Royalty

Chapter 8: You Do See, You Just Don't Observe

Where's the phone?

Ten minutes after James and I got our food, Sherlock's text comes, sounding worried and irritated at the same time.

"Sorry, sorry," I mumbled, texting Sherlock back that I had the phone.

"Oh, you're fine," James assured me. "Who is it?"

"One of my friends," I replied irritably. "Being a bit annoying lately, actually."

"Really? What's going on, then?"

"It's kind of a long story."

He smiled. "I like stories."

"I ... he's a detective of sorts. There's an ongoing case. Some loon keeps sending us puzzles with a time limit, and if we don't solve it in time, he sets off bombs. He communicates through this," I explained, brandishing the pink phone. "My friend is worrying about the fact that I took it with me. He'll get over it." James chuckled.

"Is he annoying you because he's stressed about it?"

"I don't think so. He's enjoying it, in fact. Was bored out of his mind before this case came along. He's also just ... doesn't read people well. Ends up offending basically everyone he talks to. Don't know how he hasn't lost John and I yet. But he has his moments."

I wasn't sure why I was telling him all of this. But he was nice. I liked him.

"So, did, uhm ... did your friends check on you?"

"Text from Sherlock: Quote, I do hope you're alright, unquote. Other than that, nothing," I sighed. I couldn't pretend I hadn't expected something at least from John.

James rolled his eyes. "Great friends. You have a panic attack, they go solve murders without you."

"They're just busy, that's all."

" ... Really? It sounds like they're shutting you out."

"Yeah, this happens a lot when a case is going on." I noticed his mouth tighten slightly around the corners, but he let it drop, settling to take another sip of his latte. "So what do you do? Your job, I mean."

"Oh, I work at a law firm. Honestly," he added, leaning in as if telling me a secret, "half of my job is fetching my bosses coffee."

I laughed. "You must be pretty good at making coffee, then," I quipped, gesturing to his nice jacket.

"Oh, no, this was a gift actually. But I suppose I am quite the barista." I chuckled again as he took another sip of coffee. "So do you do anything else? Other than the ..." (he waved his hand vaguely) "private detectiving? I can't imagine splitting that money three ways leaves you with much."

I frowned. "Well, I had a job. I, uh, got hit by a customer and then fired," I explained, gesturing to the still fading bruise on my cheek."

James' eyes narrowed. "Why did he hit you?"

"Oh, something about how he wanted a cheeseburger with no cheese but apparently he didn't want a burger. That, and there were six people ahead of him in line, but he kept asking, 'Do you know who I am?'."

"Wow, what a terrific asshole." I laughed, fighting to not spit out my coffee. "How did that get you fired?"

"Apparently, he's pretty rich or something. Threatened to sue. It was a fast food restaurant."

"Apparently, you have pretty bad luck."

I smiled. "Maybe it's not all bad. After all, I bumped into you," I said, tilting my head towards him in acknowledgement. He smiled, his eyes flicking briefly away, seeming almost shy.