𝕱𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖉 𝕷𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙 {𝕾𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖔𝖈𝖐 𝕳𝖔𝖑𝖒𝖊𝖘}

A Study in Pink X

Stakeout

As they sat in the restaurant, Sherlock had already put down his menu and was watching the street like a hawk, his eyes constantly darting to the window. Ivy glanced at her own menu but didn't seem particularly invested in it. She leaned back, observing Sherlock in her usual amused way.

"You may as well eat," Sherlock said, turning his head slightly toward Ivy and John. "We might have a long wait."

Ivy smirked, leaning forward as she agreed, "For once, you're right. Might as well enjoy the perks of this little stakeout."

Sherlock gave a quick, nonchalant nod before turning back to the window. Angelo returned shortly after with a small glass bowl containing a lit tea-light, setting it on the table between them.

John, clearly a bit tetchy, muttered sarcastically, "Thanks(!)"

Ivy couldn't help herself, flashing a grin at John. "Well, isn't this cozy? I guess this is the prequel to that threesome Sherlock's always avoiding."

John shot her a look of pure exasperation, but before he could respond, Ivy's laughter filled the space between them. Sherlock, meanwhile, stayed locked in his own world, still focused on the street.

Later, as plates of food were placed in front of John and Ivy, Sherlock continued to drum his fingers rhythmically on the table. His gaze was fixed out the window, as though he couldn't care less about the conversation happening around him.

"People don't have arch-enemies," John mused aloud, breaking the silence as he ate.

Sherlock didn't look away from the window, clearly not paying full attention. "I'm sorry?"

"In real life," John clarified, stabbing his fork into his food. "There are no arch-enemies in real life. Doesn't happen."

Ivy, swallowing her food, leaned back in her chair and quipped, "Maybe it's just because Sherlock wants to feel special. Nothing like having a nemesis to validate all your ego trips."

Sherlock's disinterested tone didn't change as he finally glanced at her, "Doesn't it? Sounds a bit dull."

John pressed on, "So who did I meet?"

"What do real people have, then, in their 'real lives'?" Sherlock asked, still looking out the window.

John shrugged, "Friends; people they know; people they like; people they don't like ... Girlfriends, boyfriends ..."

Sherlock scoffed, his eyes still scanning the streets. "Yes, well, as I was saying – dull."

John leaned forward, curiosity piqued. "You don't have a girlfriend, then?"

Before Sherlock could answer, Ivy jumped in with a sly grin. "Sherlock's far too edgy for that, aren't you?"

Sherlock, still watching the street, deadpanned, "Girlfriend? No, not really my area."

"Mm," John muttered, before the implications hit him. "Oh, right. D'you have a boyfriend?"

Sherlock snapped his head around sharply at that, his piercing gaze meeting John's.

John raised his hands in surrender, "Which is fine, by the way."

"I know it's fine," Sherlock shot back, the words quick and clipped.

Ivy chuckled, leaning forward again. "You know, you never actually denied it," she teased, leaning into Sherlock's space just enough to provoke him.

Sherlock, in response, gave her a light shove on the shoulder, though his expression remained unchanged. John caught the moment and couldn't help but smile briefly.

"So you've got a boyfriend then?" John asked, trying to maintain the conversation.

"No," Sherlock replied shortly, clearly getting more impatient.

"Right. Okay. You're unattached. Like me," John muttered, awkwardly backpedaling. "Fine. Good."

John glanced over at Ivy, "What about you? Anyone in your life?"

Ivy gave a short laugh. "When I was younger, I used to date boys and steal their money. But now? Too busy with this 'whole law enforcement thing' to bother. You know how it is."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at her admission. "Charming as ever."

Ivy ignored him, pulling out a small notebook from her jacket pocket. She scribbled down a few notes as John leaned forward, curious. "What's that?"

"Brainstorming." She pointed her pen towards Sherlock. "Look, it could be someone in transport – a cab driver, maybe. Someone who moves around unnoticed. Or maybe it's one of those charity workers. Hell, it could even be someone posing as emergency services. Think about it, someone with that kind of access could easily abduct people without raising suspicion."

She looked back at John and Sherlock, explaining further. "Psychologically speaking, serial killers often crave validation. They need to feel powerful. Sometimes, getting caught is part of the thrill. They want recognition for what they've done – it's a narcissistic trait that borders on sociopathy."

Sherlock nodded slightly at her assessment but remained silent as Ivy finished. She leaned back, satisfied with her theory.

The quiet tension shifted again when Sherlock suddenly started speaking, his words awkward at first but rapidly picking up pace. "John, Ivy, um ... I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work, and while I'm flattered by both your interest in me, I'm really not looking for any ..."

John, flustered, quickly interrupted. "No. No, I'm not asking. No."

Ivy, always quick with her wit, leaned in toward Sherlock and muttered threateningly, "If you don't shut up, I swear, I'll smash your head against the window. Might even give you a better view of the street while I'm at it."

Sherlock shot her a smirk, unable to resist. "Violent as always, Ivy. I'm flattered."

John shook his head, trying to suppress a laugh. "I'm just saying, it's all fine."

Sherlock regarded him for a moment, then nodded curtly. "Good. Thank you."

The conversation died off as Sherlock's attention snapped back to the street. His expression became sharper, more focused, and then he nodded toward the window. "Look across the street. Taxi."

John twisted in his seat, looking out the window. A taxi had parked across the street, but no one was getting in or out.

"Stopped," Sherlock murmured. "Nobody getting in, and nobody getting out."

Ivy raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a smug smile. "So maybe my theory wasn't too far off, huh?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, not giving her the satisfaction of an acknowledgment. "Oh, that's clever. Is it clever? Why is it clever?"

John leaned closer to the window. "That's him?"

Ivy narrowed her eyes, staring intently at the cab. "I'd bet on it," she muttered, her voice low.

"Don't stare," Sherlock snapped, his voice sharp.

"You're staring," John pointed out, glancing back at Sherlock.

"We can't all stare," Sherlock replied, his eyes fixed on the cab.

Ivy leaned back with a snarky grin. "Well, Sherlock, if you'd learn to share, maybe we wouldn't have this problem."

Sherlock shot her a sidelong glance but didn't bother to respond. All his focus was now on the scene outside, and whatever move the killer would make next.