that she was clearly interrupting and she didn't want to impose. Quick as ever she fled the restaurant, barely stumbling at all.
"Impressive. She must have excellent balance," observed Sherlock. John only glared at him and got up to follow his drunken girlfriend. Sherlock only smiled, self-satisfied, into his tirra misou. He wasn't bored anymore.
