Chapter 2

John found him after asking the man at the counter, who greeted him as a guest. Said he knew Sherlock and that he passed through into the kitchen. John followed suite.

The restaurant was indeed small, maybe as small as the one on Northumberland. Which, he wished had shared the front windows as to see the streets outside; it gave a nice open feel. This Italian restaurant didn't favor openness, with tight booths and small tables scrunched near the center. Not very busy, John guessed they were in tight competition for customers. Who some were now looking at him as he squeezed through the chairs to the back of the restaurant. He gathered he may have an annoyed look on his expression.

The kitchen was small and just as cramped; however he spotted Sherlock quickly due to his mop of curly hair. He was exchanging whatever was in the brown paper bag to what looked like the chef of the place. The chef was short, rounded face and small belly sticking through his white apron. He smiled wide showing blinding white teeth as he shook Sherlock's hand vigorously. John came up upon them as he was saying,

"Thank you, this is so hard to come by, Mr. Holmes I didn't expect you to really get me some," his voice was a little shrill, but it was a tad endearing how excited he was. John stood beside his friend with a smile.

"It was only a matter of the sale day," Sherlock had said back, taking his hand back rather rudely and sighing as he stuffed it in his coat jacket, "It was no problem at all."

"Oh! You are too modest," he smiled. John noticed Sherlock muttering, "Really not." And the man continued, "This is a good day for you to sit and eat, yes, oh! This must be your date?" He looked over at John.

Sherlock side glanced him with an eyebrow raised as if he just noticed him, "Hungry John?" He smirked.

John looked between them, "Uh oh yes but, we aren't," he pointed to Sherlock and himself and shook his head, "Date-"

"Only the best table for you and John here, come here, come!" He pulled on Sherlock's jacket and motioned with his hand to follow him back into the sitting area. John's face held surprise and defeat; he couldn't convince these sorts of blokes that him and Sherlock were not, in fact not, dating. He couldn't count how many times people thought they were. It was exhausting just trying to tell them otherwise.

They were relocated to a corner booth that looked the newest, for it had little scratches and the wooden table held a white clean smooth cloth which, of course, had a long thin candle burning in the center. They took a seat across from each other, John facing the front of the place, and menus were dropped in their hands. Sherlock hurried his face in it with a small, "Looks nice enough."

He almost sounded sarcastic, "Yes, thank you," John added, clasping the thin plastic paper, thinking of explaining how the candle was unnecessary and gave the wrong idea, but the warmth radiating was enough to swallow his pride.

"I will be back then, take your time!" He laughed, "On the house of course anything you wish!" He then gave them another look over, even if John was the only one smiling back, Sherlock was still occupied in his menu, and then the chef who didn't give his name, was off back to the kitchen.

John didn't give a look to the menu, he kept his look on Sherlock, or at least the back of the paper in his hands.

Oh, they had hot cocoa here?

"Sherlock." He tested the waters. Usually he would spill the beans whenever he was stern enough with him. So, he at least tried,

"He was in need of a rare cheese, I heard his requests through the grape vine." Sherlock answered melodically, "cost me a little more, however I plan on cashing in his well-earned favor someday."

"This is your trick to people owing you then? Buying them rare things?" John scoffed to himself, now seeing it was a really simple gesture, sure, for someone with money ties. "So we didn't come here to eat?"

"Oh no, no, have you seen the items for consumption? I can feel the calories seeping from the former grimy fingers clutching this menu." He then slammed the paper down on the table, blowing hot air from the candle in john's face.

"You're wearing gloves," John smirked, however after seeing his friend so annoyed by the obvious fact made him retract and clear his throat awkwardly, "So we sit here twiddling thumbs?"

The man's elbow rest on the white cloth and he shifted sideways under the table to cross his legs. His slender fingers slipped out of the gloves and rested under his chin. His eyes fixated on John with a sudden look of observation. Oh yes, John knew this look well. He had just become a subject to some sort of deductive experiment and he felt his secrets were plainly written upon his face. Sherlock could deduce most secrets without hardly trying, it had become habit, however once he paid attention you should be wary of every move.

So, naturally John was immensely uncomfortable.

"Uh, well I meant. Are we staying out of politeness or should I, uh, order then?" He fiddled with the sides of the menu and continued to partially unzip his jacket for it had gotten a little warm. He avoided his friends intimidating gaze and his mind kept screaming, 'Don't let him see it! Don't let him know how you feel!'

