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Elemen -- wait for it -- tary

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Sherlock: It's so obvious, John. It's elemen -- wait for it -- because it's clear your plebian minds haven't had a chance to catch up to it -- tary.

John: No one else heard that, did they?

Lestrade: No.

Sherlock: Good. That was... distressingly terrible. Heard it as soon as I said it.

John: Yeah. Never do that again.

Chapter Text

Mary: Really, a mustache?

John: I pull it off.

Lestrade: Hey, Mols, if I said, "John cannot pull this off," what would I be talking about?

Molly: His mustache.

Chapter Text

Sherlock: (knock, knock, knock) John? (knock, knock, knock) John? (knock, knock, knock) John?

John: What is it?

Sherlock: I made tea.

John: I don't want tea.

Sherlock: I didn't make tea for you. This is my tea.

John: Then why are you telling me?

Sherlock: It's a conversation starter.

John: That's a lousy conversation starter.

Sherlock: Oh, is it? We're conversing. Checkmate.

John: What do you want, Sherlock?

Sherlock: What I want is for Lestrade to call with a triple homicide, locked door puzzle, at least a nine, with an impossible motive and a criminal who has an iota of imagination.

John: I want that too. Why are you here?

Sherlock: To comfort you, of course. (sits on the bed, stands uncomfortably) No, that's not going to work at all, I'll comfort you from over here. John, what you're experiencing is a classic Jungian crisis in which the aging individual mourns the loss of the never-to-be realized ideal family unit.

John: Thank you, that's very comforting.

Sherlock: That's not the comforting part.

John: It's not?

Sherlock: No, no. The comforting part is that the Germans have a term for what you're feeling. Weltschmerz. It means the depression that arises from comparing the world as it is to a hypothetical, idealized world.

John: You're right, I do feel better.

Sherlock: Well, the Germans have always been a comforting people. Just remember, John, where your biological family has failed you, you always have me, your surrogate family.

John: You're my surrogate family?

Sherlock: If it's any consolation, I'm not happy about it either. Good night.

Chapter Text

Sherlock: Obvious! (jumps up, wraps sheet more tightly around himself) Someone touched my evidence wall. Oh God, my evidence wall. John! John!

John: Hey, what's the matter?

Sherlock: My evidence, someone's tampered with my evidence.

John: Are you sure?

Sherlock: Of course I'm sure. Look at the tourist map of area aviaries, someone's moved the results from the soil and pollen samples next to the kakapo feather.

John: Oh yeah. But doesn't that explain the location problem you've been having?

Sherlock: Are you insane? Are you out of your mind? Are you... hey look, that explains the location problem I've been having.

Irene: You're welcome.

Sherlock: You did this?

Irene: Yeah, I noticed it when I got up to get a glass of water, so I fixed it. Now you can prove the suspect was, in fact, at the aviary the night of the benefit. Neat, huh?

Sherlock: Neat?

Irene: Listen, I've got to meet a client. Thanks for a great night.

John: Oh, um, thank you.

Sherlock: Huh-uh. Hold on, hold on!

Irene: What?

Sherlock: Who told you you could touch my evidence wall?

Irene: No one.

Sherlock: I don't come into your lair and touch your evidence wall.

Irene: There are no misplaced clues on my evidence wall.

Sherlock: Oh, that is so... so...

Irene: I'm sorry, I've got to run. If you come up with an adjective, text me. (leaves)

Sherlock: Inconsiderate! That is the adjective, inconsiderate! (texts furiously)

Chapter Text

Sherlock: Stop it!

John: Stop what?

Sherlock: You're talking about me in Morse Code. Well, you know what? Joke's on you 'cause I know Morse Code. Ha!

John: Yeah. That's what we're doing. In our very limited free time and with our very limited budget, we went and got a nanny and then we went out and took a class on a very outmoded and very unnecessary form of communication just so we could talk about you in front of you.


*cut away shot*

John: Yup. That's exactly what we did.

Mary: It all started when Sherlock was tapping his foot against the leg of his desk. When I asked him to stop, he said, 'I will when you lose the baby weight.'

*cut back*

Lestrade: John, are you clicking a detonator.

John: It's a pen.

Sherlock: Gavin, come on.

Lestrade: Get back to work, Sherlock. Please.

Sherlock: Fine. Tap away (puts on noise cancelling headphones).

John and Mary begin to blink in Morse Code.

Chapter Text

Sherlock: Why are all these people here? There are too many people on this Earth. We need a new plague. Who are all these people?

Chapter Text

Sherlock: Hey! How was pub night?

John: I never made it. Listen, Sherlock, I've got to talk to you about something.

Sherlock: As do I. What would you think about being more involved with cases?

John: That's what I wanted to talk about. I would love to.

