The small talk in the taxi had left all three of them relaxed and in a surprisingly pleasant mood.
They pulled up in front of a tan stone and brick building near Westminster Abbey.
"Here we are boys, Quirinale."
Neither man recognized the name, but as the stepped down into the restaurant, the were both pleasantly surprised by the posh and light interior.
The room was filled with hushed conversations and soft music, giving it a warm and airy atmosphere.
A small woman dressed in black stepped forward.
"Reservation?"
Mrs. Hudson nodded.
"Watson-Holmes please. My boys are treating me to dinner."
John fought not to gape, while Sherlock simply shifted uncomfortably, stunned by the unusual introduction.
The hostess eyed both men with a slightly surprised expression herself, though it was quickly buried under a mask of professionalism.
"Right this way."
They were seated in the corner, the table illuminated by a candle in the center and the soft streetlight filtering through the frosted glass windows.
"Would you like a wine to start with-"
The landlady shook her head.
"water will be fine for now miss."
The woman left, and it was John to make the first comment.
"Where on earth did you find this place?"
She smiled, flattening and folding her napkin over her lap.
"You aren't the only one with interesting associates Sherlock."
John glanced at Sherlock, who was desperately fighting to maintain a stoic expression.
Instead of continuing on the subject of just how many associates Mrs. Hudson had, the detective spoke on another topic.
"Watson-Holmes. Mrs. Hudson really. I thought you were more subtle than that."
The woman smiled, accepting her water and the bread sticks that the waitress brought out.
"Subtle has a time and place. It's merely a suggestion."
She smirked, opening up the menu before her.
"Holmes-Watson works too I suppose."
John chuckled, which had the woman looking up at him warmly, her eyes alight.
"Why John dear I think that that's the first time that I've heard an honest laugh out of you in months."
the former doctor's smile soften, and Sherlock couldn't help the tightening in his chest as the guilt welled up inside him.
He blinked in surprise wen John's hand found his under the table.
"I'm a lot better. Not perfect, that takes more time than I've had so far, but I'm better."
Sherlock squeezed his hand, and the landlady looked between the both of them warmly.
"Have you two gotten your orders or do you want me to grab something for all of us?"
The detective looked at his blogger, who shrugged.
"You can just order for us."
The waitress seemed to hear this.
"We three would like to start with the Orecchiette con salsiccia, cime di rapa e pecorino."
The woman nodded, collecting their menus and stepping away.
"Is sausage really the best thing for you Mrs. Hudson?"
She sighed, shaking her head at the detective.
"I've survived your fall and resurrection-which you've yet to explain to me- I don't think the extra cholesterol is going to be the death of me."
John smiled,grabbing for a bread stick at the center of the table.
"You know-"
The former doctor shewed, swallowing his mouthful.
"She could have ordered that one below it. That one had octopus."
Sherlock screwed up his noes, earning a laugh from the the two.
There were a few moment of amicable silence, before Sherlock sighed, squeezing John's hand slightly.
"Mrs. Hudson, you said that you had some question's on how I-this, all happened?"
The woman nodded, straightening her back in the chair.
"I just wanna know how? How did you pull of faking your death?"
The detective smirked, this plot no small source of pride for him.
"Well the majority of it is complicated and involves a high level of-oof."
John elbowed him harshly in the ribs.
"Layman's terms."
Sherlock huffed, put out.
"Fine. Basically? Homeless network. I had the m in place just in case I couldn't talk Moriarty around."
John held his breath, praying that there would be more information, though none seemed forthcoming.
"But the pulse! John said he checked your pulse."
"Rubber ball under the arm. Cut blood flow to my wrist enough to stop the feel of a pulse there. My assistants pulled you away, John, before You could check my carotid artery."
The wheels clicked in the former doctor's skull as the piece fell into place.
"So all of those nurses and staff-"
"Mostly homeless network, some were real, but put there under Molly's supervision."
Mrs. Hudson gasped slightly.
"Miss Hooper was in on this?"
Sherlock nodded, glancing over his shoulder nervously.
"Yes. she help me organize everything. And before you ask Lestrade did not know until he showed up at my brother's mansion and found me sprawled over the sofa."
John smiled at the thought of what a shock that must have been for the Detective Inspector.
"Is that it then? A ball, some assistance and your dead?"
Sherlock shrugged.
"A laundry truck softened my fall a bit, though that managed to smash my collarbone sprain a few muscles and scraped the hell out of my chest."
John shook his head.
"No I saw you fall, Sherlock, I watched you hit the ground."
His voice was a touch louder in pitch, as a few people turned to look at them questioningly.
The detective sighed.
"You only think you did. Remember when you were hit by that bike?"
A nod.
"Well that was enough time for me to reach the ground. Your brain filled in the images of my actual impact from the information between my descent and my 'body'."
His blogger sat still for a moment, his mouth hanging open slightly as he processed this.
The image that he replayed in his mind over and over again.
The thud he heard.
The way Sherlock's limbs had jumped.
That had been a sick fabrication of his own mind?
No wonder he was so haunted by the dreams.
They'd originated from his imagination in the first place.
" I-I gotta- ex-excuse me."
He clambered from his chair, wrenching his hand away from Sherlock before stumbling to the restroom, the edges of his vision blurring.
Sherlock moved to go after him, but Mrs. Hudson held his hand.
"Give him a second dear. Nothing you can say will help right now."
Sherlock remained seated, his eyes watching the restroom doors while he waited.