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It was past 6pm. Why wasn't Sherlock home yet? More importantly, where was he?
John frowned as he looked away from the clock once again. His gaze met the dining table, which was laid out with the best china and silver, garnished with unlit candles. Unlit, for fear of them burning out completely by the time Sherlock cared enough to arrive home.
"Dinner is more or less at six. He knows that. Why, then, does he insist on being late? Every time, every bloody time..." he continued to ramble as he lifted one of the silver cloches, to check if the food was still hot. Steam erupted from the sides of the dish, which indicated that it was indeed still of an enjoyable temperature.
"I don't know why I even bother. Why do I actually faff around trying to do something nice for that man, when all he ever does is just be a complete arse?" John straightened the cutlery around Sherlock's plate.
"One night, that's all I want, just one fucking night so I can-" John stopped dead in his tracks after turning around to find a very wind-ridden Sherlock Holmes. "Oh, Sherlock...I didn't see you there..."
"Dinner in this abode is on an average of 6:15pm on a usual friday evening such as tonight, and the time is now precisely 6:14, therefore I am not late," Sherlock began, as he made haste on removing his outside clothing. "You bother because you care, plain and simply. You feel the need to bask in my presence therefore do anything it takes in an attempt to impress me, and my dear John, what you have here does seem impressive."
"Well, I-" John started, only for Sherlock to interject again.
"However I regret to inform you that I have already eaten out with a friend."
John was taken aback. "Wait, what?! What friend?!"
" Ahh, that is information that, as much as your mind aches to know, I shall not be sharing with you." Sherlock replied with a smirk.
John's face dropped faster than a small child's after dropping their ice cream on a hot day.
"Please," Sherlock held up a hand to John. "Respect my privacy John."
"I wasn't actually going to say anythi-"
"John, I asked politely."
"Yes, I know, which I why I didn-"
"John."
"For god's sake, I wasn't going t-"
"Do I smell pork?"
"DAMMIT SHERLOCK!"
Sherlock sniffed the air once, before turning to retire to his room. "Extra points for trying John."
The door slammed shut and John sighed.
How dare Sherlock go out without inviting John! How dare he! How dare he have other friends!
John was hurt. John was seriously hurt.
THE NERVE OF THAT MAN.
Suddenly Sherlock's door opened, and the detective's smooth voice called out "You will get your 'one night' sometime John, by the way. Just not tonight." The door clicked shut.
John sighed, confused. What the Hell just happened? Did Sherlock just-
No, he didn't did he?
"Pork roast will do fine for lunch tomorrow I think." John nodded to himself. "Bloody Sherlock."