You and Sherlock

Let's Go To Dinner

You stared down at the empty bag of blueberries and sighed. There was not a single bone in your body that wanted to go follow Sherlock out. At least, that's what you were telling yourself. But the thought of getting up and actually cooking was repugnant, so instead, you sat in the kitchen, immobile and utterly unproductive.

A moment later, your phone dinged.

Northumberland's Street. Billy's. -SH

Why?

The blueberries weren't enough.-SH

There were times when you thought you loved Sherlock -- when he made his brilliant deductions when he put people in their place, but there were other times when you could not, for the life of you, stand that arrogant detective. This was one of those times. Admittedly, it'd been a rough night for you two and your whatever-it-was relationship.

The blueberries were fine.

Come have dinner. The blueberries were not fine. -SH

He was right, of course. And you hated him very much in that moment for being right. Nevertheless, you found yourself slipping on sensible shoes and a long jacket to go over to Angelo's Restaurant. You liked Angelo, even though you knew that Sherlock only got free food because he'd proved that Angelo was innocent of murder. That being said, the food was good, and it was free. You walked into the restaurant and sat down next to Sherlock just as he said,

"Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Keep your eyes on it."

"He isn't just gonna ring the doorbell, though, is he? He'd need to be mad." John furrowed his brow and looked surreptitiously over his shoulder.

"He has killed four people," you pointed out.

"Very true, Y/N," Sherlock replied, flipping his coat collar up.

Angelo came over to the table then, wading out from the kitchen.

"Sherlock," Angelo shook Sherlock's hand. "And Y/N, too!" He offered you a hug, which you tentatively accepted. "You're looking lovely as always."

"Thanks, Angelo."

"Anything on the menu, whatever you want, free." Angelo laid a couple menus on the table. "On the house, for you and for your date."

A laugh burst from you, relishing Sherlock's utter indifference and John's indignant shock.

"They do make a lovely couple, don't they?" you jibed teasingly. Sherlock swept a hand vaguely in your direction, grazing your arm.

"Do you want to eat?"

Before you could reply, John looked at Angelo with a frustrated expression and opened his mouth to speak,

"I'm not his date."

"This man got me off a murder charge," Angelo said, happily ignoring John's denial. John stared at Angelo, still apparently with absolutely no idea who that man was. You jabbed an elbow into Sherlock's side and he straightened up, clearing his throat.

"John, this is Angelo," Sherlock paused while John and Angelo shook hands. "Three years ago I successfully proved to Lestrade at the time of a particularly vicious triple murder that Angelo was in a completely different part of town, house-breaking."

"He cleared my name."

"I cleared it a bit." Sherlock clarified cooly, looking down at the menu. "Anything happening opposite?"

"Nothing," Angelo replied, looking back at John. "But for this man, I'd have gone to prison.

You frowned in confusion. "Didn't you go to prison anyway?"