Title: Deductions
Author: Tiffany F
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Fandoms: Sherlock
Rating: AO
Disclaimer: Don't own and claim nothing but the plot.
Warning(s): None
Spoilers: Spoilers for season 1 episode 2 The Blind Banker.
Summary: Sherlock makes some deductions about John and a lot is learned in the space of a night. Oh, and Mycroft is a creepy bastard.


"You actually were going to do it."

John paused as he was sitting down and ended up folded awkwardly over his chair. He blinked a couple of times. "Sorry, do what?"

"Sleep with a woman you know absolutely nothing about," Sherlock said.

"That's the point of going on a date, you know." John dropped into his chair with a sigh. It had been a really long few days.

"Exchanging intimacies with complete strangers? I never knew that. Remarkable. How does it all work, exactly?" Sherlock hopped into his chair so his knees were almost even with his chin. "Do you both go into the situation knowing the outcome or is there some sort of coercion involved? Does the one paying for the night's entertainment expect sexual favors in return for the expenditure of money?"

John blinked a few times and then laughed. "You're unbelievable, you know that? I told you earlier, a date is when two people who like each other go out and have fun. There's no expectation of anything, it just happens, if the mood is right."

"And yet you were clearly expecting, Sarah was it, to wind up in your bed." Sherlock let his legs drop as he leaned forwards, fingers against his lips. "You were prepared for the eventuality and put several condoms in your wallet, placed for easy access, but so as not to be immediately visible when you opened your wallet to remove money or your ID."

"I never did."

Sherlock tilted his head and sighed. "I saw them when you opened your wallet at the fake circus," he said. "Thus you were at least hoping for more than an evening at the cinema and a late supper."

"Yeah, well, I'd say I got that what with being assaulted, abducted and damn near killed," John snapped.

"Tell me, did Sarah mention anything about her boyfriend?"

"What boyfriend? She doesn't have a boyfriend."

"Not a serious one, at least not in her eyes anymore. His feelings for her are considerably stronger. Up until a week ago she wore a ring on the middle finger of her left hand. She never took it off before Sunday last, so it meant something to her, but doesn't now. The boyfriend has begun to scare her and she's trying to move on with her life. I'd say he's not about to give up and will likely become violent within the next week or so. You should advise her to go to the police. Send her to Lestrade, it's just about the sort of case he can handle on his own. Also advise her how absolutely stupid she is for bringing another man into a situation that could land him in hospital, or worse."

"You're one to talk, Sherlock. This case of yours nearly got both me and Sarah killed."

"I had everything under control. What's the real problem here, John? What's really bothering you?" Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "You're going to lie to me."

"Of course I'm not going to lie to you."

"Yes you are. You shifted your weight to the left."

"What's that got to do with? Sherlock, I fell on my right side tonight and it's a touch sore, so of course I'm going to try and shift my weight to my left side. I don't even know why I'm still up. I should get to bed."

"You're still awake because you're frustrated and know that no matter what you try, you won't be able to fall asleep."

"Now what are you on about?"

"Since we met, you've made more than friendly overtures to six different women, including that monster who trails my brother like a trained dog, and Sarah is the first one you've been the least bit successful with. You had high hopes for the evening to end sexually, showing that you need that form of tension relief."

"And it really is none of your business."

"Of course it is. When I see my friend..."


Sherlock looked at John again as if picking him apart, until John shifted in his chair and looked away. "Why does it bother you so much when I refer to you as my friend?"

"Do you even know what the word means?"

"Of course I do; friend, noun: a person whom one knows and with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, typically exclusive of sexual or family relations. In modern times, it can also be used as a verb, as in to friend someone on a social network site."

"You memorized the dictionary, didn't you?"

"You mean you haven't? How do you manage crossword puzzles?"

"Slowly. Sherlock, the point is bond of mutual affection. Since we met, you've done nothing to show me you care for me."

"What is it like in your world? Have you actually looked at me?"

"Oc course I have. I'm looking at you right now."

"Oh, you see, John, you see, but you do not observe." Sherlock flung himself from his chair and started to pace. "When you look at me, you see a man who cares about nothing but crime, about picking everything apart to better understand it. You see a man who has absolutely no social graces at all, who lives only for the thrill of being proven right. A man who uses everyone around him, takes advantage of them for his own gain."

"A man who sees his own brother as his arch-enemy."

