It’s two nights before the wedding when Sherlock sees them again; the plaid button down white and blue shirt; the dark green jacket that had, of course, faded over time into a much duller color; the blue jeans with one – no, two rips near the bottom – the brown belt with the silver buckle.
Sherlock blinks, straightening as John gets to his chair and collapses into it, the man laughing about how Mary had said something funny over lunch. Sherlock’s trying to listen, but knows he’s not really, too caught up in the man’s appearance and recalling the day that forever owed him his best friend.
“Interesting choice of outfit, John.”
He waits for the man to stop laughing, waits until the unanticipated confusion wrinkles John’s features before he continues, the detective’s proud smile already fading.
“If I’m not mistaken – which I’m not, I can greatly assure you of that – but, if I am not mistaken John, that is the exact outfit you were wearing when we met.”
There’s a pause which makes Sherlock think he must have gotten it wrong – he must have, because now John is frowning and the man looks more confused than before.
“Sherlock – what –,” John laughs again, standing up from his chair with a look that can only be described, the detective thinks, as nothing short of incredulous. “Sherlock, that’s impossible. You told me that you don’t keep unnecessary information in your head.”
Sherlock watches as the man smiles and shakes his head back and forth – John, he thinks, still doesn’t believe he actually remembers, probably just assuming that he’s trying to show off again.
He says nothing, simply staring at the retreating back of the man who mumbles something about needing to go meet Mary.
You told me that you don’t keep unnecessary information in your head.
“I know,” Sherlock breathes, knowing John is, for god’s sake, already halfway down the stairs, “I don’t.”