This was written simply for fun and is based upon my friend and I's love of Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell as well as Sherlock, plus the tumblr post: "Coffee shop AU where coffee hasn't been made in England for 300 years. I myself am quite a tolerable practical barista."
Carefully turning the worn page, Norrell permitted himself another glance at the silver pocket watch inside of his waistcoat. He couldn't recall the last time he had checked (it was barely a few minutes earlier) and frowned as the larger hand ticked ever further away from nine.
Quite where his apprentice barista had gone-or rather, what he had got himself into, concerned Norrell greatly. Strange seemed to be so easily side-tracked, and Norrell's patience was beginning to wear thin- especially considering how much they had to get through. Sighing softly, he attempted to focus again upon the documents before him; ancient texts musing over the first discoveries of coffee beans. Instead, Norrell found himself pulling out the pocket watch once more.
"Would you like me to go to the Strange's residence and see if your apprentice is up yet?" A low voice announced from the opposite side of the room, the smirk in their voice indicating that they highly doubted Strange was even out of bed.
Before Norrell had chance to decline the offer, despite feeling somewhat inclined to send Childermass to rouse Strange, the door burst open.
"Mr Norrell!" Drawlight's voice preceded him as he swept into the room, followed closely behind by Lascelles. "We must apologise for disturbing you so early, but we have most excellent news!"
Norrell didn't even need to indicate for Drawlight to continue, as the man barely paused for breath before announcing, "The great Sherlock Holmes wishes for you to make him coffee."
"How is that excellent news?" Norrell dryly replied, frowning at the mention of the detective.
Nobody occupied the London newspapers with their feats other than Holmes and Norrell. Even up in Yorkshire, he had heard of the man.
But that did not mean to say that Norrell had any particular liking towards Holmes.
Lascelles naturally agreed with Norrell, remarking that with Holmes' insatiable thirst for coffee would mean making him a cup acceptable to his taste would be a near impossible. Moreover, he argued, it was a waste of Norrell's time: the matter of France withholding coffee beans from exporting was more pressing.
"Ah, but the government insists upon it!" Drawlight declared victoriously, knowing that neither Norrell nor Lascelles could argue with that. "You see Mr Norrell, Holmes is currently working on a crucial case, and is believed to be close to solving it. Yet he claims he needs something for his mind, and tea simply won't do. Holmes' is demanding the stimulation of coffee, and cannot solve the case the government need him to unless he has some. Of course, being England's greatest practical barista, it is only natural that you should prepare him a cup."
Norrell still looked unconvinced; his dislike of Holmes' manner was greater than any insistence from the government.
"If it were known that such a prominent figure as Sherlock Holmes drank well-prepared coffee, then surely the profile of coffee would be raised to more respectable standing once more. That is what you intend to do, is it not?" Childermass added, and Norrell was inclined to begrudgingly agree.
The carriage was called for, and Childermass instructed to send a note to Strange requesting that he meet his tutor at 221B Baker Street. Naturally, Drawlight and Lascelles accompanied them; even Lascelles admitted a slight interest in meeting the esteemed Sherlock Holmes.
The journey there was fairly short, which raised Norrell's spirits slightly as he was only subjected to Drawlight's chatter of Sherlock's abilities for a few minutes.
His spirits were improved even more when Norrell stepped out of the carriage to find a breathless Strange stood by the door.
"I came as soon as I could; undoubtedly this is urgent if we are serving coffee to the one and only Sherlock Holmes!"
"Indeed," Norrell said, though he seemed to linger on the pavement, eyes trained upon the windows above.
"I'll knock then," Strange murmured, grasping the knocker and firmly rapping it against the door.
A few seconds later they heard steps down some stairs and a smiling old lady opened the door to introduce herself. "Hello, you must be Mr Norrell, his entourage and apprentice? I am Mrs. Hudson, the landlady of this building. Please be a dearie and come in; Sherlock is just upstairs."
She turned to let everyone in before ushering them up the stairs: only for a gunshot to surprise everyone.
"Oh don't worry about that, that's just Sherlock having gotten bored. He said he'll fix it." She leant in conspiratorially, "Though I don't think he will as he's so lazy when he can't be bothered!"
The sound seemed to have deterred most of party slightly. Norrell had paled, wishing he had never left the comfort of his coffee bean larder, whilst Drawlight and Lascelles, whom had been inspecting the hallway's decor, were silenced and startled; even Childermass appeared a little unnerved by the proximity. Only Strange seemed indifferent, calmly enquiring if they could proceed upstairs.
The group glanced at each other in thought as the landlady led them to the apartment furthest to the right. She asked them to wait a bit, and informed them that she would 'get the boys'. There was a lot of hushing and whispering until they quietened in anticipation.
