Izzy's Ice Cream was only a block from Baker Street and on the same side of the building, so no street crossing was needed, much to John's relief. Sherlock said they were going in the morning because it wasn't likely to be as crowded then. He was right; the shop was mostly empty as they entered to the ringing of a bell. John glanced around to see where it was coming from, then realized it was attached to the door. That was funny. He hadn't known doors could make ringing sounds instead of beeping ones.
The shop was small and simple, with only a few round tables and chairs around the glass-encased counters where the ice cream was kept. The walls were painted a cheerful yellow, with a checked pattern on the floor. There was so much color in the world; it was like everybody wanted to see how much color and sound they could cram in at once.
"Welcome, what can I get for you?" John turned around. A woman with clear gloves was smiling at him. At times, he was still amazed at how many people there were in the world. There was someone every time he turned around.
Sherlock took his arm. "We're still deciding," he said to the lady. She said that was no problem and to take their time, and Sherlock spoke softly to John. "They've got forty different flavors of ice cream, and twenty toppings. Do you need me to read them to you?"
John smiled. Sherlock was much more like his old self today. He hadn't even made a fuss about the stairs that morning. John held his hand and inspected the labels. Most of them were easy. Vanilla. Chocolate. Cotton Candy. Rocky Road. Mint Chocolate Chip. Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough. Cookies n' Cream. Fudge Brownie. Rainbow Sherbet. Strawberry. Peanut Butter Cup. Butter Pecan. Black Cherry. Coffee. Pistachio. "I can read them, but how do I know which one to get? Nick only brought me one kind of ice cream, and I'm not sure which one it was."
"You can ask for a sample," Sherlock said. "They let you have a small taste for free."
John stood there, waiting for Sherlock to signal the lady. It took him a minute to realize Sherlock intended for him to do it. Well, he supposed he couldn't avoid talking to strangers forever. He slowly approached the lady, who had moved to the cash register. "Um."
"Are you ready?"
Ready for what? "C-could I have a sample, please?"
"Of course! What would you like to try?"
Well, that was easier than expected. Only now he'd have to decide on a flavor. Or could he try several of them? "The chocolate chip cookie dough and the peanut butter cup." He liked chocolate chip cookies and peanut butter, so surely those were safe choices.
"Coming right up," she said, and John relaxed at her friendly tone. Sherlock flashed him a proud smile. She handed him two tiny spoons with different colored ice cream on the ends. He took them, removed his mask, and carefully tasted them both.
"Mm." He had never had ice cream like this before. He could taste chocolate chip cookie inside the ice cream, and the other had a taste like chocolate and peanut butter mixed together. "They both taste good." He thought a second. "But I think I like the chocolate chip cookie dough better."
"Excellent choice," she said. "Would you like it in a cup or a cone?" she pointed to a glass box that had small and large cups and a few things that looked like funny triangles.
Sherlock nudged him. "I recommend the cone. You can eat it once you've eaten the ice cream."
John's mouth dropped. "You can eat the thing that the ice cream is in?"
"Yes." The lady was starting to look at John funny, so Sherlock quickly said, "We'll take two waffle cones, please. Chocolate chip cookie dough for him and fudge brownie for me."
As if getting ice cream and getting to eat its container wasn't exciting enough, apparently you could also put things on top of the ice cream. John had never tried the candies, so he asked for blueberries. Sherlock got sprinkles. Once he had paid and they were holding their cones, they sat down at one of the tables.
John was in awe. He had never thought ice cream could look so beautiful. She had scooped it stylishly, and Sherlock's ice cream was covered in a little rainbow. John had to be reminded to eat his before it melted.
"I've never had so much of it," he said. "And never—what's it called? A cone? I've never tasted that." He took a cautious lick, and holy hell it was so good that he wasted no time in taking a few dozen more licks, to Sherlock's amusement.
