Prompt: Fruit salad. Feature an item of fruit: orange pip, banana skin, bowl of strawberries, whatever appeals.

"What are you doing?"

I pulled my attention from my calendar, burying my smile in a picture of innocence just strong enough to make Holmes' curiosity become wary study.

"Just checking the date."

He still studied me as if trying to deduce my trap, but a long moment slowly replied. "What does the date have to do with our conversation?"

Conversation? More like one-sided rant, but a half shrug affected a carelessness more mischievous than sincere. "Wondered if it was Opposite Day. Or Be a Nuisance Day."

Guarded hesitation abruptly morphed to a dark scowl. "I am not a nuisance."

"Oh?" I turned away, pretending to clear off part of my desk solely to hide my expression. Several books and papers returned to their places, but the half-rotten apple core Holmes had shoved in one drawer surreptitiously moved to my pocket. "Then why have you spent the last two hours using feigned irritation to keep me from working? We both know you are pleased with their efforts."

A faint harrumph met my question. "I am not irritated. I am frustrated. So many people looking should have found him by now." He hesitated, looking between me and the settee, then quietly added, "I did not realize you were trying to work."

I waved the apology away. Just because I wished he had not wasted the morning griping did not make me any less used to it. "I can finish the scene later. Maybe taking a break would help. Organize your indices. Do an experiment. Or…" I let the sentence trail away, affected uncertainty glancing at the door to cover that I had planned this the moment I stood. "You could work on a different case for a while. Want a missing person case?"

Something strangely like shocked fear flared in an otherwise emotionless gaze, but realization tempered the reaction before I could ask. Taking the relief that followed a moment later as a "yes," I limped across the room in a manner slightly more exaggerated than strictly necessary.

"You could just ask, you know." Grumbling and hiding my face would deduce either mischief or annoyance, both of which suited my plan for this round. We did not need to discuss whatever had crossed his mind first. "Then you wouldn't have to spend half the day complaining before I decide to offer."

I still could not figure out why he would not, but forcing the issue now would do neither of us any good. Silence reigned as I pocketed a book from the end table, and the slightest hesitation chose the lighter cane over the sturdy one just beside. Studied indifference pretended not to notice the keen gaze watching my every move. He blanked his expression the moment I turned around.

"Time limit?"

"Supper." That would strengthen the false trail I currently laid. We usually went until sundown. "Thirty-minute head start and no hints. And keep Mrs. Hudson out of it. She complained of a headache earlier."

And you have already spent the morning whinging. A flicker of remorse announced he heard the unspoken addition, though I ignored that as well. He needed some very strong base assumptions for this to work, and base assumptions lost their potency the minute he realized they existed.

When he made no immediate reply, I checked my watch against the mantle clock and promptly ducked through the door.

Though I took my time descending the stairs. If I wanted an afternoon to myself in an empty flat—and after three days of a pacing, irritable detective refusing to let me help, I wanted an afternoon of quiet—Holmes needed to be so completely sure of my pace that he would never expect me to do anything but flag a cab the moment I turned the corner.

Mrs. Hudson peeked down the hall when I reached the base of the stairs, smirked, and disappeared back to her rooms. I paused only long enough to dispose of that apple core before limping down the steps and to the edge of the sidewalk, in full view of the sitting room window. The buildings would provide another support in addition to my cane, but the gutter's edge meant I would not have to cross the crowd yet again to reach a cab.

Not that I actually intended to hail a cab. Five minutes' walk turned the next corner, where I skirted the press only far enough to leave a clear print beside a convenient cab track before doubling back through the middle of the sidewalk. Hundreds of pedestrians per hour easily vanished my trail well before I cut through the next alley, and two more turns approached the flat from behind. Now for the fun part.

Carefully ensuring no one nearby, I hugged the buildings to stay out of sight, ducked under Mrs. Hudson's kitchen window, and fastened my cane to my belt. With my leg not bothering me half as much as I had let on, I easily scaled my drainpipe to settle myself on the roof with about five minutes to spare.

"What the blazes—"

Or perhaps a bit less. The door below opened just after I settled, but creative invectives took the place of single-minded hunting. Apparently, Holmes did not like rotten apple cores on his head any more than I liked them in my desk. I fought to silence my laughter as he ducked back inside—probably to wipe his hands on the rag in the entry—then stalked down the street. He followed my trail around the corner a minute later.

I did not open my book, however. When he did not find me at the closest bolthole, he might think to check the roof. I had hidden here before, after all. Better to use his absence to claim a different hideaway.

And I still wanted my quiet afternoon. Once assured Holmes would not return in the next couple of minutes, I returned to my drainpipe and entered my room via the window.

After following my trail directly to a cab, he would never expect me to spend the next six hours in the silent sitting room.

Seems Watson's learning how to be sneaky. Do you think he succeeds? Don't forget to review :)