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The evening came around quite quickly to Watson's delight. They both returned to Baker Street to change after their almost silent continued visit at the library. Holmes had hardly uttered a word unless it was to himself, save when he asked Watson for the time, which seemed quite an unusual request considering Holmes had his own watch adorning his waistcoat. Come to think of it, that was not the only reason Watson was worried. For once, Holmes was not waiting for him by the door, but vice versa.

"Holmes," Watson called up, fiddling with the brim of his hat. "There is a cab waiting. Are you alright?" There was a good few moments before there was a reply. However it was more of a clatter of objects then a reply.
"Holmes?"
"Yes, yes… I'll be with you in one moment. " Watson frowned and signaled to the cabby that they would be a while, when Holmes finally jostled down the stairs, shooting Watson a weak smile.
"I could not find a pin to go with my cravat. Will this one do?" Watson leaned in to inspect it.
"Seems fine. Here you are." He said, handing Holmes his hat and cane before signalling him out of the door. "We'll be late."
"Fashionably." Holmes muttered, striding out to the cab and getting in, Watson following close behind.

Within half an hour they were seated and eating (perhaps less eating on Holmes behalf) in Birmingham's. No, Holmes was far to engrossed in other things to eat. The objects of his study were unknown to Watson, who occasionally looked up at his friend.
"Are you not hungry Holmes?" He inquired, taking another forkful of his meal. Holmes shook his head and himself out of his rêverie.
"Not particularly. But do not allow my loss of appetite ruin your own meal my dear man."
Watson nodded. "I wasn't going to. I was just concerned, that is all." He stated, going back to his meal. "You would tell if you were feeling ill, wouldn't you Holmes?" He added. It was things like this that Holmes admired Watson all the more for. Of course, at times, his consistent inquiries of Holmes' health did bug the man to no end; nevertheless it was encouraging to know that the doctor cared.
"Of course I would Watson. However, I believe I am suffering with something that cannot be cured, not at the moment anyhow."
Watson raised an eyebrow… He was in no mood for riddles. "Well if you find out when, I'll be happy to help." But Holmes took no heed to these words, as he had fallen once again into his daydream. Everything was not as sharp to him at the moment. Other nonsensical ideas and thoughts occupied that great mind of his and he did not know how to be rid of them. Damn them clouding his better judgement.
How long has it been now? Three weeks? No! Four. Four whole week of this. Pull yourself together Sherlock! No… do not look at him again! Perhaps something must have triggered this? What occurred four weeks ago? Think man think…
A slight tap on his shoulder brought Holmes' train of thought to a stop.
"Shall we go Holmes? " Watson suggested, though it was more of a command. "Oh do not worry; you can pay me back when we get to Baker Street."
Holmes looked up at him and sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I am terribly sorry Watson."
"There is no need to apologise Holmes. Look, let us go home, ask Mrs Hudson for a cup of tea and retire. What you need is a good night's sleep and I am prescribing it to you as your friend and doctor. I will not take no for an answer."

Holmes knew he wouldn't either. They were both stubborn but Watson more so, especially when it was his profession they were battling over.
"Alright, alright doctor…" Holmes muttered, getting up and rolling his eyes.
"And no attitude either."
"And out comes the military man…"
"Holmes."

Not long later, they were sat at their table in the warmth of 221b, waiting for Mrs Hudson to greet them with a pot of tea. Holmes sat puffing at a newly lit pipe while his friend browsed through the evening copy of The Times.
"It appears Lestrade has released an official report on the Wimbledon murder case Holmes. Quite early, do you not think?" Watson asked. He received a grunt in reply.
Mrs Hudson appeared with a tray laden with a tea pot, two cups and a plate of biscuits and placed it between the two men.
"The biscuits are only there because Mr Holmes seems off," Mrs Hudson declared, patting her apron. "Whether he decides to eat them or not is for him to sort out." She headed for the door and Holmes gritted his teeth and sighed, to which Watson shot him a warning glare. Be polite and say thank you.
"Thank you Mrs Hudson. I shall attempt to eat one if it means that much to you." Holmes said as Mrs Hudson opened the door and tutted. Watson put down his paper and took a sip of his tea, peering over at Holmes at times.
"You look tired."
"Yes, thank you for that splendid observation Watson. Your skills are advancing by the day."
"You get snarky when you are tired." Holmes looked at him and nodded.
"I know. I am sorry dear chap."
Watson smiled. "Here, I'll take my tea upstairs with me so you can get off to bed." He picked up his cup and reached for a couple of biscuits, looking at Holmes for confirmation, which came in the form of a curt nod. They both stood up, making their ways to separate doors.
"Goodnight. Do try and sleep."
"I will try. Goodnight Watson."
They parted, Watson to his room to change into his nightgown and sleep a rather pleasant sleep and Holmes to nestle himself, still donning eveningwear and boots, (sparing the pin. He wished not his life to end by him being impaled because he was foolish enough to forget to remove his tie pin. What a headline that would make in the morning papers!) between his sheets to sleep very little.