Chapter .20
Sherlock watches the sugar cube dissolve in his spoon. Places another one inside the small, steaming caffeinated oasis, and watches it again. John, his eye slightly blackened due to their latest hysterical client taking a swing at him, sits down in the seat opposite him. A few lines involving a thrice weaved circle run through his mind (in French this time), and as John places his order Sherlock realizes that this was the first time that the mere presence of someone else had caused the words to form.
