He rolls his shoulders, the slightest of shrugs, as he reaches for her hand. That's John Watson's influence as a decent man coming to bear, there; he's not here but one can almost hear him uttering a mildly reproachful Sherlock, almost see him raising his eyebrows in the universal expression of you know what you're supposed to do.

"It's useless to try to forestall the inevitable," he says, giving her hand the briefest shake before once more clasping both his behind his back. "I've been busy establishing myself since my arrival, but tonight, I was free."

He's seen the aftermath of whatever went on just before his arrival. As much as she'd like to hide it behind her usual impeccable dress and broadcast confidence, he has a sense it took a toll on her, too. A barrage of texts since his arrival, yes, but no appearance, no video, and no direct summons until tonight. He won't point it out but he's certain she needed to regain her composure.

"Have you called me here merely to gaze upon me?" he asks, though they both know it's not true. But there's a game, rules to follow, rituals to heed.