Author's Note: Can 700 words still be called a drabble? I don't care. This is inspired by a dream I had where I was a waitress serving Sherlock and John. Its in a waitress' pov at a restaurant whose name is not disclosed. Review and tell me what you think! I don't own Sherlock, John, or Rosie, but I do own my OC waitress.
Vivian was nearing the end of her shift when she approached the table with two men and a small child. The child—a little girl—looked to be about four or five, and she was dressed in a white dress printed with cartoon bumblebees. Looking at the trio as she walked over, Vivian's first thought was that the men were married and the girl was either adopted or the biological child of one of the men and a surrogate mother.
When Vivian stopped next to the table and smiled, giving the trio the standard waitress greeting (Hello, how are you all this evening? Etc, etc…) she recognized the famous detective and his friend Dr. Watson. So, the girl must be Rosie Watson, well-known to readers of Dr. Watson's now infamous blog. Vivian wondered how on earth she hadn't recognized them before, as she was constantly on Dr. Watson's blog. She hoped her excitement about meeting the men she had been reading the adventures of for years didn't show on her face.
Dr. Watson gave Vivian an obligatory smile after she delivered her automatic greeting. He seemed too preoccupied with getting his small daughter to settle down in her booster seat and stop trying to throw the silverware to acknowledge the waitress verbally. As for Sherlock Holmes, he was looking at a photograph of a decapitated corpse lying on a dusty floor. Most likely a victim from the latest case, Vivian thought, her eyes leaving the gruesome picture as quickly as she had glanced at it.
"May I take your drink orders?" Vivian asked, a mega-watt smile on her face.
Rosie piped up in answer, speaking in a shrill, sweet voice, "I'm firsty, daddy!" By 'firsty', the child probably meant 'thirsty'. Vivian had a couple younger siblings and she knew that most children struggled to pronounce that tricky "th" sound.
"Yes, Rosie, dear, I know. Drinks would be great." Dr. Watson said, the last sentence directed at Vivian. And then, to the detective, "Sherlock, forget about the crime scene for a moment. It'd be nice to eat one meal without the danger of accidentally looking at those nauseating pictures."
Sherlock Holmes grumbled. "We don't even have our meal yet. I can examine it for a little while longer." The great detective sounded almost as childlike as the five-year-old beside him, and Vivian rather thought Dr. Watson resembled a single father with two kids in the way the man was trying to make sure Sherlock and Rosie were on their best behavior.
Vivian didn't know what made her do it, but instead of asking all three diners individually what they would like to drink, she turned to Sherlock and asked, "What would the Watsons like to drink?" She could've died right there of embarrassment. Why was she asking the detective to display his powers of deduction and mind-reading as if it were a carnival trick?
Sherlock Holmes looked amused, though, so Vivian relaxed. "Rosie wants a lemonade, but she already had three glasses of the sugary substance this morning—"
Dr. Watson interrupted, "Because her godfather is incapable of saying 'no'."
Sherlock resumed, "Yes. Therefore, her father wants her to have either milk or water. John would have ordered a beer if his daughter wasn't here, since we are joined by Rosie, however, he will have a coffee." Sherlock said all this with the complete confidence of a man who knows his friend very well.
Dr. Watson rolled his eyes and smiled. "Exactly right, as always."
Vivian scribbled on her notepad, "And your order, sir?" She asked Sherlock.
Sherlock shrugged, "Coffee as well."
"Can I have lemonade, daddy? Please?" Rosie looked at her father with imploring blue eyes.
Dr. Watson shook his head and kissed Rosie on the nose. "Sorry, love, I don't yield to those beautiful eyes as easily as Sherlock."
Vivian smiled at the three of them. It was a very different smile than the forced, painful smiles she normally gave to diners. Being a waitress was a thankless job, but occasionally there were rewards. Like meeting your internet heroes. "I'll be right back with those drinks." She said.
"Thanks." Dr. Watson said.
Vivian couldn't wait to tell her friends about this chance meeting.