The Phone Number Sherlock Holmes/BehindtheCurtain

"No worries! It was entertaining." He playfully elbowed Sherlock in the arm as his eyes crinkled with laughter. "If he keeps going through dates, perhaps they'll eventually have an entire brain cell between them. Poor John Watson..."

Jim giggled the thought of Sherlock scaring off John's unpleasant suitors. He was picturing the man leaving body parts around the flat. He only had to hope that none of John's dates were into that sort of thing.

Jim was pleased when Sherlock held the door open. It was an interesting display of manners, which Sherlock rarely seemed to practice.

"Thanks, darling." Jim winked at the taller man as he walked through the door.

Sherlock blushed as he realised Jim had called him 'darling', suddenly a little worried he might think this was some kind of date. He'd already deduced that Jim was most likely gay so it was certainly a distinct possibility and Sherlock didn't quite know what to think or what to make of it.

Once inside the Chinese, Sherlock picked his favourite seat near the window, where he could watch over the London streets and see what was going on. He smiled slightly at Jim, nodding for him to follow, and the waitress brought over two menus.

Jim glanced at the menu with a bored expression. He was far more preoccupied with watching Sherlock blush. It looked good for him, pulling attention to his eyes. Jim wasn't sure if they were green or grey. Still, he found them fascinating. He nudged Sherlock's foot under the table to get his attention.

"What are you going to order? I hope you'll forgive me, but I had it in my mind that you were the sort of person who never bothered to eat. Like you live on murders and tea. It's sort of ridiculous notion really."

He looked up at Sherlock, grinning like a fool. "I bet there are idiotic tabloid articles claiming you're a vampire. So I guess my idea isn't so ridiculous in comparison."

((Sorry for such a late reply! I've had some annoying RL troubles keeping me.))

((It's quite alright. RL tends to do that. Sucks. ))


Sherlock studied the menu with a rather bored expression. "You're quite right," he smiled at Jim, glancing up. "I don't eat when I'm working and I don't particularly have a large appetite any other time."

The waitress came over to take their orders. Sherlock handed her back the menu saying, "Spring rolls and a coffee. Black, two sugars."

He waited for Jim to order then answered his next comment. "There's all sorts of rumours in the press," he mumbled, fiddling with his napkin. "Most of them utterly ridiculous."

Jim told the waitress his order, "I'd like the oolong tea, and pork dumplings please.", and turned to look apologetically at Sherlock.

"That's hardly surprising. The press is an insatiable pack of rabid, pen-wielding dogs. Not to mention their ridiculous spelling mistakes and general inaccuracy. Though I have to admit, they are good for a laugh."

The waitress returned with their drinks, and Jim took a long sip of his tea.

"I'm astonished that the wind hasn't carried you away with all the meals you've skipped. I suppose that murders are more important than inclement weather."

Jim paused to fully take Sherlock in as he talked. Despite the man's disregard towards eating, he looked to be almost healthy. Jim almost giggled at the thought of Sherlock's face as his flatmate cajoled him into eating. John Watson was probably keeping him alive.

Sherlock smiled slightly at Jim's description of the press. He was rather perceptive, for an IT guy. Obviously quite intelligent. "A laugh is about all they're good for," he agreed. "Although they can be useful for cases occasionally."

The drinks arrived and Sherlock took a sip of his coffee, staring at Jim a little awkwardly. He wasn't much good at this. Socialising. Making small talk. Most of the time he didn't have a clue what to say, what was expected of him.

He smiled at Jim's little joke. "I eat when I have to," he replied. "Enough to survive, obviously. Although you should see the sizes of some of the meals John makes. Huge. He's trying to fatten me up I think."

"Mm. I've found the press to be useful as well. On occasion, that is. And certainly not for their intended purpose." Jim smiled fondly as he remembered Jennifer Wilson lying dead on the floor. He found her to be truly... offensive. Her choice in clothing was horrible. Like a two-year old girl getting dressed in the dark. Truly, whoever thought it was a good idea to wear an outfit like that was asking to be killed.

