Sherlock - The Game Is On!

The Empty Hearse- Three

Chapter Three

Third POV

The Landmark Hotel, Marylebone Road - Evening

Sherlock approaches the door to the restaurant, handing his Belstaff to a member of staff. Waiters open the doors for him and he walks in. The maître d' steps forward. "Sir, may I help you?" Sherlock spares a glance to him, going in deduction mode. EXPECTANT FATHER. The gentleman's phone trills from a text alert. "Your wife just texted you. Possibly her contractions have started." Fishing out his phone, he looks at the screen with eyes wide and hurries away. Sherlock smiles smugly to himself.

Nearby, John sits alone at a table, checking the inside pocket of his jacket before taking a drink from a glass. Sherlock looks across the room at him, then hesitates. A waitress picks up some menus from the bar and walks across in front of him. Sherlock's attention is drawn to the bowtie she's wearing as part of her uniform. He looks to a nearby table where a couple are sitting. There is a glass of red wine and a glass of water to the man's left.

The man has his back to the door but Sherlock can see him reflected in the water glass. As John picks up the wine list and starts looking at it, Sherlock smiles to himself again and walks over to the side of the other couple's table where he picks up the glass of water and pours it down the man's front. The man, wearing a white shirt, black jacket and a bowtie recoils and cries out in shock. "Sorry! I'm so, so sorry!" The man lifts his napkin from his lap and starts scrubbing himself with it. Sherlock steps behind him, pulling the napkin higher up the man's chest. "Please, let me just go to the kitchen and, er, dry that off for you."

One smooth tug later, he pulls off the man's bowtie and walks away. Continuing through the restaurant, he ties the bowtie around himself. Seeing another person sat by a table, he takes his glasses of and places them on the table. "Finished with that, sir? Allow me to take it for you." Not really paying attention the person waves him away. Picking up the menu and glasses he walks to yet another table.

Seeing a woman's small handbag is open Sherlock notices there is an eyeliner pencil glinting in the top of her bag. He steps close behind her, offering her the menu he's holding with his right hand while simultaneously taking the menu she is holding with his left hand. "Madam, can I suggest you look at this menu? It's, er, completely identical." Automatically taking the menu directed to her, he grabs the eyeliner and steps away. Lifting the eyeliner towards his face, he draws a moustache.

Striding over to John's table, he stands to his left addressing him in a french accent. "Can I 'elp you with anything, sir?"

"Hi, yeah. I'm looking for a bottle of champagne, a good one." Sherlock leans closer. "Well, these are all excellent vintages."

"Er, it's not really my area. What do you suggest?" Sherlock's accent becomes thicker. "Well, you cannot possibly go wrong, but, erm, if you'd like my personal recommendation..." John hums. "This last one on the list is a favourite of mine." John nods, still not participating in looking up. "It is, you might, in fact, say like a face from ze past." Taking the borrowed glasses of he waits for John to expectantly look over. "Great. I'll have that one, please."

"It is familiar, but, er, with the quality of surprise!" He almost hints back to his own voice. "Well, er, surprise me."

"Certainly endeavouring to, sir." Sherlock replied tetchily. Walking away, John reaches into his inside jacket pocket and pulls out a small red crushed velvet box. Opening it, he looks at the diamond ring inside. Closing the box with the snap of the lid, he places it on the table before numbly fidgeting with it for perfection. He blows out a nervous breath as his dinner date, Mary Morstan, rejoins him, patting his shoulder before walking round to her own seat. "Sorry that took so long." John swiftly grabs the small box and pockets it once more. "You okay?"