A tall, lanky man opened the door, his raven locks dishevelled in appearance. Norrell frowned a little in disgust at the state of their host, whilst Strange merely gave one of his ironic grins.
Silence lingered over the landing as the figure observed the group for a moment.
He slowly outstretched a finger in the direction of Norrell, before moving across to Strange "You must be Mr. Norrell, and his apprentice, Jonathan Strange."
His gaze flickered over the remaining three men. "Seeing as none of you are practical baristas, I see no need for you to come any further."
With that he opened the door slightly to let only the two baristas in. The door promptly slammed shut on the baffled group. Drawlight in particular stared at the door in disbelief, when it slowly opened a crack and another face appeared.
"Look, sorry about Sherlock. He's just a little odd so you might want to wait for your friends at the cafe down the street." He gave an apologetic smile before introducing himself "Oh, and I'm John, John Watson-it was nice to meet you."
With that the door closed once more and the group was left to contemplate their choices. Even through the door, Drawlight's protests were audible, though they eventually diminished. Neither Strange nor Norrell were concerned over whether he and Lascelles would go to this cafe; though Norrell knew that Childermass would simply return to Hanover Square and await him there.
Glancing around, Norrell took in the surroundings cautiously.
The haphazard stacks of books reminded him somewhat of his library back in Yorkshire, though the room was much more of a mess.
He observed the skull on the mantel and slowly inched away from the fireplace.
'Good god I'm in the company of a madman.' He cast a pleading look at Strange, who didn't notice because he was already chatting away amiably to the smaller fellow, Watson. "Arabella and I are such fans of your work sirs, the way you solve cases is simply astounding."
The man with disarranged hair observed this and then with a flourish introduced himself. "I am Sherlock Holmes, the one and only consulting detective- you have come here to aid me in my troubled times of need." As neither seemed particularly impressed by this, Holmes decided upon a different tactic. "I've even had coffee from these so called 'coffeehouses' in London, yet their baristas were merely theoretical; I believe you two are England's only practical baristas?"
"That we are, sir," Strange replied, though Norrell only gave a curt nod, narrowed eyes studying Sherlock intently.
"So, do you have a particular blend of coffee you prefer or would you rather we surprise you with one of our new blends?" Norrell asked.
Sherlock inclined his head to the left and ran a hand down the end of the sofa. There was a sly glint in his eyes, which narrowed as he relaxed back into the arm chair.
"Why don't you… surprise me?" A wolfish like grin accompanied the statement. Both practical baristas felt a shiver run down their spine.
Norrell groaned on the inside at the prospect of having to guess what his host would taste. (After all coffee was only palatable to the most refined of tastes and even then certain people would prefer specific tastes.)
"Would you prefer your coffee beans grated and finely ground or roughly ground?" Strange asked, given Norrell's prolonged silence, before addressing his tutor, "Did you bring any of your fine selection of beans with you?"
Looking slightly flustered, Norrell admitted that he had not, giving Strange a pained look that conveyed his horror at having to part with his treasured coffee beans.
Noting the man's distress, Watson added, "Well we have a few rough English grated beans and then we have the fine Italian roast but I believe I had some Arabian roast as well..."
At that, he cast a suspicious glance at Holmes, who shrugged. "Already tried that- too bitter."
Watson rolled his eyes, as though he had already known that Holmes had stolen his coffee.
"I confess, I have always found Arabian too bitter unless a little sugar is added," Strange agreed, though Norrell merely made a noise of contempt.
Holmes smiled at the reaction whereas Watson narrowed his eyes at the small facial movement.
'This isn't going to end well.' He thought as he glanced back from Sherlock to the two guests.
Norrell began to pace around as Strange made room for him. He knew that he was sorely going to regret this and made a small prayer that he wasn't going to end up killing anyone before he begrudgingly asked if the present company would like to go to his manor where he would give them a few of his own blends to taste?
Another sly grin told Watson all he needed to know. Holmes had planned it all, but how was completely beyond him: 'Sherlock's deductive skills, well, with those anything was possible.'
"Are you sure? We don't want to intrude." Watson looked towards Norrell (who looked like a constipated mole at the notion of having guests round for his beans.)
Knowing that Norrell would take back his invite in an instant, Strange replied, "Of course, it would be an absolute pleasure!"
Another carriage was called for, and soon the two baristas were back at Hanover Square, along with their guests.
Awaiting them in the drawing room were Drawlight, Lascelles and Childermass. Norrell's manservant simply nodded with a slight knowing grin of his, whereas the other two, reclining in the chairs away from the door, were loudly discussing Holmes and his companion.
"Oh, back at last!" Drawlight called, not bothering to turn around, "What a rude fellow, don't you think?"
