[8:15 am]
Sherlock hated making appointments. People were always so stupid and slow in comprehending what he wanted them to do.
"Ah, come on. Of course they will clear the hall", he ranted while walking along Cumberland Gate towards Hyde Park, dangling a large carrier bag nonchalantly over his shoulder. Pushing his way through heavy traffic and hordes of pedestrians that were swarming around him like bees, he talked vigorously into his phone.
"There'll be policemen. Every good citizen will be willing to make room for the police. For god's sake, what's going on in your funny little brain? It can't be so hard to get a room in London for a …"
The man on the other end of the line kept complaining.
"Until tomorrow, yes", Sherlock huffed impatiently. "Idiot. Does my brother only hire fools to work for him?"
More complaining.
"Oh, so you usually work at the Palace. I see. No, that doesn't make you any less idiotic. My flatmate and I are scheduled to …"
Being bombarded with a wide range of annoying questions over the phone, Sherlock failed to avoid another pedestrian and was pushed onto the street. A cab nearly crashed into him at full speed before he could jump back onto the pavement.
The cabbie recognised him apparently.
"Holmes, you bastard!" he yelled through the open side window. "Drunk as a rat at eight in the morning! I knew it!"
Now the questions from the phone became even more exasperating.
"No, I'm not drunk", Sherlock hissed. "That was only the … Flatmate, yes. Doctor Watson. Listen, just put me through to my brother, alright?"
A few minutes of silence followed. At least they had finally got rid of the unnerving on-hold music.
"Hello, little brother", a silky voice dripped like honey from the phone.
"Mycroft, what are those people doing? They're slower than Scotland Yard."
"Don't worry, it will all be fine."
"I'm beginning to doubt that."
He cringed when Mycroft made one of his hateful tut-tut-tut-noises.
"Be patient, Sherlock. I put my best people on it."
"They are your best people? No wonder you always need my help to solve the difficult cases."
He heard his brother snort and imagined how Mycroft was standing in his office, wiping sweat from his forehead and nervously rubbing his face.
"What you are asking for, little brother, is … difficult to organise this quickly."
From the irritated tone, Sherlock concluded that he had once again succeeded in annoying Mycroft. He could not help but grin at that.
"But as I said, it will all work out fine", the thin honey voice continued. "I'm looking forward to tomorrow."
"What?" Sherlock gasped while he was dodging a woman with a baby buggy. "I didn't say you were invited."
"Well, I invited myself, so to say." Annoyed, very annoyed. Clearly.
"But, Mycroft – what about the diet?" he teased.
Silence.
"Hello?" he tried again, but his brother had hung up.
[8:30 am]
Still grinning, Sherlock leapt through the glass door of JJJ's like a live jack-in-the-box with an extra dramatic coat swirl. The woman inside let out a panicked scream and crashed backwards into a display stand with earrings, causing a shower of glittering pieces of jewellery to rain on the floor.
"Mr Holmes", she panted while struggling to get back on her feet without slipping on the earrings. "You nearly scared me to death."
"No need to apologise", Sherlock replied generously. "I'm used to this kind of reaction."
He gave her what he believed to be his most charming smile. It did not seem to help much. When he approached the counter, the lady anxiously took a step back. He decided to change his expression to a threatening stare, which at least kept her from moving around. She froze as if nailed to the ground and winced as he leaned towards her.
"Do you have everything ready?" he asked, tapping his fingers impatiently on the safety glass surface.
"Sure", she whimpered. "I had Mr Douglas working all night. He was not happy, you know, but …"
"Well, I'm not Santa Claus."
"Excuse me?"
"Oh, never mind. Now, do you have them or not?"
[8:50 am]
When he had finally arrived in Knightsbridge, Sherlock still had about two hours of spare time to pass. After the long walk through the city, he decided it would be nice to find a bench to take a seat on.
He looked around, only to see that all the benches in the vicinity were occupied by people blanketed with rags and old newspapers. Most of them were part of his homeless network. He greeted them in passing. They all waved back, smiling, and asked for money. Sherlock searched his right coat pocket for coins, dragged some out and gave them to a bearded old man who once had helped him tracking down a serial killer. Maybe he would need his help again in the future, so it was important to stay in favour with him.
A girl with green dyed hair who had shown him the way to a hiding place for stolen goods a few weeks ago got the coins from his left coat pocket.
When he met the woman with the colourful headscarf and the polite smile who had once saved him from being severely injured by a knife set as a trap under a bridge, he had no coins left and was forced to switch to ten pound notes.
Twenty-five minutes later, his pockets were nearly empty. The only money he had left was a fifty pound note and he had absolutely no intention to give it away … until he spotted Mrs Baxter and her daughter. The two of them lived in an Underground tunnel and went for a walk to Hyde Park every other day to get fresh air and beg some money.
"Hello, Mr Holmes", Mrs Baxter greeted as he walked towards them. The little girl was holding a plush toy in her hands, a very interesting white teddy bear.
"Wait", Sherlock said and knelt down to look at it closely. He had not been wrong – this toy could be useful. Very useful.
"Can I have it?" he asked, glancing up at Mrs Baxter as her daughter fiercely shook her head. The lady's resulting frown caused him to rephrase his question.
"How much do you want for it?" He produced the fifty pound note from his pocket. "Can I get it for this?"
Upon seeing the money, Mrs Baxter became so generous that Sherlock did not only get the teddy bear but was also shown the way to the nearest unoccupied bench. She even saved the place for him as he went to get himself a coffee to go from a nearby bakery.
"Thank you, Mrs Baxter", he said, sat down and put his carrier bag, which now contained the bear, and the smaller shopping bag from JJJ's next to his feet. The bench was a comfortable place to sit, especially after Mrs Baxter had finally managed to drag her daughter away and the no-I-want-my-teddy-back-screams abated.
Sitting in the sun and drinking coffee, Sherlock spent the rest of the time placing phone calls, giving orders and shouting at people, including a confectionist (once) and Mycroft (twice). It was great. Had he not set his phone to give an alarm at a quarter to eleven, he could have missed the beginning of the course over it.