Data Doesn't Lie (Johnlock)

Chapter 17

JOHN

  Sherlock was walking in circles again, which was quite dizzying to watch. Still, I caught a glance or two of his pacing, the sunlight reflecting with every bounce of his shaggy curls. The warm yellow rays seemed to be coming in from everywhere, come to think of it. How rare a day for London, which was almost always stormy and gray. Today's sunshine lightened my mood just a tad.

  An airy voice mumbled quietly on the other line of Sherlock's mobile; Lestrade, no doubt. Something about the recent case, or so I figured. Sherlock became more excitable by the minute, spring launching into his steps and bringing him a few inches off the ground with every turn he made. 'He's a giant child,' I thought merrily to myself, not quite as minding of his quirks as I may have once been. What had once been annoying was slowly transitioning into cute.

  The detective finally pocketed his mobile, flinging himself towards the coat rack and snatching his overcoat and scarf away. "Grab a jacket, we've got to go," he exclaimed eagerly. I sighed, but ended up smiling and pulling on my own bomber jacket, following three paces or so behind him. "Can I at least know why we're leaving?" I asked him breathily. He flashed a mischievous smirk at me. "First we go to the yard to give Lestrade the file on the case." He paused, pushing his hair away from his eyes. I waited skeptically, tapping my foot with impatience as a gull bird flew overhead of the street, casting a brief shadow in the bright sun. "It was that redhead, you know," he explained dismissively, walking out into the shimmering sidewalk.

  A small gasp of disbelief escaped me. "The one we interviewed?" He nodded stiffly, craning his neck to see if a cab could be found. "No matter, actually arresting her is going to be the real problem. I'll let Lestrade handle that."

  I waited for him to say something else. He stayed agitatingly silent up until the point where he could hail a cab. "And second?" I muttered. And to my absolute dismay, he winked at me. "It's a surprise."

SHERLOCK

  I had a splendid evening planned for John and myself, due to a bit of help from Molly. By the time the two of us had left Scotland yard a pack of patrol cars was already leaving their station to make the arrest. I had to admit, it was quite a clever case. No matter, however, as that had to be tucked away to make room for our night out.

  John pestered me all the way to the cab, which had waited patiently outside for us. He was obviously curious, but I was awfully stubborn, as well. "It's a surprise," I insisted. He only huffed, crossing his arms in disappointment. Hopefully that look would be wiped off soon.

  "Back to Baker street, then," I told our cabbie cheerfully. He grumbled, and at a snails pace pulled us from the lot. I caught John practically glaring at me. "I don't know what your planning, Lock, but I have a feeling I'm not going to like it." I chuckled skeptically. Could he really be so blind?

  "I have a feeling you will," I countered airily, tossing a wink in his direction. His quizzical stare made it all the better.

  Once we arrived home, which took much longer than anticipated, I was in a rush. Dinner reservations were at seven, and by god it was already 6:15! I didn't mean to be pushy, but I had to drag my blogger from the cab and up the stairs of our flat just to get us moving half the speed we needed to go.

  "Sherlock!" he protested, "What's the rush?" I turned on my heels to face him, grinning broadly on pure instinct and leaning down to kiss him briefly. "Into your room, love," I directed. "Wash up, put on something nice. That white button-up will do, no cardigans. We're going out!"