"But I-" she cut herself off, Holmes' stern look silencing her efficiently. He really was a bastard. People had warned her, but she had chosen to only half-believe and give him the benefit of the doubt. He was more attractive in real life than in the paparazzi photographs, so the benefit of the doubt had lasted longer than it should have, but now he was telling her to shut up immediately after asking her to speak.. The man made no sense! It was infuriating.
He turned his head, still glaring at her until his eyes switched at the last minute to look at his friend. Watson, the poor bugger. Luckily for him he seemed to be on his way out. How on earth did he manage to live with th-
Holmes tilted his head skyward and closed his eyes, lips pursing ever so slightly as his companion bent over and soundly kissed him on the lips, hands hanging by his sides holding his bag and keys.
"See you later," he said, standing up straight again. "Hope it's a good'n." Holmes sneered, opening his eyes slowly.
"Doubtful," he glanced over at her briefly. Her already slightly agog mouth curled into its own sneer. Holmes, unmoved, returned his gaze to Watson.
"We don't need any food, come back as soon as possible. Take a taxi," he commanded. She scoffed silently. Inconceivable. What a twat!
Watson smiled fondly down at him and turned to the door.
"Nope, see ya!" he called, clattering down the stairs. Holmes stared at the door momentarily, collecting himself before turning back to her.
"So, you suspect your father. It seems to have slipped your mind that he's disabled."
Oh. Oh, so it had.