"That's not important and you wouldn't understand anyway. The point I am attempting to drive into your rather thick skull, John, is that I am friendless, save you. You chose to at least try and see who I truly am, and in you, I saw a man who might be able to understand, should he hang on long enough."

"You never wanted a flat-mate, you wanted a servant."

"I cannot stand people in my space!" Sherlock exclaimed. "The noise they make, the noise of their thoughts intruding onto mine when I'm trying to work, the constant interruptions about the weather, the dullness of the news, the stupidity of Parliament or worse, what I'm working on. I enjoy solitude and Horatio was enough of a friend to talk to when I needed to expound a hypothesis."


"The skull."

John blinked a few times. "You named the skull Horatio."

"Of course, wouldn't you? Anyway, I'd feel a right git talking to someone with no name."

"So you see me as a replacement for your skull?"

Sherlock stopped directly in front of the chair and bent down so his face was even with the other man's. "John, what is it like in there?" he asked softly. "I imagine it must be quiet and oh so very relaxing. Turn your head."

"What? Why?"

"Just turn your head."

John sighed and looked to the right. He jumped when he felt Sherlock's nose bump him. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to see, now hold still."

"Trying to see what? You need a light to see into a person's ear. Get off." He turned back and leaned back quickly. Sherlock's face was uncomfortably close to his. "Could you move back, please?"

"Pupils dilated, breath and heart rate increased," Sherlock murmured. "Do you like having me this close to you, John?"

"What? Of course not."


"Now what's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm only going to say this one, John, so I want you to listen to me very closely and memorize every word. I consider you unique on this planet as the only man I choose to call friend. I let you take my card with no concern about how you would use it. I let you share my cases and my life because in you I see both a light and a reflector of light. You have a talent that you are unaware of, one I am incapable of, which balances us perfectly. You are my friend, John Watson, regardless of how you choose to see me." He pushed back so suddenly that John jumped. "I will do my best to ensure no harm comes to you, but you have to trust in me," Sherlock continued. "Put my card back in my wallet when you're done with it. Good night."

Before John could say a word, Sherlock had collected his scarf and coat and vanished into the night.

John waited an hour, but finally gave in and went to bed. The problem was that he exactly why he objected to Sherlock calling him a friend. Whenever Sherlock said the word, each and every person who heard it hear the undertone used and they all took it to mean lover. He wasn't entirely sure that Sherlock knew what it meant to be a friend, but John did have to admit that a man so used to being in control wouldn't trust easily. To let a complete stranger move in with him, in this day and age, was just asking for trouble. John rolled over onto his back and sighed. Knowing Sherlock, he'd deduced every single thing about John down to his grades at school and knew that he wasn't a risk to share space with.

It was riskier for John, in more ways than one. He was military, trained to handle himself, and he'd let himself go lax. Being around Sherlock obviously meant danger, and John found the idea thrilling. He'd told Sarah mundane was good, but if that was all he had, then he'd go spare. Sherlock gave him a chance to do good again. He loved being a doctor and helping people that way, but he needed more. That was one of the reasons he'd joined the Army, to help people who couldn't always help themselves.

Sherlock gave him so much more. Not just attempts on his life and menial work about the flat. He trusted John. The thought made John sit bolt upright in bed. Sherlock Holmes trusted him.

"Finally worked it out, have you?"

"How long have you been there?"

Sherlock flipped on the light and shut the door behind him. "I could hear you thinking and wanted to see what conclusions you had drawn," he said. "Let people think what they want, John. They're all idiots anyways. The important fact is what you know."

John hung his head with a laugh. "You knew all this time."

"Of course I did. People are so quick with their labels and are going to believe what they will." Sherlock leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "John, the reason you and 98% of the population hear the word lover when I say friend is because to me, a friend is an intimate connection. One I have never been able to manage until I met you."

"Only 98%?"

"Yeah, Mycroft and Lestrade know the truth."


"Lestrade knows better than to think I would be interested in anyone sexually, and Mycroft has the flat bugged. Oh, I can hear him ranting at his instillation team. I wasn't to know. How could I not know when they placed a camera in Horatio?"

"Wait, the flat is bugged?" John looked around his room searching for cameras. "Even here?"

"Even the bathroom. I've tried to point out it's illegal, not to mention unethical and downright stupid, but you know Mycroft."

