Watson had a difficult time getting Sherlock out of the apartment this morning. It always took some insistence if there wasn't a case for him to delve into, but this morning had seemed to be more difficult than most. The man was a bit of a homebody, but not for any reason in particular that Watson could tell. There was the obvious: the struggle with drug addiction, the antisocial tendencies, the complete lack of interest in the majority of the people he came across. Watson was deep in thought when they came up to a woman sitting alone at a table, and Sherlock stopped in his tracks. Sherlock cleared his throat and in a very drawn out manner said, "excuse me".

She looked up at him with a polite and rather lovely smile, and then went back to her reading. It was an Isaac Asimov Novel, John noted.

"John," he pleaded.

"What?" Watson looked around with what he knew was a clueless expression for a brief moment. "You can't be serious, Sherlock?" He gestured with full hands. "You can't just make someone give you their seat in a public restaurant."

"It's our table." He added petulantly.

"It doesn't matter, you can't just..."

"If you boys are quite finished, you're more than welcome to join me." She offered without removing herself from her book.

"Thanks," Watson accepted. He gave Sherlock a pointed nod as he sat down himself and placed their order on the table.

Sherlock stood stubbornly for a moment while he and Watson had a silent battle. He sat and looked over their newest companion.

"You bite your nails," he stated in a disgusted tone.

She smiled with a slight exhale. "Is that an attempt to get me to leave by being rude?" She was clearly amused.

"No. I was simply trying to say that the biting of one's nails is indicative of a weak-minded person who can't handle stress."

Watson shuffled uncomfortably in his seat.

"Or," she challenged smoothly. "Maybe it's just a coping technique that was formed in early childhood and has become habitual over time." She looked thoughtful. "What do you think is to be derived about someone who notices minute details in an individual, and then agonizes over surmising further information about said individual in an almost obsessive manor?"

The men look baffled between one another. "I'm sorry," Watson paused, "who are you?" He was astonished. "No one talks to Sherlock like that." He was quiet once more, at a bit of a loss for words. "It was," he searched for the right word, "awesome." Not exactly eloquent, but fitting.

"I'm no one important," she said with a smirk as she packed up her belongings. "That's a nice party trick you have, Sherlock. I bet it's great for picking up women," she winked as she delicately turned away.

Their eyes followed her to the counter. Watson frowned thoughtfully. "She used your name?"

"That's hardly cause for alarm." Sherlock didn't break his line of sight on the woman. "You called me by name as we walked up to the table." His answer was slow and methodical, like he had just put it together himself, but John knew better. Sherlock was going through all of the other scenarios, and he was trying to identify their mystery woman.

John reached out a hand to stop her as the woman walked past their table again to leave. "Sorry, but why did you invite us to sit with you?" He was careful not to actually make contact, he only impeded her path.

She smiled.

He looked over to Sherlock and found his friend squinting at the woman, eyes racing over her form. "We were just curious," John tried again in a friendly tone. His hand dropped back down to the table.

She bit her lower lip slightly, never parting them. "I was almost done," she answered simply. She began to walk away again.

Just as she passed by their table, Sherlock spoke. "That's a lie."

She stopped, but she didn't turn to face them.

"That was a lie," Sherlock stated adamantly. She spun around then to face them. "You stopped halfway through a chapter." He nodded to the book she held in her hand. "You weren't almost done."

She smiled again, and this time it met her eyes. "You caught me," she shook her head ever so slightly. "I didn't want to be presumptuous, but I thought the two of you were a cute couple."

"So why did you suddenly decide to leave?" he fired back instantly.

Her face showed nothing but delight to John. It was strange. People usually reacted poorly to Sherlock's impromptu interrogations.

"Clearly I surmised that my initial assumption was wrong," she stated as if it were obvious. "I did in fact comment on how useful your little talent must be when it comes to women." Their entire exchange was riveting to John. It was something else to see Sherlock get a little taste of his own rough demeanor.

Sherlock squinted again. "You're lying." It was odd that he wasn't supplying his reasoning. Sherlock loved letting people know just exactly how he'd outsmarted them.

"You got me," she admitted with a shrug to Watson's surprise. She shocked him yet again when she turned and walked away.

"Okay," Watson was thoroughly confused. "That was very strange." He said this to Sherlock, but the man's only response had been to abruptly get up and follow the woman. John sighed as he looked down at the tray he had carried to the table, and then pushed himself up to follow after his partner.

Emily fought off a smile as she heard the rushed footsteps coming up behind her. She hadn't had fun like this in a long while.

"I suppose I'm to chase you down now," he spoke to her back. "Am I supposed to be intrigued?"

"No," she answered honestly as she pivoted to face him, but continued to backpedal. "But you are."

She smiled broadly. He was a very intriguing man in person. She would never admit it, but she actually followed the exploits of Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson very closely. She had been in London for a few months now, and she was very taken with the story of the detective who always seemed to be in the tabloids. She had even indulged so much as to stumble upon the blog of Doctor John Watson. They had been on some incredible cases, and she was a little jealous of the freedom they must have as independent detectives.

She sensed something in him then, and she stopped moving. She nodded her encouragement. "So, let's have it," she added simply as Dr. Watson approached.

"Definitely American," his words sounded confident, but she could tell he was struggling. "Definitely not a tourist," he sounded more confident now. His eyes dropped to her hips and his head tilted to the side. "Law enforcement," he added thoughtfully. Her smile returned.

"I must say, I'm a little disappointed." She feigned a saddened expression. "The great Sherlock Holmes, and you can only deduce that I'm probably American, not on vacation, and am in some way law enforcement?"

Her antagonizing had its desired effect. "You were recently wounded very seriously, about a year ago." It was her turn to squint. "You're fully healed, range of motion is above average, but you favor your abdomen." He bobbed his head from side to side. "Yes, yes. It could be that, it could be bad Chinese, but we both know it is in fact that."

"I don't know," she retorted. "Just sounds like an educated guess to me." She was calling on all of her experience in dealing with other law enforcement officers who didn't understand what exactly the BAU did. She knew she sounded skeptical of Sherlock. "If you'll excuse me," she added cordially. She really did need to get to work.

"Right," he nodded and let her go. "Probably doesn't look good for the boss to be late." Now she was intrigued. She looked at him to find him barely containing a smile with his eyes pointed upward and hands interlocked behind his back. He looked decidedly uninterested.

"Excuse me?" she questioned lightly.

"Hmm?" His demeanor was jovial now, like he was having fun at her expense. When exactly had this exchange flipped around? "You're the commissioner for the London offices of Interpol. Don't be too impressed, I do read the paper." She felt her jaw tighten. "You had your fun, Emily," he goaded.

She was slightly annoyed. She had thought she had the upper hand in their discussion, but she had been wrong. "It's still impressive that you recall that information," she offered.

"No," he interrupted before she could continue. "What's impressive is just how long it took me to deduce that."