Chapter Three: Dinner at Angelo's

They had to walk to the restaurant, and John was almost ready to saw his aching leg off by the time they reached their destination. They were met at the door by a blushing boy whose nametag dubbed him Billy who didn't take his eyes off Tetsuna as he led them to a table by the window that was obviously a booth with a four-seater pushed against it. John and Sherlock settled into the cushioned booth while Tetsuna sat in a chair facing the door.

Before long, a fat, dark-skinned man with long black hair waddled over to the table and threw his arm around Sherlock's shoulder. "This man got me off a murder charge!" he informed John proudly. Tetsuna sighed good-naturedly, as if she'd heard the story dozens of times before.

On the man's prompting, Sherlock said, "A few years ago, I proved that at the time of a particularly gruesome triple murder, Angelo was at the other end of town, house-breaking."

"This man cleared my name!" Angelo said, squeezing Sherlock's shoulder tightly.

"I cleared it a bit," the detective returned, and John could detect a slight blush on his pale cheeks.

"If not for him, I would have gone to jail!"

"You did go to jail."

Angelo laughed jovially, like Sherlock had just made a joke. "You know the drill, Sherlock. Anything you want, on the house, for you, Tetsuna, and your date."

The easy smile John had been wearing since their arrival was instantly wiped away as his face turned red. "We're not—I'm not his date!" he protested heavily.

Angelo just sent him a knowing look before turning to Tetsuna. "Ah, Tetsuna, you're as beautiful as always!"

Tetsuna ducked her head. "Thank you very much, Mr. Angelo."

Angelo barked a laugh and put his free hand on her shoulder. "Billy has taken quite a liking to you. Won't you put the poor boy out of his misery and marry him already? I'm sure my grandchildren would be lovely if you were his wife!"

John blinked at the rather sudden turn of events. Tetsuna, however, seemed largely unaffected. "I'm sorry, Mr. Angelo, but I don't think I'm ready for marriage just yet."

"That's what you always say!" Angelo laughed. "If you don't hurry, Billy will find someone else!"

"I'm sure she'll manage," Sherlock interrupted, a smile on his face as he stared out the window.

"That's true," Angelo admitted. "She's so beautiful, she must trail broken hearts behind her! I leave you with the menus and come back for your orders in a bit." He patted Sherlock and Tetsuna's shoulders with his meaty hands and waddled over to another table.

A second later, a loud, blond boy with golden eyes had his arms around Tetsuna, practically sitting in her lap as he spoke in rapid Japanese.

Tetsuna sighed. "Kise, please speak in English while you're in London. You're being rude."

"And please remove yourself from Tetsuna, Ryôta," piped Sherlock.

The boy immediately leapt off Tetsuna, scratching the back of his head in an embarrassed manner. Finally able to get a good look at him, John recognized him as one of Tetsuna's old teammates. "Sorry, Kurokocchi," he said in a heavily-accented English. "I just really missed you."

Tetsuna's face softened, and one of her tiny hands reached up to pat the boy's head. "I've missed you as well, Kise."

Two more people entered the restaurant then, both recognizable from Tetsuna's mobile picture. One was the tall, tanned boy with dark blue hair, and the other a busty girl around Tetsuna's height with pastel pink hair. As soon as the girl spotted Tetsuna, she launched herself at the table with a speed that rivaled the blond boy's. The tanned boy followed at a calmer pace, but his excitement was still evident in his eyes.

Once the three newcomers were seated and everyone (except Sherlock) had ordered food, Sherlock nudged Tetsuna with his elbow. "Make the introductions," he instructed gently.

Tetsuna nodded and sat a little straighter in her chair. "Dr. Watson, these are my old friends Daiki Aomine, Ryôta Kise, and Satsuki Momoi." As she spoke, she gestured to the tanned boy, the blond boy, and the girl, respectively. "Everyone, this is Dr. John Watson. He's thinking of moving into the Baker Street flat with us."

There was an immediate, palpable tension as the last sentence left Tetsuna's lips. The two Japanese boys seemed to grow, and their eyes flashed dangerously. "Oh, really?" drawled Daiki. "Tell me, Dr. Watson: are you attached?"

"Ah, no," John answered.

Daiki and Ryôta frowned at each other. "That could be a problem, Dr. Watson," Ryôta said, sounding concerned.

"Akashi won't like that at all," Daiki continued.

Ryôta leaned on his hands, peering at John carefully. "You may want to reconsider your decision to—OW! Momocchi, why did you hit me?" he wailed, clutching his abused head.

Satsuki glared at both Ryôta and Daiki. "Stop it, you two!" She turned to John, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry for how stupid these two are, Dr. Watson. Dai-chan and Kichan are idiots about everything except for basketball."

Suddenly, John remembered his earlier conversation with Tetsuna as they waited for Sherlock to arrive at Baker Street. "Yes, you and Tetsuna were on the same basketball team in school, right?"

