"Jeez, Sherlock, at least buy me dinner first!"
"What, John," Sherlock sounded confused, "are you hungry?"
"No, you git, it's just an expression, a colloquialism, for god's sake!"
"I don't understand."
John tried to explain the sarcasm involved, "Look,mate, you dragged me out of a warm house, away from a hot wife, to have me stand in the freezing rain, just to take notes, which you could have simply dictated into your mobile. You have fucked me over. So, you could have a least bought me dinner first. It's a joke! An expression of annoyance…"
"So, you're not hungry?"
"I'm going to try to explain the sarcastic humor of the expression one more time, okay? If you would like to f… have sex with someone, to put it more delicately, it is customary to at least show them a good time first, such as dinner. Hence, you fucked up my evening, you could have brought me dinner first. Get it?"
"So you're not hungry? And you don't want sex, because…"
"Don't even go there, Sherlock!" It was at this time that John finally noticed the smile on his best friend's face. "Prat!"
"Relax, John. I understand. It's just that I never heard the expression before. But it does leave me with some questions. Such as, why show them a good time first. If the sex act is performed correctly, isn't that a good time in and of itself? Also, does every invitation to dinner suggest a sexual overture?"
"Sherlock, didn't Irene Adler repeatedly ask you to dinner?"
"Yes, John, but there was certainly no meal involved in her invitation. Even I could fathom that!"
"Okay. Of course not every dinner invitation involves sexual innuendo. Didn't you take Mrs. Hudson to dinner last month?"
"She was hungry, John! And upset. She had been upset by that elderly Lothario from the butcher shop. And while, having seen pictures of our landlady in her youth, I will admit that she was very attractive, I certainly did not have sex on the brain. As I am sure it did not enter her mind. At least, I hope not! Anyway, she still thinks I'm gay."
"And didn't you take Bill Wiggins for fish and chips…"
"Good lord, John, even if I could get over the fact that he is the wrong sex, his lack of personal hygiene alone would deter…"
"My point is, that not every invitation to dinner is a precursor to sex. But, in some instances, when two available parties are involved, and some attraction exists, there may, indeed, be some … expectations of, well, something sexual…"
"You're telling me that if a single man were to ask a single woman to share an evening meal, that there may some expectations on the part of the invitee that a sexual incident may transpire?"
"God, do you even listen to yourself? Speak English!"
"If I take a woman to dinner, she'll think I want to fuck her?"
"From indecipherable to gutter speak in a single second! But yes, there is that possibility. Maybe even probability,"
Sherlock Holmes, world's only consulting detective, did not like to admit that he did not know everything, but at the same time he had to bow to his friend's expertise in matters of sentiment. Or lust. Or desire. Actually, virtually everything pertaining to interpersonal relationships. Sherlock was not a people person, but in the past few years, since his acquaintance with Dr. John Watson, and especially since his fake death and subsequent revival, he had come to regret this. Despite rumors to the contrary, he was not a virgin. He had, indeed, had a number of sexual encounters, but hardly relationships. He didn't know how to do relationships, or at least those of the romantic variety. A few years ago he might have said that he did not do relationships of any variety! But that was before John, and Mary, and Mrs. Hudson, and even DI Lestrade.
"Sherlock, yoohoo," John was waving his hand in front of his friend's face. "Any other questions or comments? I'm freezing, here, and I would very much like to go home to my wife. And a shot of whiskey."
"No, John, you may leave. It seems I have an errand to run. Give my regards to your wife. And my goddaughter."
"That's it, mate? You don't need these notes you dragged me out in the cold and rain for? I'm dismissed?"
"The notes are unimportant. The case is barely a two. I've solved it already. Goodbye."
"Wait a minute! Where are you going? What is this errand that is suddenly so important?"
"I'm heading over to St. Bart's to see Molly Hooper."
"Interested in some fresh body parts, Sherlock?"
"In a manner of speaking, John. I intend to ask Molly to dinner!"
John simply snickered as he watched Sherlock turn quickly to hail a cab, leaving him in the rain. It wasn't until hours later, as he lay in bed, finally warm and dry, listening to Mary snoring gently beside him, that he received the following text.
BY MY CALCULATIONS YOU OWE ME 68.87 PLUS TIP - SH
WHY? - JW
I EXPLAINED MY INTENTIONS TO MOLLY OVER A LOVELY DINNER - SH
AND I'M PAYING FOR YOUR DINNER WHY? - JW
SHE INFORMED ME THAT I COULD HAVE HAD HER FOR A CUP OF COFFEE AND A STRAWBERRY TART - SH
TELL HER SHE HAS EXCELLENT TASTE IN PASTRY, BUT NOT SO MUCH IN MEN - JW
I CAN'T DISAGREE, SO I INTEND TO KEEP HER WELL AWAY FROM PASTRY SHOPS IN THE FUTURE! - SH