a lovely date for a murder, don't you agree

[deductivedetective]

Neither of them called it a date. Sherlock may not have been the most socially up-to-speed person, but he knew what this was; what John was asking. He humored him and agreed, not pressing the matter. It wasn't unusual for them to to be together anyway, even before this. In fact, catching them without the other was even more odd.

It wasn't too fancy, anyway. The Chinese place down the street was good, and authentic (according to Sherlock's verification), and reasonably priced for two men sharing money. The atmosphere wasn't romantic, at least. Sherlock imagined the pressure on John would be lessened if just for that reason, even if he didn't understand the big deal.

"Eating in today for once, eh, Sherlock?" the host asked with a polite smile as they entered. "Two, then?"

"Yes, thank you," Sherlock said, looking at John. "Any plans after this, by the way?"

Comments

[deductivedoctor]

John tugged off his coat before he sat, hanging it from the support of the chair. "I hadn't really thought ahead," He admitted, retrieving one of the yellow paper lunch menus from the center of the table. "It's a bit out of the way, but I suppose we could stop by the park... I would suggest a film, but I'm not sure if a cinema is the best place to bring you knowing how you talk to the telly."

[deductivedetective]

"I never could sit through those things," he said, draping his coat along an unoccupied chair at their table. "A walk may not be out of the question, though."

He perused the menu, even though he already had it memorized. It only took a second for Sherlock to decide and push it away, interlocking his hands and simply watching. Nothing particularly exciting was going on, and while that usually had him on edge, he was trying to suppress it. At least for dinner.

[deductivedoctor]

Before John could answer, the waiter had appeared again to collect their orders. John gave Sherlock priority, skimming the menu quickly while Sherlock put in an order. He ended up deciding on a chicken lo mein. After jotting down a few notes, the waiter dropped off a couple waters, and turned promptly to head back into the kitchen.

"Right," he nodded. "Walk it is, then."

[deductivedetective]

There was a brief smile, and a small pause before Sherlock spoke again.

"So," Sherlock started. "What do people usually talk about on these things?"

[deductivedoctor]

"Normally it just involves to people asking each other questions, getting to know each other better," John said. "But... Really I feel like I already know more than I want to."

[deductivedetective]

"Too much, perhaps," he agreed with a grin. Sherlock likely knew too much about John himself, with his ability to read and observe. "I guess we can skip that part."

[deductivedoctor]

"Beyond high school I've never really been able to keep a girlfriend for more than a month or two," John admitted. "I'm not too sure what's customary to talk about once two people actually get to know each other."

[deductivedetective]

"I'm sure it degenerates into dull things, like how work was, or the weather," Sherlock said, disinterested.

[deductivedoctor]

"Now that's not exactly fair," John said. "We talk about work all the time. Actually, a good majority of our conversations involve you complaining about not having it."

[deductivedetective]

"Yes, well, at least our work is interesting."

[deductivedoctor]

Before John could offer any kind of counter argument, their waiter had returned, so John just rolled his eyes. Along with lunch, the waiter had wordlessly brought along a lit candle. The same arrangement had followed them to a few restaurants previously, particularly at ones Sherlock was familiar with, but it was noticeably more awkward for John now that he couldn't deny he wasn't Sherlock's date. John just gave a disgruntled smile as a thanks. Keeping their relationship away from public eye was difficult when half of London already assumed they were an item. John began to pick out the meat in his dish once the waiter had left for the kitchen again.

"So," he said. "Are you actually going to eat something today?"

[deductivedetective]

Sherlock pulled a small soup toward him that the waiter left.

"Sort of, I suppose," he said, picking up a spoon and wiping it clean with his napkin before dipping it into the bowl. "Maybe some dim sum after this, depending."

[deductivedoctor]

"That'd be for the best, yeah. I don't think I've seen you eat anything since Monday."

[deductivedetective]

"John!"

Sherlock had jolted up, mid-sleep, in revelation. He had opened his mouth to say something, only to realize he didn't know what it was. Why did he wake up in the first place?

Oh, right. His phone had gone off. It was still in his hand.

Forwarded the schedules to you. I know that's what you wanted. We have to stop him by tomorrow. -GL

Sherlock scrolled through the attached files, a smile quickly growing on his face.

"Looks like we're having Chinese again," he said.

[deductivedoctor]

"Oh my god," John shook from his lips, covering his face with his hand momentarily as he kneaded the pads of his fingers over his eyes. Fear had jolted through him like he was a string of copper wire when Sherlock shouted his name, and he had awoken to the feeling of free-falling falling backward. Which, of course, he wasn't. The feeling passed in less than a second, and John was left tangled in his sheets with his heart beating about three times too fast.

"Shit, Sherlock," he breathed, sitting up in bed. "When are we leaving?"

[deductivedetective]

"Five minutes," he answered, jumping out of John's bed. Having not bothered to change last night, all he needed was his shoes and coat - which he quickly dashed off for. It was as though he never slept at all.

