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“Oh, for god’s sake, this is nonsense !” Sherlock says for the nth time. John has stopped counting. Instead (he’s getting pretty good at this) he ignores Sherlock and continues to interview the old lady.
John clears his throat. “Ma’am Brenda, with all due respect, we’re really not interested in buying whatever it is you are offering us. We’re really just here for some questions about the murde—”
“No! No murder! Just future!” The old lady, Brenda , a fortune teller, insists. She waves her hands in front of John as if she’s performing a magic spell on him. “Strong man like you! I see a good future!”
John chuckles, almost giving in. Almost. “Brenda, please—”
“Curious for your future, are you not?” She ushers him to take a seat with enthusiastic hands. “Sit, sit! And let me tell you what great things await you!”
John shrugs inwardly, making a face. He hesitatingly makes himself sit across the anciently decorated table filled with gems and bottles, and a giant glass orb positioned right at the center. i
Sherlock rolls his eyes at his compliant friend. “John we’re wasting our time.” He mumbles impatiently. When the blogger stay silent, he huffs, annoyed. He doesn’t bother listening to what the old lady has to say so the detective turns his back on them, going outside the store to find something else to do to pass the time.
“Palm.” With an open hand, Brenda requests John to lay his right hand on hers. As soon as he does, the fortune teller starts to sandwich it between her hands and rubs it soothingly. She begins to close her eyes slowly as if she’s reading something in her head.
“John Watson, from the army. Retired now, I see, but still loves to explore, to adventure , to fight . Fortunately, you will experience those throughout your whole life.” She smiles. “Wealth? Not a problem, for you are hardworking and practical. Happiness? It will always follow you wherever or whatever place you are in life. Friendships? I see plenty of good people now and along the way.”
John smiles at this. He definitely has made one of the best friendships so far. One of them is outside the store, and John is quite sure he’s trying to pass the time by deducing strangers and judging them.
“Yes… I see a lot of good things in your future, John. Although, it seems that you lack a main factor of life.” She frowns, and John raises a brow. “Love. Romantic love. It seems to have quite bad luck with you.”
“Tell me about it.” John scoffs.
“Tell you, I will!” The fortune teller flips his hand over. “Finding the right one has not been easy for you, dear John. You’ve searched for a very long time, but worry not! You will not have to wait any longer!”
She suddenly releases John’s hand with force and gets up, leaving John startled. The old lady heads to the back of her shop. “I have just the thing for you!” She exclaimed with delight.
Brenda comes back a few moments later, carrying a small bottle with a cap that seems to also double as a dropper. She takes her place back on her seat and places the bottle on the table, presenting it to John.
The retired army-doctor tilts his head, almost like a confused puppy . “Uh, what is this?”
“A solution.” She smiles knowingly. “Quite literally .”
John stifles a soft laugh. “Yes, but to what? What is it for?”
“See for yourself.” She holds out the small bottle on her open palm, inisting John inspect it.
He slowly takes the glass bottle into his own hands, being careful not to drop it. He flips it over to check the label.
Love Potion , it said. Big, bright, outlined in pink, red-colored letters with the typical cliche hearts to symbolize its use.
“Wh— This stuff is real?” John scans the whole bottle, opening it and checking the insides. It was clear, shimmering with the color of gold. Almost like honey.
“Well, of course they’re real!” Brenda almost sounded offended. “You have one in your palm right now!”
“Yes, but…” John mumbles and ends up shrugging, hesitantly returning the bottle on top of the table.
“Keep it! It’s yours!” The fortune teller urges him. Before John can shake his head and say some excuse about money, she beats him to it. “I’ll give it to you... for free!”
The blogger stood still at that. “Wait… why? ”
“Well, I have no story to offer for your investigation, for I know nothing about murder on this street. I rarely go out— Haven’t said a word to my neighbors since I moved here. So I will give that to you instead. More useful, yes?” Brenda smiles pointedly. “Besides, I just know you’ll need it. I’m almost always right.”
“Let’s hope I'm not an exception.” John murmurs as he feels the smooth texture of the bottle under his fingers. The doctor is aware of his bad luck when it comes to love, but he knows he can make the supposed right one fall for him all by himself.
