An Ancient Companion

Dinner and an Odd Girl

Bored.

- SH

John sighed. This was about the fifth text that Sherlock had sent him. He was starting to worry about the safety of the flat. Suddenly John's phone beeped again, and it was the same text.

Bored.

- SH

John decided that it was best to reply.

I'm on my way home. Please don't wreck the flat.

- JW

John picked up the pace, genuinely concerned. He had been kept at work late today, and had forgotten to tell Sherlock.  Undoubtedly there would be several bullet holes in the wall when he returned.

When he did return, however, there seemed to have been no incident. In fact, Sherlock was waiting by the door with his coat and shoes on when the door to the place was opened.

"John, we're going to dinner," said Sherlock. John was taken aback.

"What for?"

"Case," replied Sherlock almost immediately. "Now come on, I've got us a taxi." Almost as if on cue, the familiar honk of the cab was heard in front of the building.

"Excellent, it's here," smiled Sherlock. "Come on then John." And he was gone in a flash. John ran to catch up, knowing that Sherlock might just leave without him if he wasn't quick.

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"Whoever the killer is, they are very intelligent." Sherlock was talking rather enthusiastically about the latest case that had come up. Not, of course, that John was listening. In all honesty, he didn't see why Sherlock couldn't have told him this at home. Dinner at restaurants did cost money, after all. John sighed.

"Remind me again why they are so intelligent?" John was skeptical.

"Because," replied Sherlock, "they left almost no evidence at the scene of the crime. All they found was an oven glove fibre and the murder weapon: no DNA, unfortunately." Sherlock was interrupted mid-elaboration by a smiling waitress holding a menu.

"Hello there, do you want to look at the menu..." She suddenly stopped talking when she saw John and let out a gasp of surprise.

"John? John Watson?" she grinned maniacally. "I haven't seen you since the army! How are you?" As soon as the girl grinned, John recognised her immediately as his old colleague.

"Noire! I'm alright, quite busy recently. How on earth did you become a waitress? " Noire laughed.

"It's bizarre, right?" she replied. "I'm planning a career change, I've already been accepted somewhere. This is my last shift here." She looked at Sherlock, then back at John. "So," she grinned again. "Gonna introduce me to your boyfriend?" John felt a blush creeping up his face.

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Well, give it some time, eh?"

"Noire, I am not gay."

"Yeah, okay." Noire was struggling not to smile. John could tell that she was holding back laughter. "So, who is this guy anyway?" Before John could answer, Sherlock spoke for him.

"Sherlock Holmes. Consulting officer." Sherlock took in the girl. She was fairly pretty, with blue eyes and long black hair tied back in a ponytail, and she was rather tall. But there was something else, something that he saw when she wasn't smiling...

Before he could think any further, Noire grinned at him, and the odd thing that Sherlock sensed about her disappeared.

"Wow! So you're like, a master detective." Sherlock groaned internally at this. Not an accurate description at all. Suddenly, a middle-aged man was seen to be waving Noire into the kitchen.

"Got to go, sorry," said Noire. "The boss-man is calling." And with one final grin, she was gone.