"Sherlock," John said after practically a full day of silence, "can I ask you something?"
"Oh thank god!" Sherlock sighed as he poured a quantity of liquid into a beaker from a bottle labelled 'toxic'. "You have been fidgeting all day debating whether to ask me whatever is on your mind and it's been getting on my nerves! What is it?" He agitated the beaker slightly.
"Well, I was wondering," John bit his lip, maybe this wasn't appropriate, maybe there was a reason for Sherlock's behaviour, but surely then he would explain himself? Well he had started to ask the question now so he might as well finish and face the consequences as they come. "Would it be alright if I were to take Magenta out on a date?"
Sherlock placed everything in his hands gently down on the table and sat silently for an uncomfortable amount of time. I've gone too far, just forget about it and apologise, Sherlock will get over it.
"Both you and she are grown adults John; you may do what you like." There was something in his voice that told John he was more unhappy about this than he was letting on. It was cold and void of all emotion.
"You know what, never mind, I won't ask her if it bothers you."
"It doesn't," snapped Sherlock. "Why should it bother me what you do in your spare time?" He resumed his experimenting, frowning as he did so.
"Okay then," John said wearily. "Thanks." He stared at Sherlock for a while, shifting from one foot to the other. "Could I have her number?"
"What?"
"I can't call her without her number."
"Oh, yes, of course. It will be on my phone somewhere." He waved in the direction of his dressing gown. John searched through the pockets until he found Sherlock's mobile. Sure enough, under 'M', a contact number for Magenta was there.
"This is a work number!"
Sherlock shrugged. "So?"
John rolled his eyes as he typed the number into his own phone and dialled.
"Hi, yes, this is John Watson; could I speak to Magenta Holmes please? – Yes I will hold -" John noticed Sherlock shift in his seat so he decided to take the rest of the call upstairs. The ridiculous hold music stopped. "Hi is this Magenta? – Hi this is John Watson, we met at Sherlock's yesterday – no, he's fine – well, I was wondering if you fancied going for a drink sometime – with me – yeah… like a date – brilliant! – Tomorrow? – Sure I can pick you up arou – oh right okay – sure you can come here first – that's fine – okay then I will see you tomorrow – bye!"
As John hung up he heard a patter of footsteps rush down the stairs – Sherlock must have been listening at the door.
"We are meeting tomorrow," John told Sherlock unnecessarily when he got downstairs. "She wants to come here first as we are closer to her work than her flat, if that's okay?"
"What? Yes, yes, fine." Sherlock pretended to be engaged with the television.
The doorbell rang and John rushed down the stairs with only one sock on.
"Nope, don't worry, I will get that," he called to Sherlock as he opened the door to his date. "Hi," he breathed as he stepped aside to let her in. Magenta looked very different to their introduction yesterday. Instead of her fashionable jeans and boots, she was now wearing a pin striped suit, her skirt hugging her hips and her shirt pulled in at the waist by a thick black belt with a silver buckle. Her hair was tied up into a ponytail and the striking make up had been replaced with neutral colours. It was the first time John could actually picture her as a lawyer. "You look beautiful."
"I look horribly plain. But if I went to work in my biker gear no one would take me seriously." There was a hint of annoyance when she said this but she still smiled, tilting her head away from him shyly.
"You have a motorbike?" Magenta giggled at John's boyish response.
"Indeed I do, maybe I will let you ride on the back of it sometime," she winked. John swallowed hard, conscious that Sherlock may be listening.
"Do you want to wait upstairs? I will be ready in two minutes."
"Sure," she replied as she frowned at John's exposed toes. She didn't say anything but John could tell she was trying not to laugh. "Hello Sherlock," Magenta said wearily to her brother. He inclined his head in a response but he stayed focused on the news.
"I'll just get my shoes," John said to her, brushing his hand against her back.
"Don't forget your other sock!" Magenta grinned, allowing the laugh to escape her lips.
It only took John thirty seconds to slip on his footwear. He walked quickly back to the living room, conscious that a war may start if Sherlock and Magenta are left alone for too long. In the corridor he could hear them talking, their voices low. John didn't mean to eavesdrop, but Sherlock has never cared about what people may hear him say before.
"I'm sorry," Magenta was saying, she sounded very annoyed, "you are giving me the talk? My own brother is telling me to watch my back if I hurt some guy!"
"John isn't just some guy, Magenta, he's-"
"He's what?" John could just picture Magenta placing her hands on her hips.
"He's… my friend."
"Oh Sherlock," Magenta's tone had changed completely. It was now sympathetic and caring.
The talking stopped and John took it as his cue to make an appearance.
"Ready to go?" He swung his jacket around his shoulders and slipped his arms into the sleeves as if he had heard nothing. Magenta, who was sitting on the arm of the chair, nodded and followed John to the door. She had released her hair from the hair band so that it tousled and bounced on her shoulders.
"See you later Sherlock," was John's last attempt at an amicable parting. Sherlock made some inaudible remark into the scarf around his neck but he did not look round. A sorry looking John turned away, Magenta linked in his arms, and together they left the sulking child to wallow in his rejection.