Holmes looks up when Watson and Miss Morstan enter. Lestrade is late, but he'd expected that; besides, he's fairly certain he can see a cab that would contain Lestrade approaching now. He isn't precisely overjoyed to see Watson and Miss Morstan together; frankly it still reminds him of the life Watson could be having, might've been having, and he isn't sure how it make him feel, still.
"Surprises are more my line of work," he says with a graceful inclination of his head as he stands smoothly from his seat. "Good evening, Miss Morstan. It's a pleasure to see you again." Particularly when he's about to pawn her off onto someone who would probably be a good match for her, granted, but it would also remove her from Watson's side.
Lestrade's step on the stair is not an unwelcome sound just then. He's ready for this show to begin.
When Lestrade gets the telegram, right in the middle of his lunch thank you very much, he curses over his tea. Blast Sherlock Holmes, he thinks, staring down at the short, terse, demanding little message
( ... )
"Inspector," Holmes greets with an air of nonchalance even though he's excited that this whole affair is beginning. He struggles not to let that show through. He shouldn't be excited about what's bound to be a terribly awkward evening.
"Prompt as ever. I'm afraid, as you see, that I'm a bit preoccupied with dinner plans. Our appointment will have to wait." Before Lestrade can say what Holmes can see he's struggling very hard to keep from saying in front of their feminine company, Holmes gestures to Watson and Miss Morstan and lifts his eyebrows. "Perhaps instead you could accompany us to dinner."
It's on the tip of Lestrade's tongue to chew Holmes out. He invited Lestrade here with no explanation -- no, he summoned Lestrade here more than anything, and Lestrade came without having a single clue as to what Holmes might need or want of him, because he's just a good damned person. He keeps all that to himself, though, for the lady's sake
( ... )
"Splendid," Watson enthused, and he meant it. Lestrade's compliance was the great unknown in this entire mad plan, aside from whether the pair of them might hit it off at all, but one thing at a time. "I can't think of a better way to spend an evening that in the company of good friends."
He turned his smile in Holmes's direction, and there was a fragment of hope in his expression. "Shall we go to dinner at once, or shall we loiter over drinks first?"
Mary had no idea what this was about. Ideally, her evening would have been spent with Dr. Watson alone, and culminated in some sort of concrete development of a relationship. To have Holmes along was not ideal, but she liked him well enough, and she couldn't complain too much. But now a fourth? It was all a little much
( ... )
Comments 43
"Surprises are more my line of work," he says with a graceful inclination of his head as he stands smoothly from his seat. "Good evening, Miss Morstan. It's a pleasure to see you again." Particularly when he's about to pawn her off onto someone who would probably be a good match for her, granted, but it would also remove her from Watson's side.
Lestrade's step on the stair is not an unwelcome sound just then. He's ready for this show to begin.
When Lestrade gets the telegram, right in the middle of his lunch thank you very much, he curses over his tea. Blast Sherlock Holmes, he thinks, staring down at the short, terse, demanding little message ( ... )
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"Prompt as ever. I'm afraid, as you see, that I'm a bit preoccupied with dinner plans. Our appointment will have to wait." Before Lestrade can say what Holmes can see he's struggling very hard to keep from saying in front of their feminine company, Holmes gestures to Watson and Miss Morstan and lifts his eyebrows. "Perhaps instead you could accompany us to dinner."
It's on the tip of Lestrade's tongue to chew Holmes out. He invited Lestrade here with no explanation -- no, he summoned Lestrade here more than anything, and Lestrade came without having a single clue as to what Holmes might need or want of him, because he's just a good damned person. He keeps all that to himself, though, for the lady's sake ( ... )
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He turned his smile in Holmes's direction, and there was a fragment of hope in his expression. "Shall we go to dinner at once, or shall we loiter over drinks first?"
Mary had no idea what this was about. Ideally, her evening would have been spent with Dr. Watson alone, and culminated in some sort of concrete development of a relationship. To have Holmes along was not ideal, but she liked him well enough, and she couldn't complain too much. But now a fourth? It was all a little much ( ... )
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