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Summary
“How did you end up here?” Sherlock asks and the man meets his eyes again, his expression seems surprised for a moment but then turns into a look of brief contemplation.
“I came for a coffee.” Oh. Coffee. “And a change of scenery and then this-” He gestures around him. “-started happening around me.” He shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee and then grimaces and sets it back down. “Gone cold.” He comments. Sherlock smiles lightly.
“Afghanistan or Iraq?”
The man, then, does a barely perceivable double take and narrows his eyes to slits. His posture changes, and the slight tilt of his head seems almost dangerous, despite his still face showing no sign of anger. “Hang on what?”
The timer goes off and Sherlock’s eyes dart around the room quickly. He has to at least find a lead, despite wanting nothing more than to continue talking to the interesting military veteran in front of him. “No no, you don’t get to just leave after that!” The man says, clearly flustered and confused and on edge. Sherlock stands, and with a sweep of his Belstaff, moves on to the next table.