Angelio's

Sherlock, Elaina, and John grabbed a cab and had it drop them off at Angelio's. Angelio was a buff man with a long beard. No Elaina thought. He's not buff. He is chubby. Angelio lead them to a table next to the window on the request of Sherlock. Ever the gentleman, John took Elaina's coat and pulled out a chair. Just as Elaina made to sit down, Sherlock grabbed her hand and pulled her into to booth next to himself.

"Why didn't you let me sit in that perfectly good chair over there. It's the difference of about 2 feet!" Elaina whisper-yelled at Sherlock.

"Isn't it obvious? You are much better at making observations than John."

"That's mean Sherlock!" Elaina slapped his arm.

"Your point?"

Elaina huffed and turned away, ready to engage John in a sensible conversation. Angelio approached the table.

"A candle will set off the mood nicely. You and your friend fighting over that nice lady."

John and Elaina broke off the conversation at the awkward exchange between Sherlock and Angelio. They looked up at the chubby man, intent on telling him that he was wrong but he dashed away, grabbed a small candle, and placed it at the table. Before he excused himself, he leaned down to whisper in Elaina's ear. Angelio turned out to be incapable of whispering, much to Elaina's disappointment.

"I cannot pick for the young lady, but I would think Sherlock would make a good choice." The man said in a rather terrible Italian accent.

Elaina had been sitting with a rather pleased expression but as Angelio uttered the simple words, her gaze had hardened and her smile died.

"I appreciate the input," Elaina growled, "But I think it's none of your business."

Angelio's smile faltered. He bustled away from the table without replying. Sherlock shot her a smirk.

"So this the real Elaina Robinson. I was waiting to get a glimpse of her."

Elaina gave him a sarcastic, mocking smirk. "I don't know what you're talking about."

John cut in quickly, sensing an argument starting. "So tell me about yourself Elaina."

Elaina sighed inwardly. She had been expecting the question. Instead of giving them the full story, she decided to edit her version. "I was born in London. I attended school and went to school, majoring in science and math. When I was 24 I got a job an elementary school teaching math. It was a good job but I was…cut loose. After 2 months I was able to get a standard receptionist job. It was dull and boring. Everyone on my level heard a rumor that an uppity up was in need of an assistant. There was flurry of batting eyelashes and kissing up. I ignored all the excitement but somehow…"

Sherlock cut in "You were picked as the assistant."

"Yah. Anyway the uppity up was Mycroft Holmes. Instead of an assistant he wanted a spy. Trained in combat. I killed innocents. Sometimes unknowingly, sometimes completely aware. I was sent to America but instead of returning here I stayed there. Mycroft left me alone and I thought I was out of the woods and I got a job on the police force and for six years I was happy. Then Mycroft stormed into my flat in the middle of the night. My boyfriend was staying the night and broke up with me, assuming that I was cheating on him for Mycroft since he had access to my flat. Mycroft had to drug me to get me on a plane without me calling the police. Now I'm back in London, I'm a detective inspector in training, and I have no idea why Mycroft wanted me to come back here." Elaina's voice broke at the end "I was happy! I didn't have to worry about some random killer breaking into my apartment. And now…"

"My brother has employed you to spy on me." Sherlock said in a somewhat gentle voice.

"Yes. And I agreed. I didn't know. Now that I do I gave back all the money and I resigned."

"Pity. You should have accepted the money. Think it through next time."

"There won't be a next time. I am done with Mycroft Holmes and I'm done with my past."

John rest a calming hand and Elaina collapsed into the embrace. While they were hugging, Sherlock was doing what he did best when people were emotional. He looked awkward. Just as he opened his mouth to say something incredibly insensitive, a cab stopped outside 22 Northumberland Street. Abandoning everything, Sherlock leapt up and exited the restaurant in a hurry. Extracting themselves from their tight hug, Elaina and John chased after him, John halting only to slap some notes on the table before following.

What preceded the exiting of the restaurant could only be called an adrenaline rush. Elaina kept up with Sherlock very well and John lagged a bit behind. Halfway through the chase Elaina noticed that John was running along with them without his walking cane. She opened her mouth to inform John but Sherlock realized her thought process and quickly sent her a desperate look, conveying that he wished for Elaina not to tell his companion. Shaking her head in laughter the continued running after the cab.

Finally, they caught up and paused the cab. Opening the cab door to accuse the supposed murder only to discover a 35-year-old American in the seat. Obvious not the killer. Quick to cover up his mistake Sherlock faked being a police.

"Sorry Police! Open her up." Sherlock announced in a pompous voice. Grasping the cab door, he

wretched it open.

"No, Teeth, tan What, Californian? LA, Santa Monica. Just arrived." He muttered in obvious disappointment.

"First trip to London, right? Going by your final destination and the cabbie's route." Elaina said.
"Sorry, are you guys the police?" The man asked in a confused tone.

"Yeah." Sherlock and Elaina displayed their badges. "Everything all right?"
"Yeah." The man said, obviously confused.
"Welcome to London." Sherlock and Elaina chorused before running off.
"Er, any problems, just let us know." John said in an attempt to make up for Elaina and Sherlock's rudeness following after the pair.

Panting as he caught up to them he wheezed out "Basically just a cab that happened to slow down."
"Basically." Elaina said
"Not the murderer?" John asked
"Not the murderer, no." Sherlock chimed in.
"Wrong country, good alibi." John said to clarify. "Hey, where did you get that?"
"Detective Inspector Lestrade?" Elaina complained.
"I pickpocket him when he's annoying." Sherlock explained.

Elaina giggled and shoved Sherlock a bit. "You must pickpocket him a lot."

"Yah" Sherlock agreed.

John looked over his shoulder in time to notice the man from L.A. conversing with some police.

"Got your breath back?" Sherlock asked

"Ready when you are" Elaina said.

Together they jogged away and headed back to 221B Baker Street.

John and Sherlock leaned against the wall of 221B, panting and wheezing. Elaina had gone knocking on Mrs. Hudson's

door, begging to use her shower. The doorbell rung and Sherlock waved John to answer it.

"Elaina texted me and said you forgot this." Angelio held out John's cane.

"Thanks" John replied, shaking his head as he thought about the curvy ex-assassin.