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There was tea. There was tea everywhere. Giant bags of it were floating around John. And he was just standing there, smiling. He decided to catch some of them, but they were slipping away. Suddenly, bags started to form into the shape of a grand phoenix. And… rivers of jam appeared. John took a spoon and dipped it in one of strawberry streams. Just when he was about to place that delicious embodiment of happiness in his mouth, he heard a sound of violin. It was getting louder and louder. John opened his eyes.
Damn it.
It was his phone. And ringtone meant for Sherlock. John reached for the device and moved it closer to his face. It was a huge mistake – lights announcing that Messiah was back punched John’s face in the face. It took him a few seconds to adjust the eyes. He looked at that small clock in the corner of the phone’s screen. It was 02:43. 02:43 AM.
Damn it.
John finally answered the phone.
“You finally answered the phone!” said Sherlock.
“What.” it was the only thing that John was able to say at 02:43. AM.
“There’s an emergency. You’re needed. Remember that small café near Angelo’s place?”
John focused. It had to do something with blue.
“Sapphire Café.” Sherlock answered his own question.
“Yeah, I remmmbr…” John muttered.
“It should take you no longer than 25 minutes. I’m waiting.” Holmes hang up.
Damn it.
John knew he had to get up. It was an emergency. Some dead body, probably covered in blood, was lying somewhere on the black surface of the street. It was an emergency.
Damn it.
* ~ ~ * ~ ~ *
John got out of the cab – he was across the street from the café. He looked around and… there were no police cars. No policemen. Not even an ambulance. He took a few steps and turned around again. He spotted waving Sherlock in the window of the café.
So maybe a robbery? Or a kidnapping?
John looked at bright, blue neon saying “Sapphire Café” and crossed the street. He opened the door and let warm air touch his face. He breathed and smelled a sweet scent of cinnamon, vanilla and chocolate. Some quiet music was playing at the back, but John didn’t have a chance to recognise the song – a young female cashier noticed him and said:
“Good evening, sir. Ho–“
Sherlock spotted John as well and started talking:
“What took you so long?! Another bloody awful cabbie? Don’t answer.” he waved his hand and continued “It is not of import. Better look at this!” he pointed at a glass display case.
“Hello!” John ignored Holmes and smiled at girl, she smiled back and finished:
“How can I help you?”
She had short blonde hair, lovely blue eyes and small, banana-shaped earrings. And she was a bit shorter than John , which was… nice.
“Thank you, I’m okay.” he said.
She nodded and went to the back of the café.
John looked at Sherlock. He was still in pointing position – Watson followed direction of his hand and looked at the display. But he didn’t know what he was looking for. There were apple pie, pumpkin pie, pudding pie, blueberry pie, cherry pie, key lime pie, pecan pie, chicken pot pie, lemon pie, Boston cream pie, banana cream pie…
“John, look harder! Left, bottom shelf…” John bended a little, so he could look closer. Sherlock continued “It’s Lithuanian “tree cake”! You said that you had eaten it once and it had been more delicious even than Mrs Hudson’s poppy seed rolls (which is impossible if you ask me) and you couldn’t found it anywhere in London, but here it is!” Holmes exclaimed and grinned.
John straighten up and looked at Sherlock, then at the cake, then at Sherlock again and then froze for a second. Holmes’s grin disappeared. He knew that he had done something wrong, but he didn’t know what.
“You’re not glad…” he said.
John just closed his eyes and started to massage his forehead. He took a deep breath, counted to ten, took another deep breath and said as calmly as he could:
“Sherlock Holmes, you woke me up at 3 am, calling and saying that there was “an emergency”. The only emergency at 3 am that I can think of is a DEAD BODY LYING ON THE STREET!”
“But you said you liked that cake…”
“You woke me up at 3 AM, so I could eat CAKE?!”
John was furious, Sherlock was… sad (?) and the girl that had just come back from the back – confused.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
Another deep breath.
“Yes, it’s… okay.” John said and looked at Sherlock, while Sherlock looked… like a lost puppy.
Damn it.
John has 3 weaknesses. Jumping over things, Harry’s roasted chicken and Sherlock’s puppy eyes.
Damn it.
“Just buy me some of this bloody cake. And a cup of coffee.”
John took the closest seat. Apart from him, stupid Sherlock and lovely cashier, there were no one around. Watson run his fingers through hair and listened. He knew the song that was played in that moment. An old tune, he used to…
Sherlock sat next to him. John looked at him and said:
“Do you at least know what you did wrong?”
“Yes… I shouldn’t have woken you up at 3 am…”
“A big piece of Lithuanian “tree cake”. And black coffee, no sugar.” the girl said and placed a small plate and a cup next to John.
“Thank you.” he answered and smiled at her again.
The cake was… foodgasmic. Even better than the previous one.
“You like it! You did that little twitch and…” Sherlock started deducing, but stopped immediately as John gave him I’m tired of you bullshit, Sherlock face.
“It’s delicious!” John said to the girl who was already behind the counter.
She smirked and answered:
“I’m glad you like it!”
“So… am I forgiven?” Sherlock asked quietly.
“It depends.”
“From what?”
“How good is the coffee.” John explained and took a sip.
Damn it.
It was good. But not just “good” good. More like “nectar of the gods” good.
Damn it.
“You are forgiven.”
John ate another bite and Sherlock just giggled.
“Anyway, what were you doing here at 3 am? And why is it open in the middle of the night?”
Sherlock smirked.
“I think it’ll be better if you don’t know.”
Watson ate the rest of his cake in confusion, wondering what the hell was happening in his life. When they were about to leave, the girl came to John, gave him a small package and said:
“One more piece. It’s on the house.”
“Thank you. And…” John was about to reveal that the ‘H’ in John H. Watson truly stood for “How you doin’?”, but he noticed something on the box he was holding – it was girl’s name and… a phone number.
“Waiting for your call!” said… Mary. Her name was Mary.