Having a bite of the more familiar crepe calms him further in her absence--and he finds himself hoping she'll like it, when she gets back from retrieving her phone.

Except then she actually locates the forgotten clutch, and he hears that quiet, dismayed exclamation. Sherlock frowns and leans back in his seat, craning his neck to see if he can catch a glimpse of her expression.

"Bollocks to what? Someone call out at the morgue?"

Abruptly he realizes his own phone is still on silent--he never turned Do Not Disturb mode off after the performance began. He stuffs a bite of the lime-and-sugar crepe in his mouth before pushing to his feet so he can grab his mobile from his coat pocket.