"Yeah." John pulled the covers up a little. "I don't suppose you could persuade him to take the things out of here, could you?"

"I'll try, but I doubt he'll listen to reason. He's convinced I'm going to go dark or evil or something and start killing people," Sherlock said. "It really is quite annoying. If he didn't have a use for me, he'd probably lock me away."

"Sherlock, that's horrible. Of course you're not going to kill anyone. Not intentionally, anyway."

"Thank you for that, John," Sherlock chuckled. "Anyway, that's sorted. I can work on a new puzzle that arrived whilst we were out. I would suggest taking your dates back to their flats or to a hotel for the next few weeks. I'll speak with Mycroft, but I doubt there will be a resolution before then. Get some sleep."

"I can't," John admitted. He got up and grabbed his dressing gown. "What's the puzzle?"

"I suspect a death threat, not that it's anything extremely trying, just a diversion for the night." He stopped suddenly. "Did you put my card back in my wallet?"

"Yeah, before I came up."

"Get dressed. We're going out."

"Going out? Sherlock, it's gone one. Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise."

John nodded and went back to his room. He wasn't happy at the thought of dressing with the cameras around, but figured he'd done it before and there was nothing new for anyone to see.

Sherlock led the way through an amazing number of back alleys and side streets until they came to a well kept, but out of the way hotel. "Uhm, Sherlock, what's going on?"

"You need to sleep, John. I want to help you, but I can't at the flat. Not with the cameras around."

"What exactly are you planning?"

"Simple hypnotism. Should put you right out for eight hours and then you'll be more alert when you go to apologize to Sarah and ask her out again."

John snorted. "Yeah, doubt she'll go out with me again," he said.

"Double, please," Sherlock said to the clerk. "Is the kitchen still open?"

"For another half hour. You gents want something?"

"Do you have fudge sundaes?" Sherlock asked after a moment's thought. "Splendid. Could you have two sent up to the room with tea, please?" He took the key and walked to the lifts.

"Ice cream, Sherlock?"

Sherlock smiled. "Why not? We haven't had a proper sweet for days," he said. "You really should relax, John. Making you more tense is not the reason we're here."

"I can't believe you want to try and hypnotize me. Why couldn't you do that at home?"

"Mycroft doesn't know that I know how," Sherlock said. He unlocked the room and stepped inside. "It's just as well to keep a few secrets, don't you think? Yes, this will do nicely."

It was a nice enough room, certainly nicer than the one John lived in when he first returned to London. He crossed over and sat on one of the beds. "Nice," he said with a smile.

"That will be our ice cream and tea," Sherlock said. He opened the door and sighed. "Put it on the table and tell Mycroft that he is slipping."

The waiter looked startled, but not puzzled. "Sir?"

"I've seen you four times since you began working for my brother, the last was just over a week ago. And he wonders why I never ring. Oh, look, our ice cream is melting. If nothing else, I plan to complain about the quality of your service. Thank you. Do not forget my message. Good morning."

"That guy....really?"

"Yes, really. Come and eat before this melts any further and makes a mess."

John sat down in the only chair and picked up one of the spoons. "Sherlock, this is crazy. What does Mycroft think he's doing anyway?"

"No doubt saving the world from me. It really is rather annoying, especially when I'm trying to work. I can hear the surveillance cameras turning to follow me." Sherlock took a bite of his own sundae. "John, is something wrong?"

"What, no, sorry. It's just good to see you eating, even if it isn't healthy." He tried not to show how much the sight of Sherlock's tongue licking the spoon bothered him.


"There's that sound again. What does it mean?"

"I'm thinking. Anyway, ice cream is healthy for you. It's made from a dairy base, as is the whipped cream, and doctors, yes doctors, John, have reported that chocolate is good for you."

John laughed. "If you don't count the sugar and fat, then yes, I suppose they are healthy. Just don't try to live off them and you'll be fine."

"Too cold. Too much cold can cause the brain to freeze and I can't take the risk. Still, it is a nice treat. There's something about this case, John, that's still bothering me."

"What the man stole?"

"I worked out the code, they're searching for a jade pin. I have the location it was to be delivered to, where you were taken and held, and how much they were going to pay for it's return. I have everything, John, save the pin."

"You'll work it out." John scraped the last of the ice cream out of his glass and leaned back with a sigh. "That was, actually, just what I needed. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Tea?"

