"What has you so dour this evening, Watson?"
Watson continued to stare dolefully out the window, looking out on to the dark and rainy street below.
"Watson?" Holmes moved closer, careful not to startle his friend. In the early days of their acquaintanceship, there had been more than one occasion a hand on the shoulder had led to a violent takedown, and Holmes had had the bruises to show for it.
This time, fortunately, no further effort was needed. Watson turned from the window, looking up at him with forced cheerfulness. "I'm terribly sorry, Holmes, I must have been distracted. Did you need me for something?"
"I was simply inquiring about your unusually subdued mood, Watson."
Watson's cheer faltered. "It's nothing really to worry about, just... Mary was supposed to stop by this evening. Of course, in this rain, that would be impractical, but..." He trailed off, gaze drifting back to the window.
"Ah." Holmes retreated in the face of unknown sentiments, but could not resist offering some form of consolation to his disappointed friend. "Perhaps some music would be a good distraction here?"
Watson glanced again at his friend, his smile smaller but more genuine than before. "If you wouldn't mind, Holmes, I would enjoy that very much."
