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“What is that?”
Sherlock looked between his plate and Watson. “It’s food.”
The item on the plate was certainly not food, in Joan’s opinion. It looked more like a combination of mashed potatoes and a mango smoothie, and not in any way appealing.
“That’s not food,” she said, sliding into their usual spot besides the broad, glorious windows exposing the stars flashing by outside the starship.
Sherlock sat down opposite her, took a spoonful of his creation, and made several faces in rapid succession. Joan laughed.
“I was trying,” Sherlock began, then took a large gulp from his water and restarted, “I was trying to replicate a food that would combine most of the nutrients I need throughout the day, that way I would only need one meal and could spend the rest of my time on other pursuits.”
“I’d suggest the fish tacos,” Joan replied, smirking.