"Hello, sirs, I'll be your waitress today and here are your menus. Tonight we have a special event as you will probably know. To celebrate our opening all main meals are half price. If you pay for one drink you can get as many top ups as you like charge free. There is unlimited free starters and desserts for every main meal purchased. Additionally feel free to help yourself to the celebratory cake, it has broken the record for the largest restaurant made Victoria sponge cake in England, the marzipan fruits on top were also made by us. There will be dancing and live music from nine. If you need anything I'd be happy to help." With that the waitress left.
Mycroft chuckled "You certainly have an eye for events, brother mine." Sherlock's lips twitched into a small smile "Living in central London there's always something going on, you just need to keep a look out." As they all looked over their menus Mycroft mused over how if it were several years prior the thought of unlimited dessert and such a large cake would excite him greatly. Sherlock would have made some sort of comment along the lines of him probably having to revisit the place as a crime scene later on because Mycroft will murder that cake.
Yet now he could feel no such enthusiasm, all he could think about was what a dreadful waste the cake there would be when it inevitably went unfinished. Or imagine how much sugar they'd have had to pour into wherever they would have mixed the batter. Probably packets and packets. He didn't really have any opposition to it but his teeth ached just thinking about it. And Sherlock seemed to have become hesitant about making any jokes about Mycroft's weight recently. Mycroft pursed his lips, maybe Sherlock had decided that Mycroft had become too weak and delicate to be able to take that. Or maybe he'd realised that nowadays if he made a joke about Mycroft's size it'd be too true. Mycroft sighed, his appetite dissipating somewhat. He then realised he'd zoned out again, but luckily this time he'd had the menu in his line of sight so it didn't look to strange to be wordlessly staring.
Sherlock watched his brother over his menu. The taller man's eyes were unfocused, his pupils not the size they should be if they were looking at the menu and his eyes stayed in one spot rather than scanning over words. That and the suggestive fact that the man hadn't noticed his younger brother blatantly staring at him meant he had zoned out. Thinking about what? Was there some massive threat of disaster that was affecting the country or threatened to and Mycroft had to come up with a way to prevent damage? Had he come to give Sherlock that case as something a bit more light hearted to concentrate on? Sherlock sighed, hopefully cake would cheer Mycroft up later.
And he really hoped that Mycroft's food consumption wouldn't be out of character because he didn't think he'd be able to handle it if Mycroft developed an eating disorder. John met Sherlock's gaze and gave him a reassuring smile, knowing he was worrying about his brother. "We'll be able to see if he is eating properly soon, okay? And even if he isn't it's not the end of the world I've helped people with eating disorders before." John whispered to Sherlock who nodded with a small smile.
Needless to say when the waitress came back none of the men had actually looked at their menus. None of them had any desire to have a longer choosing time so they all just asked for a drink they knew they liked. "I'll have a regular bitter, please." John said with a smile to the waitress as she jotted down. "Pimm's." Mycroft replied simply, deciding he'd had enough whisky at home and didn't want to alarm Sherlock, who knew he only drank that when he was stressed. "Strawberry and lime cider, thank you." Sherlock said, passing over the drink menu. "Very good, sirs, are you ready to order mains or should I be back with you in a minute?" She asked, collecting their drink menus. "Yeah, another minute or two would be great, thanks." John said and the waitress nodded, leaving.
"Have you two decided?" John said, looking at his menu. Sherlock shrugged "Maybe fish and chips. I'll probably pass on the starter, not that hungry." John nodded "Mycroft, how about you?" Mycroft pursed his lips "Um maybe a steak and ale pie or a calzone. I guess I'll have steamed pork gyoza for a starter since it's free. What about yourself?" John looked over the menu "Hm, not sure. The gammon steak sounds good I'll go for that."
Their waitress arrived back with their drinks and she took their orders. Mycroft sipped at his drink. Although it was more refreshing than intoxicating, the inevitable kick that came with all alcohols was welcomed by him greatly. He fiddled with the straw, pushing the various fruits around in the glass. When Sherlock had seen Mummy drink it as a very young child he'd been extremely fascinated by the fact it was garnished with a cucumber.
He'd wanted to eat the cucumber, strawberry and raspberry and smell the mint but Mummy wouldn't let him because it had alcohol on and he was only a toddler. In the end he'd made such a fuss Mycroft had gone to ask a waiter if he could give Sherlock a Pimm's style drink except with just lemonade and no alcohol. Sherlock had had a complete ball with his 'grown up' drink. Mind, a lot of it had ended up on the floor and over Mycroft's shirt but the beautiful smile on Sherlock's face was worth it completely. Mycroft smiled distantly at the memory. He looked up at his grown up baby brother. He loved Sherlock so much.
"So," said John, looking at his two companions "Since neither of you will do it I guess I should start conversation. How've you been, Mycroft? Haven't seen you in a while." Mycroft pursed his lips, smalltalk was not one of his best areas, although he did know how to smalltalk when he met some important person or another, but smalltalk with someone you actually knew was different. "Oh, I've been fine. I've just been caught up in some paper work. Being a politician and business man is far less exciting than a doctor or detective."
Sherlock frowned internally in frustration at how much his brother could talk without saying a thing about himself. It was a technique he had learnt from his older brother where you are vague about yourself, making your life seem too boring to be of interest as a conversational topic. You then turn the conversation on the people talking to you, flatter them then give them a new topic starter so the conversation can drift away from yourself. Of course he had used the skill many times since learning it, but he didn't like it when it was used on him rather than by him.
"Just paperwork? Must be boring. Sure there's no national disasters at the brink of taking place that I should know about?" Sherlock said offhandedly, there was no way his brother would respond properly if he was full on interrogated. The key to hiding was lacing what you say with truth. If Mycroft said enough truth Sherlock could try to pick them out and piece them together. It's not that Sherlock's thought Mycroft was particularly trying to hide anything, just that it was second nature to both brothers not to let anyone know anything about themselves.
Mycroft smiled "No, I assure you the country is being quite boring right now. I've been condemned to petty paperwork. Even you could do it. Actually you probably don't have the patience." John chuckled "Cheers to that." Sherlock smiled but it didn't reach his eyes, he could see the honesty in Mycroft's words. There really was nothing big and complex and stressful. He could tell from the earnest boredom that he really had been doing paperwork, now he could notice the bruises along his wrists from where he leant his arms against the potable edge, the angles showing he'd been writing for some time with his right hand while holding paper down with the other. So if his brother really had been just doing stressless, boring paperwork then what was it that'd got him so exhausted and off?
