260 words on the pub scene I had hoped to finish last night. It's not quite done yet. There needs to be revelations.
***
The throng at the bar was thinning. Most were outside again, laughter a little louder, balance less steady. John reached across the table and poured half of Sherlock’s bitter into his glass. When he set it down again, Sherlock was at the bar, just behind the man who had been there when they first came in. John wondered if he was dating the barman.
Sherlock popped a few peanuts in his mouth as he sauntered towards the table and sat down. “They play poker together,” he said, leaning across the table to give John the rest of the packet.
“I see,” John said, but he did not see, except that Sherlock had understood what he was thinking from across the room. John pictured the most lascivious thing he could imagine and stared straight at Sherlock.
Sherlock didn’t look away. “We could skip the kebab,” he said.
“I’ll pass out if I don’t eat some actual food soon,” John replied, thinking that that manoeuvre had back-fired.
“We’ll get it to go,” Sherlock said, standing. “But keep that position in mind.”
John finished his ale and wondered how Sherlock could possibly know that.
Sherlock winked at John from the open door before he swirled out. John banged his glass down and followed.
no subject
***
The throng at the bar was thinning. Most were outside again, laughter a little louder, balance less steady. John reached across the table and poured half of Sherlock’s bitter into his glass. When he set it down again, Sherlock was at the bar, just behind the man who had been there when they first came in. John wondered if he was dating the barman.
Sherlock popped a few peanuts in his mouth as he sauntered towards the table and sat down. “They play poker together,” he said, leaning across the table to give John the rest of the packet.
“I see,” John said, but he did not see, except that Sherlock had understood what he was thinking from across the room. John pictured the most lascivious thing he could imagine and stared straight at Sherlock.
Sherlock didn’t look away. “We could skip the kebab,” he said.
“I’ll pass out if I don’t eat some actual food soon,” John replied, thinking that that manoeuvre had back-fired.
“We’ll get it to go,” Sherlock said, standing. “But keep that position in mind.”
John finished his ale and wondered how Sherlock could possibly know that.
Sherlock winked at John from the open door before he swirled out. John banged his glass down and followed.