Sherlock: Thank God.  You know, I just think we're better together.

John: "Better together." I like that.

Mrs. Hudson: (blustering out, and past the boys) I cannot be in a house with snakes.

John: How bad is it?

Sherlock: Gonna need about an hour.

John: Wow. Okay.

Chapter Text

Sherlock: (Knock, knock, knock) Ugh. (Knock, knock, knock) U-u-ugh. (Knock, knock, knock) Joh-uu-gggh.

John: What? What’s the matter?

Sherlock: I have pain radiating from my navel to my lower right abdomen. I’m nauseated and feverish. I believe I may have cholera.

John: There’s no cholera in Pasadena. Just like last summer, when there was no malaria in Pasadena.

Sherlock: Well, if it’s not cholera, the other obvious explanations, in decreasing order of likelihood, are Hirschsprung’s Disease, botulism, a 30-foot tapeworm or accidental ingestion of chrysanthemum blossoms.

John: When would you have accidentally eaten chrysanthemum blossoms?

Sherlock: It’s part of an unlikely scenario that involves that green house case from three months ago, and a contaminated cup of tea. Oh, Lord, my belly!

John: Have you had your appendix out?

Sherlock: I haven’t. I’ve been meaning to, but who has the time?

John: Let’s get you to the hospital.

Sherlock: So this is how it ends, with cruel irony. Just as I make the commitment to maintain my transport, I am betrayed by my appendix, a vestigial organ. Do you know the original purpose of the appendix, John?

John: I am a doctor.

Sherlock: So no (John scoffs). Well I do. And yet I’m doomed while you live on.

John: Funny how things work out, isn’t it?

Sherlock: Oh, Lord, I think it’s about to burst! (passes gas rather forcefully) On the other hand, it might have been the brussel sprouts.

John: Good night.

Sherlock: Good night. Appendicitis. What a nervous Nelly.

Chapter Text

John: If future Biff goes back to 2015 right after he gives young Biff the almanac, he could get back to the 2015 with Marty and Doc in it. Because it wasn’t until his 21st birthday that 1955 Biff placed his first bet.

Sherlock: Wait. Whoa, whoa. Is placed right?

John: What do you mean?

Sherlock: Is placed the right tense for something that would have happened in the future of a past that was affected by something from the future?

John: Had will have placed?

Sherlock: That’s my boy.

John: Okay, so, it wasn’t until his 21st birthday that Biff had will have placed his first bet and made his millions. That’s when he altered the timeline.

Sherlock: Yeah, but he had will haven’t placed it! When Biff gets the almanac in 1955, the alternate future he creates isn’t the one in which Marty and Doc Brown ever use the time machine to travel to 2015. Therefore, in the new timeline, Marty and Doc never brought the time machine…

John: Wait. Is brought right?

Sherlock: Marty and Doc never had have had brought?

John: I don’t know. You did it to me.

Sherlock: Oh, I’m going with it. Marty and Doc never had have had brought the time machine to 2015. That means 2015 Biff could also not had have had brought the almanac to 1955 Biff. Therefore, the timeline in which 1955 Biff gets the almanac is also the timeline in which 1955 Biff never gets the almanac. And not just never gets. Never have, never hasn’t, never had have hasn’t.

Chapter Text

John: Well, what am I supposed to do?

Sherlock: I don’t know, but if you don’t figure something out, I warn you I shall become very difficult to live with.

John: You mean, up until now we’ve been experiencing the happy fun-time Sherlock?

Sherlock: Yes.

Chapter Text

Scene: Sherlock's flat. There is an urgent rapping at the door.

John: I’m coming! (John is frantic. Opens the door. Sherlock falls inside, wearing his pyjamas. John supports him. Lestrade is behind Sherlock, he's furious.)

Sherlock: (Slurring, drugged) Hey, there he ith, there’th my old buddy-bud-bud.

John: What’s with him?

Lestrade: Molly dumped him on me, and I was going to take him back to the hospital, so I gave him a cuppa with a handful of my ex-wife’s valium in it. But he still wouldn’t cooperate, so, tag, you’re it. (Lestrade makes a break for it.)

Sherlock: I’m ba-ack!

John: I still don’t know why you left.

Sherlock: I can’t tell you.

John: Why not.

Sherlock: I promithed Mary.

John: You promised Mary what?

Sherlock: That I wouldn’t tell you the thecret. Sthhhhh!

John: What secret? Tell me the secret.

Sherlock: Mummy sthmoketh in the car. Jethuth ith okay with it, but we can’t tell father.

John: Not that secret, the other secret.

Sherlock: I’m Batman. Sthhhhh!

John: Dammit, Sherlock! You said Mary told you a secret, what was the secret?