"Not right now. I think I'm just going to close my eyes for a moment. I do not want to move."

Sherlock nodded and poured a cup of tea for himself, adding sugar, before leaning back to study his flat-mate. John did look tired and worn from what he had gone through that evening. Sherlock must have missed the kidnappers by mere seconds, but it was long enough for them to subdue and make off with John. And Sarah, but Sherlock didn't care about her beyond the simple fact that she was an innocent, and he would never allow harm to befall an innocent if he could stop it. But John, finding John gone had driven all thoughts of the case from Sherlock's head. To hear John being sarcastic would have made Sherlock smile, if he hadn't been so focused on keeping all of them alive.

He gathered all the dishes quietly and carried the tray to the door. "Enjoy the view of the hall, brother dear," he murmured as he put everything outside.

"The tray?" John muttered, not opening his eyes.

"The sugar bowl and cream pitcher," Sherlock replied. "You rest a moment more, John. I'm just going to ensure Mycroft didn't get anyone in here ahead of us. I picked a random hotel and moved as secretly as possible, but this is Mycroft and it's better not to assume anything."

"Maybe I should talk to him. "John opened an eye and watched Sherlock as he searched the room. "Do you think it would help?"

"It certainly wouldn't hurt, although now he's aware that both of us are aware, he might remove them and resort to a more subtle approach."

"Sorry, more subtle?"

"Bugging our phones, monitoring all our computer activities, our debit and credit card transactions. He might even place a spy across the street with a telescope."

John laughed. "That's hardly subtle."

"Makes a good distraction though. I do think we're in the clear. Now, John, I want you to relax. Where would be better, the bed, the sofa or that chair?"

"I'm fine here. You're really serious. You're going to hypnotize me? You don't know how to hypnotize anyone."

"Of course I do." Sherlock perched on the arm of the chair and looked at John. "What makes you think I don't?"

"Because there's no scientific proof or logic behind hypnotism."

Sherlock smiled. "I think you're reading too much into this, John. You've tensed up again."

"Yeah, well, having you close to me does that. I never know what you're going to do next."

"Am I really that unpredictable?" Sherlock smiled. "That's good to know. John, I'm not going to hurt you. I need you to relax or this is never going to work. Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Just listen to the sound of my voice as you let your muscles relax." He paused and sighed. "John, you're still tense."

"You're still close."

"Wouldn't it be worse if I was walking around behind you? You'd be worried that I was going to grab you and shout or something equally as juvenile."

"You did that." John looked over at Sherlock.

"I did? When?"

"On the railway when you were going on about human memory and me recalling all the symbols."

Sherlock paused for a moment. "I didn't shout."

"No, but you did grab me. And swung me about in a circle. Why did you have to swing me about like that anyways?"

"Circular reasoning. It always helped me recall as a lad."

"That's not circular reasoning, that's being silly. Circular reasoning is when you start with what you're trying to end up with. It's not spinning about in a circle." He paused. "I just walked into that, didn't I?"


John shook his head with a chuckle. "Sherlock, it's almost two and I'm still wide awake. I don't think this is going to work, but thank you for trying."

"Let me try once more. Leave off your boots and socks and go lie down. I'll stay here and talk."

"I guess I really don't have anything to lose, do I?" John undid his boots with a sigh and kicked them off, tucking a sock into each before putting them next to the chair. "What are you going to talk about?"

"Well, I had thought poisons and their various effects on the human body, but I doubt you'd find that relaxing."

"Not really, no. I was thinking more like Peter Pan or something."


"Peter Pan, the story by...no, never mind. I'll tell you later. Shoes and socks off, in bed. Now what?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes for a moment, but focused. "Lie back and relax. Close your eyes and listen to my voice as you let the tension drain from your body."

"You're still in the chair?"

"Still here. Ready?"

"I suppose."

"Focus on the sound and rhythm of my voice, not the individual words, John. Relax and release the tension in your body."

John shifted a little, trying to feel more settled. He really felt like he was in an experiment. He focused on listening for Sherlock to move as he really didn't expect his friend to stay in the chair.

