A rose in London

2. Dinner

When you arrived at The Royale, you mentioned you were one of the guests under the name Watson. The host told you doctor Watson had yet to arrive, but another guest was waiting. When you neared the table you saw Sherlock Holmes sitting by himself. You would have chosen to wit outside, but it was cold and you were sure John and Mary would arrive soon. You approached the table, the hose leaving you to it.

Sherlock had seen you come in and his gaze hadn't left you once as you came over. He gave you a smile as you came closer and he stood from his seat, reaching for your hand.

"A pleasure to see you again, Miss (Y/L/N)." He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand.

"Likewise." You gave him a small smile, unsure of what else to say. He had been on your mind all day. After your meeting with him, you weren't sure how to feel. He was just so odd.

Sherlock pulled out your chair and you thanked him as you sat down, watching him take his seat once again.

"You look lovely."

You were caught off guard. Apparently Sherlock rarely ever complimented anyone. So John has said, anyway.

"Thank you. You look.. rather dashing, yourself." You smiled softly, looking over his suit jacket. At least he made an effort for John. It was clear you at this point that Sherlock was very fond of his dear friend John, making an effort because he was asked to. You would say John held Sherlock in high regard too.

"Thank you." He sounded quite happy about your compliment.

Since there was time to kill, John and Mary having yet to arrive, you thought you might dig a little deeper into Sherlock and try to learn more about him. You wanted to know what was fact and what was fiction about him.

His gaze was still on you.

"Is it true you can guess what someone does just by looking at them?" You asked cautiously. You hadn't ever seen him do it, you wanted to know.

"Yes. I can see the little details that tell me these things." He spoke lowly, treating it a like secret as he glanced around the restaurant. "That couple of there." He nodded to an older gentleman and younger woman sitting two tables over. "That's his mistress."

You looked at them. "How can you tell? Perhaps that's his wife? Or an acquaintance, or even friends!"

Sherlock gave a sly smirk. There was a sparkle in his eyes as he gazed at you.

"His left hand is bare of a ring, but you can see the ring line. He had been abroad recently, wearing the ring, with his wife. He has taken it off here because he is in the company of another. A woman who clearly satisfies him more than his dear wife does." Sherlock glanced at you.

"OK, how do you she's his mistress and not just someone he's friends with?"

"Because of the way she is rubbing his leg under the table. He's clearly enjoying it. She's all giggly and smiley, hanging onto every word he tells her. He's infatuated with her, just look at the way he's looking at her, the way he smiles back."

You stare at the two,

"Anything else?"

"They aren't holding hands. His gaze shifts to the passing staff every so often, but they have clearly eaten already. It leads me to believe he knows the staff here, but doesn't want them to get the idea that they are together. He could just go eat somewhere else, but he's flaunting his status by beginning her here. The wine bottle is expensive, he's showing off he has money." Sherlock stared at the table. "When I arrived, he spoke to the owner by name, he knows the man. He wants the lady to know he has friends in high places. She is much younger than he is, leading me to believe he doesn't get what he wants at home, but he does with this young lady. They are staying in the hotel around the corner, perhaps his wife believes he's away on business."