He takes a breath. “Brenda…I can’t take this—”
“John. It’s alright.” She raises a hand to stop him from talking. “I know you have someone you want to lure in. This is just to give them a hint of what you really want of them… May I say, this is a slight push. ”
John pauses for a while, thinking… imagining. “How does this work?”
The old lady grins wider. “Now, as you can see, it takes the form of a honey-like substance, almosts tastes like it too, you can disguise it as just that. A few drops can do the trick for 2-3 days at the most. I do hope the one you’re chasing for isn’t allergic to honey.”
John smiles as he stares at the bottle in his grip. “No, no, he’s… quite fond of it actually.”
“See? That’s perfect!” She giggles excitedly.
“Yes.” He nods his head at the old lady as he gets up from his seat and is readying to leave. “Then, I guess that’ll be all then, Brenda. Ta.” He thanks shortly before exiting the small shop.
“Fond of honey.” John mumbles as he scans the area until his eyes land on Sherlock, who was sat on a bench across the street, on his phone. “Honey… and bees. ”
————
“You took quite a while back at the shop.” Sherlock remarks while he strips himself from his coat and belstaff. “Did you get anything useful?” He asks while hanging his coat behind his bedroom door.
John takes this time to rip off the Love Potion logo sticker on the bottle and disguise it as a small honey bottle on the counter where all the other condiments just like it are hidden. Now, all he has to do now is hope Sherlock doesn’t suspect anything.
“No… none. Nothing useful.” The doctor comes out of the kitchen the same time Sherlock exits his bedroom. They catch eyes and stare at each other for a while. Weird. John clears his throat, heading for his laptop on the desk. “Says she has never interacted with anyone who resides on that street, not a word. She doesn’t have any idea about the murder.”
“If that was all she said to you… What took you so long?” Sherlock dives onto the sofa and shuts his eyes for a bit.
John swallows, gathering the right words. “You know how old ladies are. They tend to talk on and on about things.” He manages to say clearly without looking away from his laptop. “Took a while for her to tell me anything about the murder.”
“So what did she talk about?” The detective was quick to ask.
“Her life, I guess.” John shrugs, obviously acting but hoping Sherlock doesn’t catch that.
“You guess?”
“She talked about her sons… And where she came from, how she got here.” John’s typing noises filled the room for a few seconds. “Her life.”
“Nothing else?”
John spared Sherlock a quick glance. The tall man was already looking straight at him. “Nothing else.” John manages says firmly.
It was quiet for a while until Sherlock’s baritone hum of understanding is John’s only response and just like that, 221B is silently back to work again on their present case.
———
“Hungry?” John asks when he notices his phone clock reading 11:36pm. Then he realizes they haven’t eaten anything yet since lunch. Sherlock used to never eat while working on a case, but now that he has a doctor around, John makes sure he has something to fuel himself up.
Sherlock, who’s been rearranging his wall of pictures and red string, pauses for a bit before turning to look at John. “Could use a snack.” He says before turning away again.
This causes John to smile, Sherlock’s been improving and he’s proud about it. “Yes. Great.” The doctor gets up from his seat and enters the kitchen. With a louder voice he calls out to Sherlock, “I can fry some eggs? Uh, we have some fruits… Oh! I can prepare those croissants you really like.”
“With the honey?” Sherlock asks softly but clearly, like a child.
Honey. John slowly glances at the small bottle he purchased earlier at Brenda’s shop. “Yeah.” He smiles. “With the honey.” Oh, what a night this might be.
John proceeds to heat the croissants and coat it with a thin layer of the potion solution and the other bread with real honey for himself. Wow, it really is identical, he thinks. He makes a mental note that his pastry is on the left. Once it’s done, he takes it out to the living room immediately.
“Here we are.” John sets it on the desk after clearing away some papers and books. Sherlock takes a seat across the desk and hums contentedly. “Oh! I forgot the forks! Hold a minute…”
John rushes back to the kitchen and grabs two forks from the drawer. Once he returns, Sherlock has already had his plate in his hands, ripping out little pieces and eating them carefully.
“Use a fork, Sherlock. Did you even wash your hands?” John questions as he hands over a fork to Sherlock who’s back to standing in front of his wall of evidence.
The detective stays silent, but his eyebrows furrow like a little kid who’s being scolded by their mum. He’s so cute like that. John thinks after swallowing his first bite of the croissant, forgetting all about the plate on the left…
which is currently in Sherlock’s hands.