"What are we doing here Irene?" He asked after a few moments in silence. In those silent moments he had also picked up the flask and put it to one side and had lain down on the blanket, Irene had done likewise, they were laying so Sherlock's head was on Irene's stomach.
"Just look up. If there's anything I've got to tell you: just simply look up, up to the sky" Irene said quietly. "You'll know if you're been paying attention of forecasts this last week." She knew Sherlock would have paid attention to the weather forecasts, but not perhaps this sort of forecast – although it was often found on the same page. In fact, it could just be seen as propaganda with it pasted on every page you went to.

Sherlock inhaled deeply and then spoke. "It's the night sky. There's no clouds meaning it's a clear night. There's a lot of people out? Perhaps that means that there is a party? No, it's like the whole of London is out. Well, not whole, I'd say just over 50% are either out or hidden behind their windows. Alien invasion. Haha! I do make myself laugh. That's impossible, there's no such thing. Look, I'm digressing. Irene said the sky. It's a clear night, no clouds. Light pollution, but that's London for you. She also mentioned that the stars are out. Why the stars. Why the sky. Why not on earth! Sky. Stars. Sky. Stars. Sky. Stars. Stars. Urgh!" Sherlock paused for a second when something in the sky flickered.

"Meteors!" He shouted out loud, and then clamped his hands over his mouth as he didn't realise how loud he was. Irene laughed when he shouted it out and laughed more when he came to the realisation of how loud he actually was – more so because of his so off tendencies.

"You brought me here to show me the stars? To show me meteors?" Sherlock was angry but he didn't want to be too angry with her.
"Just call them by their more common name, shooting stars, Sherlock."
There was a silence between them before Irene spoke again.
"Sherlock. I wanted you to come here so we could sit, or lay beneath the sky and watch the stars. They're more prominent this evening, we'll have to wait another year for this to happen again."
"We'll?" Sherlock was confused. Why had Irene used the word 'we'll', rather than wording it as 'I'll have to wait another year.'

"If you want," Irene had placed her hands on his head and was ruffling his hair and daintily tracing her fingers across his face.
"Will it stop you from texting me day and night?" He said, looking up at her.
"Maybe" Irene smirked.