So its a bit short, but it didn't want to work with me when I tried adding to it, on the plus side, I got the outline for the next chapter started and should have it done by Friday for regular posting.

June 18th, 2005
Sherlock's POV
Saturday morning he is up and ready to go hours before he actually has to be. He spends most of that time alternating between suits he wants to wear. Some reason this feels different to him in the pit of his stomach than his previous meetings with the blonde doctor. Why does it feel different? It shouldn't but it does.

He is about ready to start pulling his hair out when he hears the soft rapt of Jim's knuckles against the door.

A moment later the door silently slides open, and the shorter man enters.

-I asked Miranda to prepare a high protein breakfast so you will not have to worry about eating later if you do not want to.- the agent tells him, waiting for him to be looking his way before signing.

He nods, a small frown playing across his lips. He wants to eat with John, he doesn't want to eat in public. Every time he has eaten in public he remembers all the rules and manners his mother drilled into him, which wouldn't be a problem, except she always seemed dissatisfied with how he acted at meal time, even when he thought he was doing everything right.

Damn it, why does this have to be so difficult? Maybe he could ask to eat somewhere private? That would require him speaking. No it wouldn't, he could sign. John's alright with his signing. Even seems to prefer it though he is sure he is well out of practice. He could always write a note and give it to the doctor before they leave the office. Yes, that's what he will do. But what if he loses the note? Then he is in the same situation. This isn't helping.

Sinking his fingers in his hair, he starts tugging on it roughly, when he feels a pair of firm hands carefully grabbing the back of his palms and getting him to release his hair.

Startled because he had forgotten that Jim was in the room, and how did he do that? He wonders, he stares at the agent.

Jim let's go of his hands, signing, -It's alright. I can cancel the outing if you'd like.-

She violently shakes his head no. That is the very last thing he wants to happen!

-Okay,- the agent agrees, -Don't cancel. Hmmm. You want to say something to the doctor?-

He blinks and nods yes slowly. Twice he tries to say it, and both times it feels like his throat closes off against him.

Silently snarl, he paces across the room, eyeing the pile of clothes left on his bed from trying to figure out what to wear. He is just going to screw this up, why is he even bothering? Nothing he ever does is right. Hasn't he learned that by now? He isn't the perfect son that his brother is, he is the perfect brother, he's nothing.

He freezes when he pivots to make the rotation in the other direction only to find Jim standing there with his violin in hand. Carefully the dark-haired agent offers it to him, dark topaz eyes watching him with understanding.

For a long moment he is not sure if he should accept it or not. Normally if he starts playing, he goes for hours, and they don't have that long before he is supposed to be meeting John.

Why does he mess everything up?

Biting his lower lip, he takes the violin, but he doesn't tuck it under his chin, instead he holds it close to his chest.

-Let's try something different, since nodding seems to be working, I'll ask yes or no questions and see if I can figure out the issue. Okay?- Jim inquires, dark eyes watching him carefully.

He nods once in agreement, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, before opening them back up and waiting to begin. Why does he have to make this so hard? He should be able to just say it, het he hasn't said a word since his last overdose.

-It's about Doctor Watson?-

Nods.

-It's about lunch?-

Nods.

-You do not want lunch with him.-

Shakes head.

So far this is easier than expected, he thinks as he waits for the next question. Why hadn't anyone else tried this when he had to respond? Though Mycroft probably would have been the only person he answered, not the point, they could have tried it, at least shown effort about his discomfort.

-You do want lunch with him.-

Nods.

-You do not want lunch in public.-

Nods.

Pauses for a moment, nods again.

-So I will tell the good doctor that you would rather eat in private, does that work?-

Nods.

-Great, breakfast?-

He thinks about it for a minute before nodding, setting his violin down on his bed, and heading to the kitchen. That went smoother than he thought it would, and it was easier to communicate when he wasn't expected to speak aloud. Hopefully he doesn't have another one of these episodes with John, that would be so very embarrassing.

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