"Bottomless vales and boundless floods,
And chasms, and caves and Titan woods,
With forms that no man can discover
For the dews that drip all over,
Mountains toppling evermore
Into seas without a shore;
Seas that restlessly aspire,
Surging, unto skies of fire;
Lakes that endlessly outspread
Their lone waters - lone and dead, -
Their still waters - still and chilly
With snows of the lolling lily.
By the lakes that thus outspread
Their lone waters, lone and dead, -"

"Sherlock, that's hardly conducive for a good night's sleep."

"Then maybe this is."

John's eyes flew open when lips covered his own. He didn't know how Sherlock covered the distance between chair and bed without his voice growing louder or making any noise, but he was there. He was kissing John.

John wasn't gay. He had no sexual interest in men at all. But he had been slowly realizing he had a rather large interest in Sherlock. He just wasn't sure what to do with that interest as he hadn't thought it was returned.

"I can hear your thoughts, John," Sherlock murmured, barely moving back. "Am I that frightfully bad of a kisser?"

"What? No, no, you're not. It's just, I wasn't expecting it and you did say you'd stay in the chair."

"I did, up until the last two lines." Sherlock sat back and sighed. "What are you thinking, John? Just because I can hear them, doesn't mean I'm capable of reading your thoughts."

"I'm not gay."

"So you insist on repeating with alarming regularity."

"I do."


"Oh, right. It's true, Sherlock. I'm not gay. I've never been attracted to another man before."

Sherlock smiled. "Then what's this, then, hmmm?

John jumped when Sherlock's finger traced over his fly, and the start of an erection. "Frustration. Desperation."


"I don't know why, but I am attracted to you, Sherlock. I'm probably mad, but I am. I just didn't know what to do about it, so I asked Sarah out."

"What would you like to do about it, John?"

"Pin you down and kiss you silly."

"Won't happen, there's no way to make me silly, as you put it. We do have a few hours until we have to be home, and you do need sleep, so I think anything too complex shall have to await another night." Sherlock considered John for a moment. "There's not nearly enough time for me to study you thoroughly tonight, so we'll just have to make do."

"Study me?"

"You should know I never do anything halfway."


"There is still much to deduce about each other. Tonight, however, we need to get you relaxed enough to sleep. I think I can make that happen." He leaned in again.

"Sherlock, a hand job isn't going to do it," John said. I could've done that myself and given Mycroft something to watch." He paused. "I'm never touching myself again."

"Not a positive mental image, no." Sherlock closed the small distance between them and kissed John again. This time John relaxed into the kiss and responded, trying not to think about how odd everything was. The form against him was firm and lean, not soft, but he liked it. When Sherlock's tongue traced his lips, John opened with a soft moan and tangled his hands in the curly hair he could feel tickling his cheek.

John was still trying to get used to being under a lover and the one being kissed, when one of Sherlock's hands slid under his shirt and a single finger traced over a nipple. John moaned and broke the kiss, suddenly feeling in need of a lot of air. No one had touched him there before, and the result was electric.

"I believe I'll need more data from this location," Sherlock smiled. He pressed a kiss to John's neck. "Much more data in order to form a positive opinion of whether or not you enjoy this."

"Sherlock, will you just shut up and kiss me?" John asked. "Sex is not about data collection."

"So you're saying you don't want me to do this again?" Sherlock dragged his finger across the nipple again, pulling another moan from John. "That's what I thought. It probably wouldn't be a good idea for me to do this, either, now would it?"

John jumped when slender fingers undid his fly and reached inside. "Your hands are cold."


"It's okay." John reached up and pulled Sherlock's head down for another kiss. Sherlock let him lead and proved how adept he was at multitasking. When John licked Sherlock's lips for the last time and pulled back, he realized that his pants were around his knees. "When did you do that?"

"This would be easier if you would take off your jumper and shirt too," Sherlock said. He stroked down John's erection and smiled. "But I understand if you're distracted."

"This would be less odd if you undressed too."

"Later, John, I told you. Tonight is about you."

Before John could say anything, Sherlock had moved back and shifted so his head was closer to John's erection. John closed his eyes, knowing what was going to happen, and almost cried out when the slick tongue touched the end of his cock. His hands found their way back into Sherlock's curly hair and held on as he was taken into the detective's warm mouth.

Sherlock worked with surprising skill, but given how the man studied everything he thought he would need to know, and ignored everything else around him, John just gave in and enjoyed the sensations. He would be able to ask about other lovers once his body stopped arching up, searching for a touch from the man above him.

