The next day, John determined he would somehow find the couple that he had overheard last night, for the sooner the case was solved the sooner Sherlock would be by his side again. John looked around him in frustration wondering if any of the passing crewmembers were Sherlock; however they had both agreed that Sherlock wouldn't contact John on the ship unless it was an emergency. If such an occasion arose, John would order a Brandy Alexander Cocktail from room service with extra nutmeg. It was tempting to wheel back to their cabin immediately and order said drink; however Sherlock would be quite cross.
"Maybe, he would punish me," John thought as he let his imagination run wild.
"Doctor Watson, is that you?" A clipped posh man's accent asked.
John whirled around with dread for the last thing he wanted to do was to see someone from his past especially the snub nosed man that stood in from of him.
"I say, it is you Watson, old boy, how are you?" Without waiting for an answer he carried on, "I say, I heard about your accident, bloody awful business that but on the upside I heard you got married to Sherlock Holmes, so I supposed congratulations are in order. I must say it came as a surprise you marrying, a man that is, for I hadn't the foggiest notion that you were gay."
John wheeled his chair in front of the man and said, "I'm not gay."
The man frowned, "But the marriage and all what was it for, then?"
John knew it was a wicked thing to say but he said it none the less, "Whatever do you mean?"
The man obviously flustered stammered, "Well, I mean you know…"
John smiled, "Aw, you mean sex, right?"
The man was horrified at the hornet's nest he had unearthed as he desperately looked around him for an escape route.
John blocked his exit, enjoying the man's dilemma, "As I recall your name is Teddy, correct?"
Teddy relieved that the conversation might be heading towards safer waters he nodded enthusiastically, "Yes, Yes quite right."
"Well," John said smoothly, "Teddy, I don't consider myself gay and neither does Sherlock, you see we fell in love with each other as individuals, nothing about the two of us was gender inspired; however the sex is marvelous, fireworks every time, if you know what I mean. Teddy, old boy I highly recommend it."
Teddy was blushing furiously as he avoided John's gaze, "I say I didn't mean to offend Watson, old boy. Let me make it up to you. Why don't you join us at the Captain's table, you know the "A" list?"
John knew all right, he knew all about the "A" list and their frantic attempts to stay on top; however if he were going to find out about the couple that he had overheard the night before, the Captain's table would be the place to garner information.
Later on that evening, John slipped on his white, dinner jacket, trying to ignore the memory of Sherlock watching him in admiration the last time he had worn it. "Come, on Watson, time to do battle," John said aloud as he wheeled himself out of the cabin and down to the dining room.
The Captain's table was as boring as John thought it was going to be for it was a bid to see who or whom could come up with the best vacation home, the best car, the best prep schools for their children, and of course when all else failed patronizing the staff was great fun. Nothing overtly rude was said; however with a curl of a lip and a 'Please, bring me another brandy,' the speaker made it clear that the worker was just a cog in the wheel of society and nothing more. To fit in John badgered the staff about the food, lamented over the lack of choice on the wine menu, asking for expensive old vintages that were out of the cruise line's reach.
Sherlock inspected the kitchen and the staff, once he was satisfied; he was just about to leave when a young waiter came into the kitchen and slammed his serving tray down on the counter.
"I swear if that condescending prick, says one more derogatory thing," The waiter trailed off when he saw Sherlock.
Sherlock frowned, "Hmm, the Captain's table can be quite trying, so why don't you take a break? Oh, and by the way, who is the condescending prick?"
The waiter sighed as he grabbed a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket. "John Frigging Watson, oh excuse me. Doctor John Frigging Watson." He said in a perfect imitation of John's posh voice.
Sherlock frowned; for this type of behavior wasn't like John at all. "What are you up to, John?" Sherlock thought uneasily.