Sherlock: Okay, I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell John.

John: I promise.

Sherlock: Mary lied about being an athathin becauthe sthe ith afraid John won't love her.

John: Mary's an assasin? Magnussen is her problem?

SherlockSherlock: I drank tea that tathted funny.

John: Mary thinks I won't love her, that’s.. ridiculous... Wait. Did Mary... Did she shoot you? That's...

Sherlock: I know, mostht of your obthervationth are uthually extremely tediouth. Don’t worry, that’th not a thecret. Everybody knowth.

Chapter Text

Molly: Maybe you could try apologizing because you actually feel bad. It’s called empathy. It’s something you could work on.

Sherlock: I have empathy. Watch. (completely cold and detached, utterly Sherlockian.) John made me soup, and I was mean to him.

Molly: (frowns) Great. Now try it as if this isn’t your first day as a person.

Sherlock: Fine. (disingenuous, though significantly less so than before) John made me soup, and I was mean to him. (surprised) Hey, I felt a little something. Let me try again. (genuine) John made me soup, and I was mean to him. (now with sentiment) I was mean to him. He must have felt terrible. Oh, now I feel terrible. (pleased) Neat.

Molly: Glad I could help.

Sherlock: Now let me see you feel bad for staying at that conference longer than you needed to and forcing me to tolerate the interim pathologist.

Molly: (insincere and flat) I feel so, so bad.

Sherlock: (grinning) Hey, we’re both great at this.

Chapter Text

Mrs Hudson: Sherlock, when was the last time you got any sleep?

Sherlock: I don’t know, two, three days. Not important. I don’t need sleep, I need answers. I need to determine where in this swamp of unbalanced formulas squatteth the toad of truth.

Mary: Toad of truth? Is that a detective thing?

John: No, that’s a high functioning sociopath thing.

Mrs Hudson: Okay, Sherlock. What happens to our neuroreceptors when we don’t get enough REM sleep?

Sherlock: They lose their sensitivity to serotonin and norepinephrine.

Mrs Hudson: Which leads to…?

Sherlock: Impaired cognitive function.

Mrs Hudson: Right, so march in there, brush your teeth and go to bed.

Sherlock: But I don’t want to go to bed.

Mrs Hudson: I’m going to count to three. One…

Sherlock: (huffs indignantly) Oh, all right. (stomps to his room)

John: That was amazing how you handled him.

Mrs Hudson: I know how to deal with stubborn young men. My husband used to run an illegal drug cartel in our basement.

Chapter Text

Priest: All right, let’s continue.

Sherlock: Yeah, excuse me, I need to say something to someone pretty special, and I just can’t wait any longer.

Molly: (smooths hair, shifts in her seat, whispers excitedly) It’s happening.

Sherlock: John, you and I have our ups and downs. But I have always considered you my family. I don’t always show it, but you are of great importance to me. (hugs John) Both of you. (adds Mary to the hug)

Mary: Oh.

John: (near tears) Thank you.

Priest: Okay. I now pronounce you husband and wife. And weird other husband who came with the flat.

Chapter Text

Sherlock: What, why did you get a party sub?

John: People are coming over, it looked fun.

Sherlock: Well, you’re only watching Game of Thrones. A party sub implies it’s a party.

John: Your attendance implies it’s not.

Sherlock: I like a party as much as the next man, as long as the next man doesn’t like a party. Oh, by the way, don’t forget, tomorrow is our quarterly flatmate agreement meeting.

John: Oh, Sherlock, we don’t need a meeting every three months.

Sherlock: Hmm? Well, it sounds like the kind of thing one would bring up at a quarterly flatmate agreement meeting. Lucky for you it’s tomorrow.

John: Oh, you know what? I’m not going.

Sherlock: Well, you have to go. It’s Mary’s first time leading the Flat Oath of Allegiance.

John: This meeting is a waste of time. Whether we make the switch from Post Raisin Bran to Kellogg’s Raisin Bran should not require parliamentary procedure.

Sherlock: You realize one of them has sugar on the raisins.

John: You’re the only one who uses them for experiments.

Sherlock: And yet you get to weigh in. Democracy, it’s pretty neat, isn’t it?

John: I’m not going, you can’t make me.

Sherlock: Well, we’ll just see about that.

Mary: What is the problem?

Sherlock: He says he’s not coming to the flatmate agreement meeting tomorrow.

Mary: Well, why the hell did I memorize that oath?

John: (glances suspiciously at Mary) Well have fun. I will not be attending.

Sherlock: Oh, fine. We don’t have to have a flatmate agreement meeting if you don’t want to.

John: Thank you.

Sherlock: Of course, it will require a vote. Unfortunately, my official gavel is in my bedroom, but luckily, I have my travel gavel.