Embarrassingly fast, John felt his climax rising in him and tried to warn Sherlock, but managed only a croak before he exploded. Sherlock swallowed as best he could and then moved back, licking his lips. "That was much faster than I was expecting," he murmured. "Do you always climax so quickly, or is it because you've been deprived for the past few months?"

"Sherlock, shut up and get undressed," John murmured, feeling his eyes closing without his permission. "We don't have to be up until ten."

"Sleep, John, I'll be there in a moment."

John was almost asleep when he felt a cloth cleaning him up and hands undressing him. He was too relaxed to wake up to help, and smiled when he felt a naked form slide into the bed next to him. "Better."

"I'll wake you," Sherlock said.

When they got back to the flat the next morning, Sherlock wasn't surprised to find his brother waiting in the sitting area for them. "Good morning, Mycroft. Had a frustrating night?"


"Coffee or tea, John?" Sherlock asked, turning around.

"Coffee, please," John replied. "Wait a tick, you make horrid coffee. Out the kitchen, I'll do it."

"Fine, just don't use the decaffeinated tin," Sherlock said. "I have an experiment going in there, it needs another day to finish." He sat down in his chair and looked at his brother. "I want them gone, Mycroft. All of them."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Sherlock. I just came to see how John is after his ordeal last night."

Sherlock pointed to the skull on the mantle. "Look in Horatio's left eye, Mycroft, and tell me what you see there."

"I don't know why you insist on calling that piece of bone Horatio, Sherlock. Everyone knows that Yorick is the one who was dug up, and it is Horatio to whom Hamlet was speaking. There's nothing in his eye."

"Then you removed them already," Sherlock said. "Trying to make me look insane in front of John?"

"You do that all on your own, Sherlock. Now really, how are you doing, John? I am sorry for what you went through last night."

John didn't turn around. "I don't know what you mean. We managed to break open a fairly large smuggling ring. I'd say that was a good night's work, Mycroft. And if there are any cameras left in my room, I want them gone or I'm going to have a talk with Lestrade. I think he'd have something to say about illegal bugging, even if you are the government."

"Just a minor official," Mycroft said. "I am sorry that Sherlock's fed you such an unbelievable story. I don't know where his mind goes at times."

"I could say the same for you," Sherlock said. He tossed something to his brother. "Take them out, Mycroft. All of them."


"This is my flat, mine and John's, and you have no right to spy on us."

"Fine, Sherlock, fine," Mycroft sighed. "If it will make you happy, I'll remove the cameras and microphones from the flat. I'm just worried about you."

"You have an odd way of showing it. Now, if you'll excuse me, John and I have a few loose ends to wrap up in our investigation," Sherlock said. "Forgive me for not inviting you to breakfast."

John watched until he was sure the older Holmes was gone. "I'm surprised he gave in as easily as he did."

Sherlock paused in gathering up some of the papers he'd left scattered the night before. "I'm not. He'll figure out something new to try on us. Here, have a look at this."

"Nine mil.."


"Nine million, yes, nine million for jade pin, dragon den, black tramway. Nine million for a hair pin? Why?"

Sherlock sipped his coffee. "It depends on who owned it. I also worked out who stole it."

"You did? When?"

"Whilst you were asleep. Come on, let's go out. We can wrap this up and go have some breakfast."

"You. Breakfast?"

"It's on the bank," Sherlock grinned.

One thing John admired about Sherlock was his knowledge of London, especially the restaurants. He couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed dining out so much. "So, what happens now?"

"We just have to see where it takes us," Sherlock replied, sipping his coffee. "I'd love more, John, but I won't push. You have to be comfortable with this too."

"I meant with the pin, but okay, we can talk about that," John said. "You're going to have to be patient with me, Sherlock. I know what happens, technically, but actually having it happen to me is going to be rather odd."

"But you are curious."

"Very, very curious."

"Good." Sherlock smiled. "Very good, John."

"You know, there is one other thing I'm curious about."

"What's that?"


"Oh, that. My father once compared me to Dupin, thinking he was giving me a compliment. I read a few things to see what all the fuss was about, and that was one I liked enough to remember." Sherlock looked out the window at the throngs of people passing by. "There's something fascinating about it's bleakness."

"I rather thought of you at one point," John said.


"It seemed to be talking about you."

"Not anymore."

John laughed. Sherlock had a good point.