"Here," he took a few sprinkles off of his own ice cream and put them onto John's. "These are quite good." He was right. John loved those as much as he loved the chocolate chip cookie dough. Whoever thought of combining chocolate chip cookies with ice cream must have been a genius. And to put blueberries on top! In a container you could eat! John couldn't stop grinning. And it was all for him. He didn't have to share with Nick at all.
When he had eaten half of the ice cream, John took his first bite of the waffle cone. It still seemed impossible to him that you could eat a container, but when he took that first bite, he was amazed. "It's almost as good as the ice cream!" He bit into it voraciously. "Mm, so good."
"Slow down, it's not going anywhere," Sherlock teased. "Don't want to give yourself a stomachache." John couldn't help it. He finished the whole thing before Sherlock even got to his cone.
The bell rang again as they left the door, their bellies full and their hearts happy. "That was really good, Sherlock. Thank you." The look on Sherlock's face when he said that put a smile on John's own.
"I'm glad. We can head back now."
"Already?" Sherlock stopped. "Is there another place we could go?" John was equally shocked by his own question, but he meant it. That had been so nice he wanted more. This was better than Telly.
Sherlock hugged him right then and there. "Of course there is. There's a park not too far from here, it was next on my list."
They started off, intertwining their fingers. John tried to remember if he had seen a park on Telly. "The park is a bunch of grass where kids play, right?"
"Basically," Sherlock said. "But it's more than just grass. Depending on which one you go to, there can be lakes and cafés and other such things. People play sports, sunbathe, walk their dogs."
Dogs. John shuddered at the thought of the big one from before. No, he wasn't going to let that stop him. Sherlock was here now. He would know what to do.
Like the ice cream, the park was better than John imagined. He and Sherlock sat on a bench and watched people come and go. The sky was finally starting to be blue again instead of white or grey, and kids were playing football nearby. Someone else was playing a stringed instrument. A fountain was spraying happily. Something about all of the trees was peaceful.
"This is the prettiest part of the world so far," he said.
"Far from it," Sherlock said. "Keep in mind, you're only seeing one part of the world. We're in London. That's one city out of over four thousand." John's expression made him chuckle. "We need to get you a world map."
John couldn't comprehend that much space. That sounded like more than any person could see in a lifetime. London alone was huge. Before he could ask Sherlock how big it was, he heard a flapping sound next to them.
"Sherlock!" he tugged at his coat. "Look!" He pointed to the bird, a real bird, standing next to their bench.
"Careful, those pigeons can be nuisances," Sherlock said with a little scorn. "You feed them once, and they never let you forget it."
John barely heard him. "A real bird," he whispered. He had seen them so many times on Telly. Once a bird had even landed on Skylight, but Nick had insisted he had imagined it. He reached out his hand to touch those soft grey feathers. The bird flew off before he could.
"No, come back!" Too late. "I wanted to pet it," he grumbled.
Sherlock snorted. "Come back with some food next time. They'll eat it right out of your hand." Something caught his eye. "Oh, here comes another animal."
A jingling sound was getting louder, and suddenly a little black dog was in front of them, wagging its tail like Buster had done. Sherlock wasted no time in reaching a hand out, and unlike the bird, the dog jumped up to meet it.
"Good girl," he fawned, scratching her ears and rubbing her head. He nodded to John. "This one will let you pet her."
John was hesitant at first, but she didn't look big enough or strong enough to pin him to the ground, so he slowly joined Sherlock's hand with his own. The dog gave it a quick lick and stood there patiently, with her paws on the bench between them. Her fur was like a blanket, but warmer, and her tongue was wet and rough. She had the most adoring eyes.
"Hey! Come here, girl." Too soon, the dog ran back to her owner. John looked at his hand, which was still wet from her tongue.
"I can't believe it. I just pet a dog. And I saw a bird." God, here he went again with the waterworks. "Two things that would have been unimaginable just a week ago."
Sherlock wrapped him in a tight embrace. "That's just the first of many. We're going to catch you up on everything."