"Now I can't stop thinking about Doctor Watson as the evil children-eating witch in a fairy tale. Your sure your house isn't made of gingerbread? That would be a bad sign"

Sherlock chuckled quite heartily at Jim's analogy comparing John to the witch. Obviously well read too, at least on children's books.

"Less of the evil perhaps," Sherlock replied with a smile. "John's um...bit of a softie really. Heart of gold. Sentimental, caring. All the things I'm not," he added, a little sad. He missed John when he was away.

"You like fairy tales then?" He asked, trying to change the subject. The last thing he wanted to do was end up talking about his feelings.

Jim carefully inspected the dumplings, and picked up the largest one. He took a bite of it, and almost choked at Sherlock's admission. Sherlock was practically effusing sentimentality and care at the mention of Watson.

He attempted to cover up his near death by responding to the question.

"Oh, yes! I find fairy tales to be fascinating. The classics of course- things like Blue Beard's wives and the Goose Girl, not the cartoon children's movie versions. They're too clean and pleasant compared to the originals. Not nearly as interesting." He continued, eyes bright, completely enthralled in the topic. "Did you know there's speculation that Hans Christian Andersen wrote The Little Mermaid as a lament to the man he loved, but could never be with? I have to say, I'm deadly curious. Do you have a favorite?"

The spring rolls were placed down in front of him and Sherlock picked one up between two fingers, taking a bite. He wasn't particularly hungry anymore, but he'd try and force something down otherwise John would be bound to have a go at him when he came back.

"Fairy tales can be pretty dark," he remarked. "Especially the traditional ones. Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf, Hansel and Gretel. All good stuff." He smiled and took a sip of his drink before attempting another bite of the spring roll.

"How long have you worked at the hospital?" Sherlock asked, trying his best to be polite.

Jim vaguely motioned with one hand, the other gripped the edge of the table. "I've been there... almost four months. It's not very interesting, honestly, but it is money." He made a displeased face and shrugged. "I hate desk jobs. It's too predictable to get up at the same time every day and know that all I have to look forward to is unplugging and plugging things back in, and checking for small animals that've taken up residence in our servers. Mice are unusually fond of servers."

He pointed to one of the spring rolls on Sherlock's plate with his chopsticks, and gave the man his best winning smile. "Can I have that, then? I'll trade you a dumpling."

Sherlock listened with as much sympathy as he could muster. He couldn't imagine how awful and dull and mindnumbing it would be to have any kind of "normal" job.

"I don't envy you," he muttered. "I'd probably go crazy. End up killing someone just so I could solve the murder." He chuckled, thinking how relieved he was not to be in Jim's position.

Sherlock glanced down at the spring rolls on his plate and gave a small shrug. "Sure, why not? I'll have a dumpling." He stabbed a fork into one of the spring rolls and popped it across the table onto Jim's plate, before stabbing a dumpling and taking one for himself.

Jim giggled at the mention of Sherlock solving a murder that he had commited. "If you were an evil villain you could have an evil lair. The Cave of Deduction!" Jim blushed at that. "Never mind. That's ridiculous. You're far too good to be evil, I think."

Jim watched Sherlock's hand cross the table with a captivated gaze. He managed to look away after he had stared for much longer than anyone with good intentions regarding Sherlock's hands should. He seemed to realize this, and he brought his eyes to his newly acquired spring roll.

He lifted it to his mouth, and took a bite. It was delicious. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Mm. I think I won the better deal in that exchange." He opened his eyes and smiled mischievously at Sherlock.

"I suppose I should thank you."

"Hm, if criminals had evil lairs they'd probably be a lot easier to catch," Sherlock remarked with a small smile. This Jim fellow did say some rather unusual things, he thought to himself.

He noticed the young man staring for a significantly long amount of time at his hand, pleased to note again that his deductions about him being gay were obviously quite correct.

"No need to thank me," Sherlock muttered, staring at the plate. "It's only a spring roll." He ate the dumpling he had exchanged, finding it neither pleasant nor unpleasant. Food was just food to Sherlock. Something to keep him alive until the next case.