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The journey home was silent. Sherlock was clearly agitated by Mycroft’s warning, not that you had any idea who Mycroft was. You were dropped off at your own address and watched the black car pull away. Slowly it dawned on you that somehow you were involved in something that could turn out to be dangerous. Unable to sleep or think of any other than the case you hailed a cab and returned to the morgue, hoping to find something to distract you.

Upon entering the sterile environment you shrugged off the borrowed jacket and walked towards the slab. The same body lay there and you looked over it again, making sure that you had not missed anything. Why this man, you thought aloud, what was so special about him? The body gave you no new clues which left you frustrated. Picking up the black suit jacket you left, clicking the lights off behind you.

You pressed your nose against the jacket and sharply inhaled. It was a mix of lingering whiskey and woody cologne. All it did was reminded you of the man who tried to warn Sherlock off a case. Why? That single though stayed with you as you walked down the moonlit corridor. A hand gripped your upper arm and you span towards them. Instinctively your free hand pushed their nose up and you quickly stamped on the nearest foot.

“For heaven’s sake (Name) it’s me”

The voice alerted you to the fact your ‘attacker’ was Sherlock. Mentally you cursed yourself, you should have realised when you needed to stretch to find his face. Quickly you released each other; he started to walk away and made a gesture for you to follow. The pair of you walked in silence out of St Barts and into a small little restaurant. Quickly it became apparent that Sherlock knew the owner, the slight banter and the offer of free food confirmed this.

Sherlock did not order anything for himself but a plate of the special for you. The steaming food arrived quickly and you started to eat. After taking a few mouthfuls Sherlock picked up his fork and stole a mouthful.

"What? If you want some ask for a smaller portion" you raised an eyebrow at Sherlock then giggled.

"There's no point. You don't mind if I share. It makes you feel special" his voice dropped to a whisper as he said the last word.

Your cheeks coloured up quickly and you dropped your gaze, Sherlock's grey eyes looked at the aide of your face as he watched you. Returning your gaze to his you gently smiled, even though you barely knew each other he could read you like a book. Quickly the food was demolished; you had not even been sure what the dish had been. Sherlock wrapped his hand around yours pulling you through the still bustling London streets. Upon reaching your house he let go of your hand and started to walk away, leaving you on your doorstep. You raced after him.

“Thank you.” You stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his cheek.