"Sherlock finished with a flourish. "All done." He took a moment to admire his work. A dragon on this man's forearm. There was a meaning behind it. The man had tried to tell him, but honestly, Sherlock didn't care. He didn't want to hear the sob story, the inspiring tale, a meaning, anything. Besides, it was fun to deduce it while he was giving it. His favorites, however, was when the drunk people showed up telling him to surprise them. They were always shocked the next day when they called him thanking him for the tattoo that captured their essence perfectly. He would always lie and say that they chose it that night, just didn't remember. He wouldn't be seen as someone who cared.
"He stole a glance at Molly Hooper. She was talking on the phone, grinning about something, sipping a coffee. She was beautiful. He would like to meet her one day.
"Sherlock!" A voice called out. He turned around to see his friend walk in with Mary."Hello John, Mary," he paused, "It took you long enough."
"Oh come on. We're five minutes late. You're never on time," John replied, punching Sherlock's arm in the way male friends do.
"Mary grew bored sitting there. She liked Sherlock a lot, and they were going to go out to dinner, but she hated the tattoo parlor. There was something about it. It was a wreck, a little bit eccentric. She had always looked across to the florist's, thinking that sitting there with a coffee would be a million times better.
"I'm going to go over and get a coffee. You boys take your time, there's no rush for dinner. It's not like we even have a reservation." Skipping listening to their reply, Mary walked the few feet over. She walked in to see the woman who worked there packing up shop.
"Hello!" She greeted, waving cheerfully.
"I am sorry, I didn't look at your hours," Mary started backing out.
"No, stay, please."
Mary walked back in. It smelled wonderful in here, floral, but somehow not overpowering. She looked at the laminated half sheet of paper listing the menu. It had just a few drinks, two sandwiches, and two dessert options. She surveyed the woman, probably Hooper. She was a petite woman with brown hair. She was wearing bright blue pants with a button down polka dotted purple shirt. Over it was a colorful apron reading "Hooper's Flowers and Cafe." Her hair was up in Heidi braids. Overall, she was bright and cheerful, wiping down the counter.
"Can I just get a coffee?" She finally asked.
"Of course," Molly disappeared for a moment, returning with a coffee. "Just pay here. Might I ask what urged for you to come in here at seven thirty in the evening?"
Mary laughed, handing over the carefully counted exact change. "Oh, my husband's best friend over there owns the shop next door. We go out to dinner weekly with him, but it looked like we would be there for a long time, so I thought I would walk over here." Molly nodded. "I have noticed that he closes the shop for a few hours on Monday evenings. Well, I'm glad you walked over here." "Me too." Mary talked with Molly for quite a while. She found out about her cat, her love for flowers. She figured out how smart she was. She had been going to med school, was going to become a pediatrician, but couldn't get her feet off the ground after graduation. Or, rather, she was kicked out when she reached too big a financial deficit. Mary couldn't help but think of Sherlock who went to a prestigious school, but ended up starting a small business. Mary, in turn, talked about Sherlock, John, her marriage. Mary left almost an hour later, the mediocre coffee left abandoned in favor of a new friend.