122010/04/30
Epilogue
John waited in the restaurant for his guest to arrive. He thought it should be very interesting, by far more interesting than his visit to Belmarsh prison. He was still deciding whether or not to go to Yorkshire to meet Alex, Roger was entirely out of reach doing his covert reports on wine merchants in Prague, and Willie was in New York being jealous of runway models. That left two of Sherlock's previous flatmates within reach. Brock was foul and John preferred not to remember either his remarks or his leers.
"Excuse me," said a youngish man with light brown hair and green eyes. "You're Dr. John Watson, right?"
"I am," John said. "Are you Tobias Ackles?"
"Call me Toby," the other man said, settling down opposite to John. "I must say, I was surprised to hear from you. How is Sherlock?"
"Doing very well indeed," John said. "How are things with you?"
"Getting married next month," Toby said. "Was it true that Sherlock was involved in that explosion at that public pool? I've heard rumors, but they said it was gas mains, so I couldn't see how he could be connected."
John shrugged. "We were there, that's all," he said.
The waiter came up at that moment and they both gave their attention to their menus. Once he'd ordered, Toby seemed to be thinking hard for a several moments, and once the waiter had gone, he leaned across the table.
"I can see from your blog that you've experienced some . . . excitement, but perhaps you . . . I don't know how to put this." He paused, then rushed on. "This is going to sound like an odd question, but have you met a man with an umbrella?"
"I have," John said. "Several times, now." Toby's eyes widened, and John could see that he'd given the wrong impression. "He's Sherlock's brother, in actual fact. Mycroft Holmes."
"His . . . bloody hell." Tobias shook his head. "So what was it? Is he spying on his brother or –"
"It was a test," John said. "you and I weren't the only ones so honored."
"So, I take it I flunked," Tobias said slowly, looking a bit dismayed.
"Actually, no," John said. "You passed with flying colours. I was passed with reservations."
"What did you say?"
"I told him to bugger off, or words to that effect, but Mycroft thinks you're a deal more sensible than I am, and he's said you're by far the smartest of Sherlock's flatmates to date. I just thought you ought to know, if you were worried about it, that there's no crime syndicate that might have you targeted, and Sherlock isn't being spied on by some mafia don."
Tobias blinked at him. "He thinks I'm the smartest?" he repeated, and John was amused that this was the thought he'd seized on.
"Yeah, he thinks I'm a nutter for staying living there and going about with Sherlock on his cases. I daresay I am, but after Afghanistan, he's actually a bit restful."
Their food arrived, and both of them were distracted for several minutes while they got their plates and flatware situated. Just as John was about to dig into a really delectable looking pot pie, his phone chirped. He thought quite seriously about ignoring it, but he knew Sherlock would just keep bugging him, so he pulled out his phone. Need you, Cleopatra's Needle, the game is on. SH
John sighed and rose, placing his napkin neatly on the table. "Excuse me," he said.
"Patient?" Toby asked, looking concerned.
"No, our flatmate has a new case, and he needs my help, as always." He'd provided himself with an appropriate amount of cash, so he pulled that out and put it on the table. "Enjoy your meal, Toby, and congratulations on the wedding."
"But what about your food?"
"Take it home with you, if you like. Sorry, must dash." He hurried out of the restaurant and hailed a cab.
