Sherlock didn't quite understand how dabbing a man's forehead for a day could get two people on first name terms, but there he was, now able to call young Mr Watson from Knightly Estate his first name: John. It was such a boring name.
"You managed to make a friend, and you weren't even trying." Mycroft commented at breakfast the next day.
"Are you jealous?" Sherlock asked snidely.
"Don't be ridiculous."
Sherlock smirked to himself and finished the last of his tea. He fetched his hat and went outside to go for a walk when he was met by John Watson on horseback.
"Good morning, Sherlock." John tilted his hat.
"Morning," Sherlock was puzzled. He wasn't aware that Mycroft had given out any more invitations.
"I hope you don't mind me coming around, I just wanted to see if you wanted to come for a ride, and visit the estate for luncheon." John smiled.
"If this is some kind of 'thank you' for the past two days, you needn't bother, I-"
"Don't be daft, I want you to come."
Sherlock thought for a moment. "Alright." He said finally, and he headed back inside to tell the servants to prepare a horse, and ready his riding clothes.
Several minutes later, Sherlock came back outside in his riding gear and climbed on his horse.
"Lead the way." He said to John, and they were off.
They galloped in silence for a while through a small wood and green fields until John initiated conversation.
"So I suppose you've seen your fair share of corpses then?"
This was not the conversation starter Sherlock was expecting, but it was far better than the usual small talk.
"I've seen many."
"Any unsolved cases?"
"Not if I'm involved."
"You're awfully sure of yourself."
"I have a right to be."
"Why is that?"
"I'm extremely clever."
"Is that so? Prove it." John challenged.
Sherlock brought his horse to a halt. John followed and they both stopped and stepped onto the ground. Sherlock stood with his hands clasped behind his back, standing up straight. He cleared his throat.
"You didn't sleep very well last night, as you are indeed recovering from your illness but there are still some effects. You spent most of the night tossing and turning; because of this, you got up this morning before everyone else and decided you'd fancy going for a ride. I can tell that this morning your horse wasn't prepared by the servant who usually does it, but by someone with not much experience. Perhaps the usual man is ill or has had to leave to take care of a sick family member. I also know that your family is sceptical of me, and your so called 'friendship' with me, as they find my hobbies inappropriate. It's likely that they worry I'll expose you to something you ought not to be exposed to in their eyes, such as a crime scene, or even a body. Even though you expressed your thoughts of such an endeavour being inappropriate, I think you long for a bit of adventure; a bit of action. You are not so unlike me in the sense that you find normal life extremely boring, because really, being very wealthy leaves you with nothing to do except pretend you're glad to meet people who you really don't give a damn about and go to luncheon and take tea in the drawing room and smile and fake laugh and make small talk until you finally get to go to bed only to realise that you have to do all the same things tomorrow."
"Well… that was quite amazing; and enlightening. I thought the saddle didn't feel right…" John smirked.
Sherlock half-smiled. "My deductions are much more interesting at a crime scene."
"Well, you know how I feel about attending a crime scene." John grinned.
"I'm sure something could be arranged."
"I want there to be a corpse, mind you."
"Certainly."
John turned his horse around. "Let's go to the house. I think it's about time for lunch."
After sitting through a lunch filled with small talk, John decided he was to show Sherlock around the estate. John led Sherlock out into the gardens when Irene caught up to them.
"Hello." She smiled at Sherlock.
He turned. "Hello."
"Are you well?"
"I'm fine." Sherlock looked to John for assistance, but he didn't notice.
"I know mamma wouldn't like it much, but I would like to come on a case with you one day. I do get rather bored here, not that I can tell my aunt that."
"I think if your mother doesn't like it then I cannot oblige."
Irene frowned.
"I'm just going to head back inside to fetch my hat. I'll be back in a moment." Sherlock walked away quickly, hoping John would sort out his cousin by the time he got back.
"Why is he being so unpleasant?" Irene asked John.
"I think that was a very reasonable thing for him to say. If mother found out, she'd be furious, and would probably ban both of us from ever seeing Sherlock again."
"If he was any other man he would take me somewhere." Irene huffed.
"Why's that?" John inquired.
"All the others did. They would do anything I liked if they thought it would win me over."
"But they never did." John added.
"Why does he talk to you so much anyway? You're not interesting, and I'm a woman; he should be courting me."
John rolled his eyes. "You are ridiculous. You sound like a spoilt child. Go back inside and leave Sherlock and I alone. I invited him over to show him around the estate, and I can't do that if you're on our tails the whole time."
Irene glared, but did what she was told. John couldn't believe the nerve of that woman.
Moments later, Sherlock joined John in the garden once more. They did a lap around the estate's grounds, which were quite large. They then headed back inside and John led Sherlock down to the end of the house he'd never been in.
"My father is a bit of an antique collector," John explained as he led Sherlock down the hall. "He collects firearms mostly, but he also likes strange-looking contraptions and odd things; although they are quite hard to come by."
John pushed open a door and led Sherlock into a large room, which was full of items. There were about twenty or more different types of firearms in glass cases, and there were shelves lined with spyglasses, cameras and even a microphone.
"This is my favourite room in the house. I like to read in here sometimes." John gazed around the room fondly.
"Has he ever used any of these?" Sherlock asked, running a finger across one of the cameras.
"I'm not sure. I could ask him. If I'm very lucky, he might let me have a go with it."
"These need dusting." Sherlock rubbed his fingers together to remove the dust.
"Ah yes, father doesn't like the servants to dust in here; he's worried they'll break something. He does it himself every few weeks usually."
John led Sherlock out of the room of curiosities and back into the garden to his horse.
"Do you want me to accompany you on the journey home?" John asked.
"No, that's quite alright; I know the way."
Sherlock made sure his hat was firmly on. He gave John a nod and what was supposed to be a polite smile, and rode off.