"Mm, I'd thought that a man of his breeding would behave in a more civilised manner," remarked Lascelles, faltering as he did look around and see the figures accompanying Norrell and Strange.
If Holmes had been offended by the comments, he did not make it obvious. Instead, the great detective steadily wandered around the room, observing the shelves lined with coffee bags with their country of origin printed in silver type.
"Go on then, surprise me with a concoction of your own." He announced airily, finally settling in the seat behind Norrell's desk. Although it was the only available seat, Norrell was rather displeased to see the man sit down on his chair with such ease. In fact, feeling more comfortable now that he was in his own territory, he would have said something, had it not been from the glance Childermass shot him.
As it was unclear whether Holmes' words were addressed to Norrell or Strange, both had suggestions about which type of coffee to serve.
"If Arabian is not to your taste, then I recommend something with a nuttier quality, finely ground, of course."
Crossing over to the shelves by the window, Norrell selected a bag of beans that had been smuggled in through Denmark.
"If stimulation is what you are after, then nothing energises like roughly grated beans, with a little sugar perhaps?"
"Grated beans and sugar?" Norrell cried, unable to contain his disapproval. "Grating beans is simply preposterous."
Drawlight and Lascelles were now engaged in the conversation at hand. Having dabbled in coffee theoretics, their knowledge of the proper way to brew coffee was of the way Norrell used, and so they too discouraged Holmes from drinking anything that Strange prepared: "Next thing you'll be saying is you wish to add milk and put coffee in tea bags!"
From the shadowy corners of the room appeared Childermass, who had been silently observing the events. He presented the two baristas each with the necessary equipment in which to prepare the coffee.
Going to opposite sides of the room, the pair set to work.
Watson fluttered by awkwardly to where Holmes was sat and stood behind him, unsure if he should ask the baristas if they wanted any help. But he decided against it, for he was after all, a tea brewer, and would probably mess up the rare art of making coffee.
As he looked around Watson saw how the company of Mr Norrell simply sat around their table discussing some of the blends that had truly been disgusting. Acting like little boys on a playground, they tried to top up one another with increasingly preposterous tales.
Sneaking a sly glance at Holmes so as not to be intrusive, he hoped not to get another remark telling him that he was thinking too loudly. Sighing, he wondered why Holmes had to be so picky, if only he hadn't brought Mycroft into this! Petulantly, Watson shifted to relieve the pressure on his foot. 'Surely instant coffee isn't that bad?'
Before the group knew what was going on Strange had a crudely grated cup of coffee with a cube of sugar to offset the bitterness of his blend. Wondering if he should dare put a few crème biscuits on the side of his platter, Strange then stopped to observe his masters blend.
Mr Norrell was graceful in his movements as the rhythm of the grinding ground the coffee beans into a fine powder. Having already roasted his beans before, he wasted no time taking out his own contraption. It was shaped like an hourglass but less harsh with its curves and the top was open.
Folding over a fine piece of filter paper he placed it into the top of the open hourglass. The top of which now acted as a filter to separate the ground beans from the hot water.
Taking the metal kettle that he'd put to boil earlier, he began to pour the hot water slowly into the carafe.
Waiting for the initial water to pass through he checked the consistency of the colour. Pleased at the chestnut coloured liquid he gave an approving hum. Taking one of his decorative demitasses, he picked a well-loved blue demitasse .
Taking the gradient blue coffee cup he swiftly admired the golden engravings. Placing it on its saucer Norrell carefully took the brewed coffee and elegantly poured the coffee into the cup. Looking up he found Holmes staring intently at the coffee he was brewing. Clearing his throat he looked over at Watson.
"Mr. Watson would you like a demitasse as well?"
Looking up from his stupor Watson stated out an affirmative and Mr Norrell nodded once more.
Taking another ceramic glass into his hands he carefully looked it over and then set it down and proceeded to pour a second glass.
Instead of making his student's mistake, he put a small decorative bowl that had a small wall going down the middle on one side- he put a few sugar cubes and on the other he put some refined sugar crystals.
Checking his presentation, he carefully loaded everything onto the salver and carefully made his way to where Holmes sat.
His student quickly ambled after him with his blend in hand and they both set their beverages before the consultant detective.
Siting up, Holmes spoke, "Now, let the tasting begin."
1 When using this one must make sure that the water wasn't boiling and that one didn't strain for too long: otherwise the brew would become bitter and tasteless.
2 The ceramic coffee cup was a rarity in itself because not very many people were practical baristas: however collections like Norrell's were very sought after. Most of the times there would only be a single set if not no more than 6-10 would be made but 10 at most. As such it was truly remarkable that Norrell had such an expanse of demitasses'.
3 A salver is a pretty metal serving tray.