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Not Above Reproach

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When rebuking or lecturing me, John speaks in capital letters, like the title of a novel within which are written the details of my transgressions. In my mind palace, I keep them in a room in John's wing, the same room in which I've captured all of his facial expressions (limitless number, will have to restructure soon) because even his frustration and exasperation with me is precious and worthy of remembering. 

Most of them are also endearingly funny. A sampling:

Godammit Sherlock, You Should Have Gone When You Had the Chance and You'll Just Have to Hold It! 

I Told You to Leave the Damn Coat at Home, So Don't Complain to Me About Being Hot, and No, I Won't Hold It for You So Don't Even Ask.  

I'd Like to Go Home, Too, But We Wouldn't Be In A&E In the First Place If You Stopped Licking Things At Crime Scenes! 

If You Won't Tell Me, Then I'll Just Have to Ask Mycroft and Your Precious Pride Can Go Hang.

If I Find You Snooping In My Bedroom One More Time, Sherlock, So Help Me God, I Will Put in New Locks, And That Is Not A Challenge!  

Despite What You Think, Being Your Best Friend Doesn't Mean I Have to Do Everything You Tell Me to Do.

(which is almost always followed by) 

Fine, But Just This Once, So Don't Get Used to It. 

(too late)