John left to go back to Mary and see if he could find anything out of the ordinary. As Sherlock was typing, the door to his flat opened. Without even looking up, he knew who it was.

"Emma, did you really have to walk around the block so they wouldn't see you?"

She huffed and lay down on the couch. "Either that or I stay and they propose something that isn't actually happening."

Sherlock typed some more before asking another question, "Do you think they will be good observers?"

Emma laughed, "Hell no! But they'll be a big help."

After a few minutes, Emma looked over at Sherlock, and knew something was off in that big ol' brain of his.

"Sherlock, is everything alright?"

"Yes."

She got up and walked behind him, putting her hands on his shoulders. "Never lie to a fellow sociopath." She looked at the screen and became even more confused. "Why are you looking at this?"

"To see if John will be a good observer or not."

Sherlock was looking at John's blog, and it made sense as to why that was his answer to his question.

"See if he has any spelling mistakes", Emma concluded. "If he doesn't, he'll be more alert than we think."

"But, the again", Sherlock started. "It can only be an assumption because we don't know how many times he went over and edited."

Emma took her hands off his shoulders and walked into the kitchen, otherwise she would have just stood behind him awkwardly. What do we have this time?

She opened the freezer door. "First hands, now feet? Mr. Holmes, I can't keep up!" Nope, nothing was changing Sherlock's mood.

She walked back into the living room with all seriousness. "Dinner?"

"No", Sherlock mumbled while still looking at the blogs. He seemed fazed for a second, almost like he was remembering something that he didn't want to think about. No, not something. Someone.

"Come on, everyone needs to eat."

He looked up at her. "I know a place."

------------

They were sitting at a table, in front of a window. This is where he took John on their first 'adventure'.

A man came up to them. "Sherlock? I can't believe it. You're here on a date!"

"No, not a date", Sherlock stopped his excitement. "Just here to get some dinner."

"Well, then I recommend the spaghetti."

"Sure", Emma shrugged. "Why not?"

Less than half a minute later, the man came back with one plate of spaghetti and left. They both knew he wasn't going to come back.

Emma sighed. "Everyone ships us so much, he's now expecting us to Lady and the Tramp this."

"Lady and the Tramp?" Sherlock asked.

"Wow. You missed out on a lot."

After a few more prolonged seconds of silent awkwardness, Sherlock spoke. "You can eat it. I'm not even hungry anyway."

Emma looked up from the tabletop, deciding to change the topic to something Sherlock would talk about; the case. "What do you know?"

Of course, Sherlock does eat, for all of you who are wondering. Maybe not a lot, but he still has to eat. He mainly doesn't eat because he was getting somewhere on a case. Well, not that he didn't know what Lady and the Tramp was, he was declining spaghetti because he was getting somewhere on a case. The strange case.

No... that titles all rubbish... 'Murderer of the strange'. No... Thats even worse. 'Killing off the strange?' 'You're strange, you die?' Oh, you know what? John can make up a cool title for this later.

"I know that if we are going to get anywhere on this case, we shouldn't be eating at a fairly local restaurant. We should act strange."

Emma ruffled his hair, making it look weird. "I hope you don't get mad, but I sort of have a place in mind."

------------

Emma sat down beside Sherlock on a stool.

"A bar?" he whispered.

"Listen", she quietly explained. "My Uncle was weird, also an alcoholic. It sort of makes sense. Plus, it kind of is already your scene."

"Are you comparing me to your drug abusing Uncle?"

"I told you", she looked at him. "Your scene."

He huffed, and looked at the pint in front of him. He was a drug abuser, that part was right. Just mainly to street drugs. Like cocaine. A whole lot of cocaine.

"Now, everyone knows we know each other. So there is no hiding that. But this is the plan." She told him all about what was going to happen and, afterwards, looked at her watch. "He should be here in 3... 2... 1..."

A man walked into the bar. Sherlock walked into the washroom.

The man sat down beside Emma, instantly asking for a pint. Emma remembered seeing him in one of the victim's office building, but she didn't interview him.

He was 2 years older than her. Black hair. Brown eyes. Average build. Not quite as tall as Sherlock, but almost.

Emma slumped in her chair and huffed.

"Bad day?" the man asked. He was from Manchester. Fancy.

"I guess you could say that."

Emma looked at him as he was handed his pint. "A mighty drink you got there", she said.

He looked at hers and smiled. "Fit for the best. I'm Jake."

"Emma."

"Yeah, I know who you are. I see you in the newspaper." He took a sip of his beer.

"Well, about today", she started again. "It wasn't bad just... strange." She kept looking at him to see his reaction, and honestly, it was a normal one. No 'I have to kill someone over this'.

This man sitting beside her was no serial killer, no psychopath; he was just a man that was trying to live his life by working behind a counter. Nothing special, nothing important, nothing strange.

"Well, what do you expect when you're dealing with Sherlock Holmes?" he broke her thoughts. "Couldn't help but notice, I saw him walking to the washroom. I suppose that that's his glass."

Okay, he may not be important, but he definitely knows where to look.

"Sharp eyes", Emma told him. "You're right."

"Have to be aware of things. In case anyone tries to steal from my store." Emma took a sip from her beer. She didn't need to talk to him anymore.

"Back to that beer..." he looked towards Sherlock's almost untouched beer. He barely had a chance to drink it before he was sent to the washroom, not that he was expected to finish. Emma studied the beer as he said the next few sentences. "You and him have great chemistry. It would make sense that you two are--"

"Me and Sherlock?" Emma cut him off, looking up at him. "Why does everyone keep making that assumption."

The man looked at his watch. Late. His girlfriend would expect him home in a few minutes. He downed his beer and put money on the counter. "It makes sense." He stood up. "Sherlock Holmes and someone who is of equal brain capacity that doesn't challenge him, but accompanies him with great strength. Like harmonizing in a song." He turned his back and walked out of the bar, waving to her through the window.

"Sherlock?" she mumbled under her breath, still unable to believe that someone out of their circle ships them.

"Yes?" She turned around to see him, sipping his beer.