Holmes glanced up from the book he was currently absorbed in. Whatever holidays and romances went on around him, Holmes clearly paid them little mind beyond what his usual observant nature took in. There was still work to be done regardless.
He checked the other tables before he gave the man a once over. He was unusually garbed for someone in England, standing out in his obviously east Asian attire, though his English was faintly accented but flawless. Either he’s lived in more western regions for some time, or his services frequently put him in the position to deal with English speaking people.
After a moment’s contemplation Holmes silently rearranged his things, leaving a small space on the table.
He was grateful when the man allowed him to share his space. It would have been easy for him to say no, easier still to lie and say he was waiting on someone to join him even if he wasn’t. Not that Wong would have taken offense if he had. The man wasn’t obligated to share his space, after all. It was just nice of him to do.
The man clearly noticed his attire, but Wong was quite used to that from his time spent in America. If anything, he seemed to stand out worse there. Sometimes he considered changing his wardrobe to fit in better, but that would be an awful lot of effort for something so unimportant. Who had time to worry about the latest fashion trends these days?
“Ah, thank you, I appreciate it.” Wong smiles and sits down, setting his tea on the table along with two medium sizes books. One is clearly very old, the front of which is marked by the symbols of a long dead language. The other is a moleskin journal from their era, with the same markings from the book carved on the front cover. Wong recreated those marking himself and has spent weeks painstakingly translating every word into the accompanying journal.
“My name is Wong... might I ask your name?”