Quotidianness, or The Ordinariness Behind the Perfect Coffee

John pushed open the door to Ratiocination but froze when he'd walked only halfway inside. Turning, he checked the door, yes, this was Ratiocination and, even considering what he knew about science fiction, it was unlikely he'd crossed into some alternative universe where normal coffee shops had somehow come to be decorated in bright, happy colours and play terrible pop songs, but then he looked behind the counter and wondered if that was indeed the case.

Because... Sherlock was smiling.

At customers.

And not only that, but Sherlock was smiling at customers who were being rude to him.

John watched in amazement as the customer at the front of the line ordered her coffee while talking on her mobile without paying even the slightest bit of attention to Sherlock who, amazingly enough, still acknowledged her with a cheery "Right away, ma'am" and then began working on her drink.

The next customer asked for, and received, an extra-hot latte, a drink John was positive he'd seen Sherlock belittle anyone who ordered it at least five times before due to the fact that not only would the milk break down, scald and smell foul if he were to attempt to prepare the drink as asked, but he'd most likely burn himself as well. Yet, despite of that, Sherlock made the drink as requested and then sent the man off with a bright grin and a happy "come again!"

Something was seriously wrong.

John first assumed Sherlock was labouring under some sort of illness, but he didn't look sick; there wasn't any sheen of fever and his hair wasn't slicked back with sweat. His face showed no signs of flushing and his hands were as steady as always. Next he searched for signs of drug use, but no... as he approached the counter he saw that Sherlock's pupils were reactive and of normal size, there was no yellow tinge to his skin or bluing of the fingernails and no track marks to be found.

"How can I assist you today, sir?" Sherlock asked, his smile wide enough to show his molars.

John stared, he could feel his eyebrows raising dangerously high.

"Perhaps you would like to try a handcrafted special of the day? Our caffe macchiato has a quite nice velvety frothed milk topping." Sherlock's voice dropped low and he added, "Oh do stop starring at me like I'm addled, it makes you look not unlike a moping mudskipper. Today is a test; an experiment if you wish."

Moping mudskipper, John mouthed with a slight shake of his head as he replied, "A caffe macchiato sounds lovely, thank you."

"Coming right up, sir." He began to work on the drink and, keeping his voice low, explained, "My business model is unusual, even you have to agree with that, and I felt the need to test my standard daily income against that other styles. This week I am emulating a more itypical/i," he practically sneered as he said the word, "coffee shop, thus I have adopted the persona of a friendly, if slightly vapid barista."

"Right. Of course." John handed over a five pound note. "And how's the experiment going?"

"Feigned politeness is excruciating." Sherlock offered John his change and then presented him with his drink. "Here you go, sir. One caffe macchiato, just like you ordered and made specially just for you!"

"Erm, yes. It looks grand, thanks."

"Make sure to return next week, I'll be playing the part of a goth biker complete with tattoo and surly attitude. Wait until you hear the music I chose!" he whispered before stepping back, offering a cheerful wave and, in a loud voice brightly announcing, "Thank you for shopping at Ratiocination! Please come again!"

John contained his shudder with difficulty. He was fairly certain he'd be avoiding returning until Sherlock's little experiment had run its course, he'd no interest in going to an ordinary coffee shop- that's what drew him to iRatiocination/i in the first place. Although... goths wore mascara and black lipstick and the like, didn't they?

Huh.

Sherlock in makeup. That could be interesting.

Disturbing, but interesting.

One week later...

Pervestigation, or The Thorough Investigation Into the Perfect Coffee Shop

John couldn't help himself; come Monday he went to Ratiocination to see how it had been transformed for Sherlock's Goth experiment. The music was blasting so loudly he could feel the vibrations through his boots and once he opened the door the volume practically bowled him over.

Sherlock himself was a sight to behold, pale white face made all the more stark by blackened hair, lips, eyeliner and mascara. He also counted seven piercings, including one on the nose.

Although intrigued, the migraine John felt forming wasn't worth venturing inside. Heading home John wondered what Sherlock's next transform would be.