Though all three of the table's new occupants stiffened at Tetsuna's name, Ryôta spoke up. "Yeah, we played together in middle school! Kurokocchi and Aominecchi were partners back then!"

"What're Kurokocchi and Aominecchi?" John asked.

It was Tetsuna who answered. "They're Kise's nicknames for Aomine and I. He adds the suffix -cchi to the names of people he respects."

"But your name is Tetsuna," said John, confused.

She sighed slightly. "In Japan, it is polite to call others by their family names rather than their given. Only Aomine and Momoi, who were both in my class, and Akashi call me by some variation of my given name."

John made a humming sound in the back of his throat but made no other response as their food was brought to them.

As Tetsuna and her friends began to chat, John looked at Sherlock, who was looking at a building across the street from their window. "What's that?" the doctor asked.

"That, John, is twenty-two Northumberland Street."

"John very nearly choked on the cola he'd been drinking. "Do you think he's stupid enough to actually come?"

"No," said Sherlock, "I think he's brilliant enough to."

"Excuse me?"

But Sherlock went on, as if John hadn't spoken. "I love the brilliant ones. They're always so desperate to get caught."

"Why in the world would a serial killer want to get caught?" John demanded.

"Genius needs an audience." Just after the last word left his lips, Sherlock's spine went ramrod straight and his eyes became lit. "A cab just stopped outside twenty-two Northumberland Street. Nobody's getting in or out."

"Maybe they just slowed down," John reasoned.

"One way to find out." Sherlock suddenly erupted from his seat, startling the restaurant's other patrons. "Try not to stay out too late, Tetsuna. You have classes in the morning."

"Okay," the girl said. "Be careful, Sherlock."

Sherlock gave Tetsuna's shoulder a gentle squeeze before bidding her friends goodbye and running into the street. John barely managed to keep up.

What followed was the most interesting chase John had ever been a part of. He and Sherlock used back streets, alleys, and rooftops to chase the cab in question, and Sherlock proceeded to use his stolen police badge to get inside. To their great dismay (and, quite honestly, a bit to their amusement), the passenger was a Californian who'd just arrive.

They then fled the scene before the real police showed up.

John and Sherlock collapsed against the wall when they returned to 221B Baker Street, both out of breath and giggling like schoolgirls. "That," John panted, "was the craziest thing I have ever done."

"And you invaded Afghanistan," Sherlock bit back, grinning to reveal strikingly white teeth. John was momentarily blinded by how irresistible that smile was—

Nonono, he chastised himself. I'm straight! I don't like men! "That—that wasn't just me," he finally replied.

Sherlock's mad grin faded a bit and he straightened his disheveled blazer. "Anyway, he said, voice audibly steadier, "even if we didn't catch the killer, I got to prove a point." He then tipped his head back and shouted, "Mrs. Hudson, Dr. Watson will be moving in!"

"Says who?" John demanded, even though he'd already decided to somewhere on their run back to Baker Street."

"The man at the door with the cane you left behind to run after me," Sherlock explained just as the sound of knocking filled the entryway.

"Are you sure you don't want us to walk you home, Kurokocchi?" Kise asked as the four friends left the Italian restaurant.

Tetsuna shook her lead. "It's only a few blocks away from here, and your hotel is in the opposite direction. If it makes you feel any better, I can take a cab." Even as she spoke, she hailed one down.

Momoi hugged the other girl tightly. "Bye, Tetsu-chan! Be careful on your way home!"

"I will," Tetsuna replied, hugging her back. "You shouldn't worry about me so much. Walking with Sherlock has made me aware of the war in London. I know how to tread carefully. I'll be fine."

"See ya later, Tetsu," said Aomine clamping one of his hands down on her head.

"Okay." She finished bidding her friends goodbye and climbed into the black cab.

"Where to, luv?" the old cabbie asked, adjusting his glasses.

"Two-two-one Baker Street, please."

"It's a drugs bust."

Sherlock's already foul mood worsened as Lestrade's words were spoken. John, however, found the situation quite humorous. "Are—are you serious?" he laughed. "Sherlock, a junkie? I'm pretty sure you could search the flat all night and not find anything you could call recreational."

A pained look crossed Sherlock's face and he hissed, "John, I suggest you shut up now."

John did a double take. "Really? You?"

"Oh, shut up!" he snarled. He turned back to Lestrade and roared, "I'm clean!"

A cocky smirk fixed itself on Lestrade's face as his force searched. "But is your flat?"

"I can't believe you organized a fake drugs bust to break into my flat!"

"It stops being fake if we find something."

"For God's sake, I don't even smoke!" Sherlock growled, unbuttoning and rolling up his right sleeve to display his three nicotine patches."

"Neither do I," said Lestrade, rolling his sleeve up to show his own patch. "So let's work together to catch this sick bastard."

Sherlock's mobile beeped in his pocket. Snarling, he pulled it out and read the message.

Killer has me. Track J. Wilson's phone.—TK

All semblance of anger fled Sherlock, replaced by sheer terror. "He.." he choked, almost too quiet to be audible. "He has Tetsuna."