"You mentioned you were hungry, by all means." He pushed John's selective choices for lunch closer to him, however his eyes didn't falter in the slightest. Never moving from him.

"Right then, yes. Uh, . . . This pasta with the fresh yellow peppers, hmm, sounds like a good start for the evening." John had only picked the first thing he saw. Sherlock noticed. "Sure you won't be eating?"

"I feel a tremor in the winds." Sherlock indirectly answered, "We will be on a case soon."

"Predicting the future now? On what evidence?" John still avoided his gaze and kept it firmly on the menu as if looking it over. He itched to pull it over his face to hide himself completely from that look.

"It's practically been twenty four hours, John. I am puckishly inviting it, therefore it must present itself."

"Why does that sound to me like you're praying for someone to be killed," John frowned, "only to spare you boredom?"

Sherlock narrowed his gaze now that John met it for a few seconds, saying without precisely saying, 'of course I am.' John rolled his eyes and felt somehow slightly more relaxed with his friends ridiculous expectations on reality. If reality is what Sherlock Holmes occupied like the rest of the world. It was un-telling.

About now John flattened a napkin upon his lap and was fiddling, still a little nervous, with it; practically ironing the wrinkles out when their new friend the chef returned.

"You are not eating Mr. Holmes?" He asked while collecting their menus after John told him of the pasta and a cup of tap water to bring him. He thought of a salads but he knew better than to order something that would take longer than twenty minutes to eat at fair pace. Sherlock would most likely get past bored and that's when he gets left in the dust.

"I mean no disrespect." Sherlock had finally ripped his eyes off John and put on one of his sweet fake smiles to flash in his direction, "Nothing for me this time, Randal."

The chef, now named Randal, nodded quickly. His large physiognomy bounced and he uttered a, "Yes yes, right. No disrespect taken," he seemed to be implying he understood there to be a different type of payment for the rare cheese Sherlock provided, to be collected in the future. He scurried off after smiling at John and promising his best food to be served.

Once he was well out of earshot John leaned forward slightly, "What the devil could you want that man to repay you with?"

"Information most likely, I'm confident all sorts of low leveled thieves and sorts of devious minds occupy Belle-chi." He now looked across the small amount of customers that lined the back wall, narrowing his eyes as if they were the very scum he spoke of. John followed his gaze with a judgment, but expressed confusion as the only people dining in that direction were two old ladies cutting their sauced noodles.

"Old ladies be the most cynical, I wager." He looked back to see Sherlock's face grave serious before he surprisingly bellowed out,

"Old women be damned!"

At that they both cracked a smile and laughed shamelessly as the two women had no doubtfully heard him and were now silently judging. John laughed rather hard and thanked every part of it for relaxing his posture and panicked mind. Actually it uplifted him, every time he heard his friend laugh as such. Sherlock's laugh was genuine whenever you did come by to hear it. Probably the only part of him he could not layer in that thick mysterious exterior he held onto.

It was probably John's favorite noise.

They were cut off by Randal's return with John's water, saying he would be out with his pasta soon. John just tightened his lip and nodded with a, "Oh yes, thank you." Then once he left he burst into another small fit of giggles. Sherlock just smiled at him and then changed the subject back to the previous, "Heard from our head Detective yet?"

"You're always so impatient, want to know what I think?" John took a sip of his iced water and welcomed it to his dry throat.

Sherlock leaned in on his elbow and pushed the tall candle over slightly as to now remove the only thing between them, "Always."

John took another drink after his throat became dry again very quickly once that was said, he felt some heat rise to his cheeks. Any compliment or attention given by his friend resulted as such. "Well," he cleared his throat, "I think the moment you stop looking for it. It will look for you."

Sherlock seemed to ponder this, before smiling again, "Yes, that's insightful John. But, I really don't think I have patients to wait for it to find me." He leaned back, uncrossing his legs and now facing his entire body forward. He created a bridge by his fingers and now set both arms on the tablecloth, resting his chin upon it. His eyes closed and John saw it as a sign of him becoming bored.

"I will keep my phone on nevertheless," he changed the subject, "Do you still wish to visit the library?"

"Hmm?" He was apparently in deep thought, "Oh, yes. I think we could. If nothing more . . . Interesting arises."