[deductivedoctor]

"Five minutes," John echoed in disbelief.

He dragged himself out of bed, quickly fishing a jumper and some jeans from his dresser. He took a brush from the bathroom too, because he doubted he'd have time to flatten out his bedhead before Sherlock jumped in cab.

Five minutes. It wasn't a minute longer before they were on route. John could tell from the mellow light of the sky that it was still morning. It was only once they were in the backseat of a cab that he bothered to check his cell phone for the time. 8:32 AM. So he'd gotten maybe 5 hours of sleep in total. That wasn't so bad, John thought. Although competitively Sherlock had gotten about 3. John wondered how he was so bright-eyed.

[deductivedetective]

For how early it was, he was very attentive to their surroundings. Sherlock watched outside the window, and as they drew closer to their destination, he seemed to be looking for something in particular.

"Here! Stop here!" he shouted to the cabbie, who was briefly alarmed before pulling over. Sherlock jumped out, tossing a bill at the driver blindly. "He's here, John! There's his truck!"

Pulled to the side of the restaurant, there was indeed a white, blocky truck. No one would think twice about it being there, and about a man carrying produce and meat inside. Brilliant. But going off the schedule was his flaw. While it might've fooled the police to go a day early, it wouldn't fool Sherlock Holmes. The man had to know they were onto him, so he jumped ahead a step. After this, Sherlock was sure his movements would become more sporadic. This was their last chance to have the upper hand.

[deductivedoctor]

As soon as the man turned a corner, he shot off sprinting like a wound-up rubber band, dropping the full-sized pork shoulder he’d had in tow onto the pavement. John tailed him, turning the corner fast enough to see the shoulder burst like a tossed grapefruit. John was flecked with a unpleasantly slimy coating of meat juice. He stalled to make a face and glare down at his now speckled Jumper. He’d at least shielded Sherlock from the spray, who was now darting ahead of him. John entered into a run again in effort to catch up.

Being in the British army worked to John’s advantage from time to time. He didn’t look it, stout-figured as he was, but John could run. He kept perfect pace behind Sherlock, tailing the deliveryman through twisting alleys and sidewalks, rounding stairs and dodging the odd pedestrian. A good mile from the truck, their chase came to a sudden halt. The man tripped. There was not tackling or take-down necessary. Their deliveryman simply tripped. He straight face-planted into the ground, arms spread out and heels in the air. He didn’t even make an effort to escape as Sherlock and John surrounded each side of him. He just crowded his arms around his head and withdrew.

“Leave me alone!” The deliveryman shouted. “It wasn’t me! I swear it!”

spoiler: the vial is actually filled with water

[deductivedetective]

Sherlock came to a halt quickly, and planted his foot firmly upon the man to make sure he didn't move. Even while he hid his face, the blood spouting from his nose was on his hands and the ground. The man probably gave himself a small concussion from the fall.

"Oh, shut up," Sherlock said. He jerked the wallet out of the man's back pocket and pulled his phone from his coat. He looked inside, then back up to the man on the ground. "So why'd you do it, Mark Gables?"

"I-I said I didn't!"

With a heavy sigh, Sherlock yanked something else out of his pocket - a vial of clear liquid. He shoved the man onto his back with his foot, placing a knee on his chest.

"I have here a sample of your poison," he said coolly, unscrewing the cap. "I wonder if you'd like to try?"

The man looked up at him with terrified eyes.

"You... you wouldn't..."

[deductivedoctor]

Writhing underneath Sherlock's knee, the deliveryman tried desperately to turn his face away from the vial.

"Please! Don't make me drink it! I wasn't in cahoots with them, I swear!" the deliveryman gasped out. "I'm just trying to run a respectable business! None of my goods are poisoned. Not today. Please, you have to believe me. I went 50-some miles out to a different supplier just to make sure."

[deductivedetective]

Sherlock frowned. It was the truth. He knew as soon as he saw his name, but he had to be sure.

Heaving himself up, Sherlock stepped away, and the man laid there for another frightened moment before slowing getting to his feet. Sherlock was texting Lestrade, his frown still set.

"I... can I go?" he asked John, wiping his nose, a little shaky.

[deductivedoctor]

"Uh, yeah," John said, helping the man to a stand. "Sorry for, um, chasing you down here and all that. Just... who exactly was it that you picked up that meat from."

"I don't know," the man practically whimpered. "I picked up the pork from one of the local butchers just outside of London. I collect from a lot more than one store... nothing seemed particularly out of place. Old Sam at the cutting board was out sick though, I remember that much. Had his son running the counter."

[deductivedetective]

The consulting detective seemed to perk up at the new details. He veered around to face the delivery man, leaning in uncomfortably close.

"Describe his son exactly as you remember him."

[deductivedoctor]

"Um," The deliveryman stepped back to allow some space between them. "He was a pretty small guy. Lanky. Short hair. Didn't look much like the butcher type. Could barely carry a rack of meat to the truck."