Wonder John did. It suddenly struck him that his parents had careers and raised Sherlock and Mycroft. He wanted to congratulate them on job well done since he was sure they got into some troubles during their childhood. Hell, Sherlock was still getting into trouble. He wanted to know what they did in their spare time and how they liked their tea. It was all very important things that shaped people and he wanted to know everything. Maybe they would even tell him stories about the brothers growing up. That would be well fun.

Sitting down in his usual chair, John didn't even need to look at the menu to know what he wanted. It would be the cod for him with a side salad. He was trying to watch his figure though he wouldn't admit that to anyone. Sherlock picking up the menu was surprising, "Eating?" He hoped so. As a doctor, how little his flatmate ate bothered him.

"If something strikes my fancy," he turned through the menu, eyes staying firmly on the text. The waiter returned with the wine and, once it was corked and poured, leaned to whisper in Sherlock's ear about...his package. Sherlock nodded at him and waved him away.

He'd be receiving it after their meal.

That knowledge had him shutting his menu and set it aside, looking up at John. "Order for me," he laced his fingers and set them on top of the table. He ate so little here he had no preference, and John ate regularly. And fussed about his food. He might as well order it, settle his stressing or worrying or fretting or nagging whatever it is John would call it. Granted, it wasn't too far-fetched to guess that Sherlock was genuinely curious what John imagined he would enjoy.

John rolled his eyes at that, preparing to share the cod with Sherlock or buy fruit for him on the way home. Perhaps more lemons. When the waiter returned to whisper something to Sherlock, he found it odd. It wasn't the norm for anyone to speak to them at Angelo's outside of ordering. He raised an eyebrow in question before blinking a few times at the question. Processing...

Oh, alright. He could do that. Glancing at the menu, John figured he would get something small but filling for Sherlock. Something he would hopefully eat all of but then a dish caught his eye. It seemed fancy, one of the pricer ones on the menu and he hoped that Sherlock was a fan of seafood like John was. "Lobster risotto?" If anything, he would take it back to the flat and hope they could both share it later if he could get him to eat any of it.

Sherlock only lifted a brow at John's questioning look about the waiter. John had no need to know what Angelo was gifting him with, and Sherlock wasn't going to tell him. Not if he could help it. Nothing dangerous, of course. But necessary for...an experiment. Well, two.

While John stared at the menu, Sherlock...stared at John. One of his 'hobbies', so many people seemed to tell him. Sherlock didn't have hobbies, but explaining that to them had gotten tiresome and Sherlock so hated to repeat himself. John had lovely eye lashes, long and pale blond, almost platinum. Lighter than his eyebrows, even his hair. They almost disappeared against the tan of his cheeks.

Sherlock wanted to brush his thumb over them.

And other things.

Go away, He glanced sideways at the leering spectre of a woman in his mind. Irene just grinned at him and waved him off, wandering away and further into the depths of his Palace to hide.

John's voice drew his attention again and he looked back at his table mate, tilting his head. He shouldn't have been surprised, and he wouldn't admit to being so. Sherlock enjoyed shellfish, John would have seen this likely before. Heard it from Mycroft. Or Anthea, even. Maybe Molly. Regardless, many venues. John had a tendency to want to force food into him, but was wary of how much. Grains were filling in small quantities.

Obvious conclusion, and John was quite clever, really.

"I'll have that," Sherlock said plainly and glanced up at the waiter, who seemed to have materialized at John's mentioning of a food item. The young man wrote it down and looked expectantly at John for his order.