John took another sip of water and the ice clanked around, "Somehow I don't doubt it. Hardly such thing as boring day with you, case or not." He laughed slightly.

Now, something dreadful occurred. Dreadful in a sense of curiosity and be damned, John would maybe never know if it came upon on purpose. He felt a tap on his foot, a very light tap that became a bump and there was no question as to what it was. It was so unexpected he let out a small squeak under his breath and his heart practically rose to his throat.

One look at Sherlock said he hadn't known he just did it. His eyes remained closed and expression calm. John breathed unevenly for a second and retracted his feet closer to himself. Sherlock had just bumped his foot with his. Such a small gesture and slight contact made John's nerves dance.

Now he was overcome with the idea his sister was so feverishly pushing upon him last night. She had said that once he was sure of what he wanted he should just go after it. He should pursue it and not take no for an answer. Harry wanted John to make his attraction obvious.

Now came a perfect chance for him to do so.

Oh but, what if it an accident? He couldn't be sure. So he was now thinking to verbally ask him somehow, but his attempt was flourished when Randal came into view and put a plate in front of him. He was now distracted and thinking of his hunger. Randal was gone after an, "Enjoy."

Sherlock had opened his eyes to watch John take his first bite of the pasta that smelled heavily of organic herbs and tomatoes. John hadn't noticed his friends gaze until his attention was brought to him from his peripherals.

Long fingers had wrapped around his cup of water and brought it over to the other side of the table. John stopped mid-chew to watch Sherlock drink from it and set it back down with a soft thud and clank of the ice.

"Could have asked for water if you wanted one." John said after swallowing, his mind now occupied by the thought of the fact that his lips had been on that not a minute before. And, however nimble his friend was on the intimacy of such an act, he might as well consider the unhygienic factor.

"You have a tall glass, you can afford to share." He closed his eyes again and set back in the position he had been in. Apparently still waiting on something more interesting. John wouldn't have stayed here to eat if not the promise of it before they left 221B. He wasn't mentally prepared to scrap something from their bare cupboards.

Now, their lunch adventure consisted of silence and John's fork scraping the small plate everyone in a while. His mind swerving from the foot incident and thinking of other means. Such as what books to get at the library. This kept his attention until he had finished and wiped his mouth gently with the napkin. Sherlock hadn't moved again, after taking yet another drink of his water, and it had been about twenty minutes. He could have most likely been in some self-induced trance. John found him doing that often when surrounded by people in a small area. This made it a nightmare whenever the rare occurrence of him attending the deli down the road. Too many people cramped in a small space and Sherlock practically goes into a coma and refuses to move from the entrance until John was done browsing.

They left after another short visit from Randal, shaking his hand and saying thanks. The duo were now headed for the library that had been a few streets down.

The cobblestone turned to concrete on the sidewalks and they tucked in their coats from the slight chill hitting their faces. John felt satisfied after eating and had a new energy for the day ahead of them. About the time they were coming up on the street intended, John's phone buzzed in his pocket and he stopped to answer.

"Hello~"

"Is he with you?" Lastrade's voice came from the other end of the phone. He sounded rushed and breathing heavy as if he was walking a long distance.

"Sherlock? Yeah, what's going on?"

At the mention of his name, Sherlock stopped abruptly and backed up on his heels to be next to John and press himself in his personal bubble to overhear the conversation. A bright smile on his lips.

"We got one for you again. Too soon in my opinion. We hardly had a break for a moment." There were some voices busy in the background.

"Really? Yes, I'd say too soon, it's hardly been . . . Twenty four hours," he narrowed his eyes at Sherlock and attempted to move away from him with little effort. Failing as his friend pressed on him further.

"I'll have Donovan text you the address, I'm tied up at the moment. Keep him on a short leash until I get there, sorry for such short notice John."

"It's no problem, yes I'll look after it. Thanks for the heads up." He closed the phone and saw that Sherlock was already hailing a cab. He walked to him and shoved his phone back in in his pocket, "Lestrade says to keep you close on this one. He won't be there to moderate."

"Oh my dear John! You were right!" He exclaimed with exultation.

"Hmm? Bout what?"

The cab stopped and Sherlock paused before jumping in with new excitement and a sardonic grin, "Stop looking and it shall appear!"

Thankyou for reading so far, Don't forget to review-it really helps me continue.

I still have a few more chapters lined up, not too sure one when they will be released. Not to long~