"There are too many choices."

"That's kind of the whole idea."

"Well, it makes it impossible!"

Sherlock glared at John, then returned his stare to the display.

"How am I even supposed to know what I would like?"

John sighed.

"I don't know. Have you really never come here before?"

Sherlock glared.

John rolled his eyes.

"Right, sorry. Forgot who I was talking to."

"What are you getting?"

"Umm... the strawberry jam one."

"That's odd."

"It's good," John insisted. "You could get it."

"Mm... no."

"Fine. But hurry up. It's almost time to order."

"Well I'm not ready!"

"Two scoops of strawberry jam please, in a waffle cone," John told the cashier. She nodded and looked over to Sherlock expectantly.

"For you sir?"

He scowled at her, and much to John's bemusement, she looked unperturbed.


"I would like a tablespoon of everything. In a cup."

She gaped at him a little, before giving a nod. She scurried off.

"Really?" John asked, rolling his eyes at Sherlock yet again.

He nodded.

"6.60 please," the cashier told them a moment later, having handed John his cone. "The bowl will be just a minute," she told Sherlock.

John handed her the bill and waited for change.

"You are impossible," he told Sherlock.

"Mm... no. I exist." He accepted his bowl from the cashier and John received his change. Sherlock observed it judgmentally before deeming it acceptable. He grabbed a spoon on their way out.

"We're sitting outside," John informed him.

"Fine," Sherlock scowled.

Sherlock refused to sit in the sun, and so hovered over a couple sitting at the only table in the shade. He held off on deductions until a few minutes had passed and they still hadn't moved.

"Been together about two months I see. It won't last though," he informed them. "Your hand is on her leg," he directed towards the man, "but she's tense. She doesn't like it. I predict it will be over by the end of the week."

The man looked like he wanted to fight Sherlock, at least verbally, and perhaps physically, but the woman tugged at his arm and whispered something in his ear that John couldn't hear from where he was standing, watching the events unfold in amusement.

They both scowled at Sherlock, but indeed left. Sherlock flounced into the seat.

John watched as the couple left, and made sure they were out of sight before joining Sherlock.

"Not nice," he informed Sherlock, watching as he ate one flavour at a time, muttering about melting and mixing. Well, he could have eaten it right away instead of hovering over the couple and pestering them, he mused to himself.


John rolled his eyes.

"What you did to those people. Not. Nice."

"Oh," he said absentmindedly as he continued poking at his ice cream. John could practically hear Sherlock complaining, even though he was most definitely not. Yet at least.

"The thing is," he began, John groaning inwardly, "ice cream melts too quickly for you to get a sense of each flavour. They all... mix... together." He poked at his bowl as he said this.

"You could have asked for each flavour to be in its own bowl."

"Really?" Sherlock perked up.

"No," John told him flatly. "I was kidding."

"Oh... Too bad."

They both sat their for a minute, John licking his cone and taking a few bites, watching with great amusement as Sherlock attempted to sort flavours out and eat them one by one.

"John," Sherlock announced, standing up suddenly.

"Uh huh?"

"We are leaving. I have an experiment."

And with that, Sherlock grabbed John by the arm and hailed a cab.

"But what experiment, Sherlock?"

"Ice cream, John. Non melting ice cream."