John: You’re being ridiculous.

Sherlock: There’s a motion on the floor, I’m ridiculous. Do we have a second? Hmm? Hmm? There is no second. The motion is denied. Next time, make sure you have the votes first. That was embarrassing.

John: Can you please talk to him?

Mary: Well, why are you fighting him on this?

John: Because I am tired of him always getting his way. We don’t need a stupid meeting. We don’t even need a flatmate agreement, and I hope that sandwich does cause a party.

Mary: Well, I will still come to your meeting.

Sherlock: Well, I should hope so. Tomorrow’s picture day.

John: Why are you taking his side?

Mary: Because it’s important to him, and when we signed the flatmate agreement, we made a deal.

Sherlock: You keep talking like that, you’re gonna make colour guard.

Chapter Text

Scene: The wedding.


Molly: Would you like to dance?

John: No, thank you. I’m really not much of a dancer.

Molly: You’re not exactly winning any trophies as a conversationalist, either.

John: I’m sorry. The bride and groom seem happy.

Molly: Why shouldn’t they be? They have a feverish night of socially-approved copulation ahead of them. In some cultures, we’d stand outside of their bedroom cheering as they achieved orgasm.

John: (chokes on his drink) That sounds like a late night, and I have work in the morning, so…

Molly: John, you may not have noticed, but I am being a delight here. And you’re not holding up your end of the evening.

John: Oh, sorry. This wedding just reminds me of my estranged, pregnant, former-assassin wife who is god only knows where.

Molly: I'm in love with a mad, selfish, genius sociopath who’s busy microwaving thumbs right now. You don’t hear me bitching about it. John, a word of advice, moody self-obsession is only attractive in men who can play violin and are considerably taller than you.

John: He's not that much taller. And I’m not moody. I’m fun.

Molly: You have any evidence to support that statement?

John: Well, hey, I’m just as much fun as you are.

Molly: Really? Are you willing to draw a moustache on your finger as a conversational icebreaker? I am. (holds her index finger under her nose, revealing a roughly drawn handlebar moustache)

John: Okay, fine, what do you suggest?

Molly: We just had a lovely meal, the band is on fire, and you’re sitting next to a beautiful woman wearing whorish makeup. Why don’t we head out on the dance floor and see if I can sweat through these dress shields.

John: Once again, I… I’m really not much of a dancer.

Molly: Don’t worry, I’ll lead. (she places her finger back under her nose and raises her eyebrows with a grin)

John: (sighs and follows Molly to the dance floor. He is a man used to being resigned to the mad whims of others.)


Scene: The stairwell. Molly is helping John up the stairs.


Molly: There we go, last step.

John: I just can’t figure out what happened. I put my left leg in, I took my left leg out, I put my left leg in, and something just snapped.

Molly: The hokey pokey is a young man’s game.

John: I did have a great time. Thank you for reminding me it’s okay to have fun once in awhile.

Molly: You’re welcome.

John: And also for breaking the head off the ice swan so I could hold it against my pulled groin.

Molly: I excel at spatial reasoning, and I had a hunch that the graceful slope of its neck would cradle your genitals nicely.

John: Well, okay. Again, thank you.

Molly: And again, you’re welcome.

John: Want to come in, have a cup of tea?

Molly: No, thanks. I’m gonna head home.

John: Okay. Well, good night. (he kisses her on the cheek before limping into the flat)


Scene: The flat. John is making tea in the kitchen. Sherlock enters from the loo, wearing pyjamas and his robe. He's carrying one of the severed thumbs. John sighs and looks resigned once more.


Sherlock: John. Look at this thumb. I've isolated four genetic mutations so far. There could be more. I'll have to ask Molly for additional tissue samples. (he raises the thumb to John's face. John swats his hand away and turns his back on Sherlock, focusing on his tea)

John: Sounds like you had a great night.

Sherlock: I did. How was yours?

John: Not bad. I had a lot more fun with Molly than I thought I would.

Sherlock: What exactly do you mean by that?

John: Well, it turns out she really knows how to help a guy loosen up and have a good time. Although, truth be told, my groin’s a little worse for wear.

Sherlock: (karate chops John's good shoulder)

John: Ow! Why did you do that?

Sherlock: To send a message. She is not for you.

John: What?

Sherlock: Not for you! (he slams the thumb down next to John’s tea and stomps to the sitting room to abuse his violin and torment his flatmate)

Chapter Text

John: (enters the flat through the kitchen door, he's deep in conversation on his mobile) I’m really very busy. Is there any way that we can put this off until I have more time to prepare? Of course. But, uh, you understand my trepidation.

Mrs Hudson: (fussing about the mess, serving tea) What’s that about?

Lestrade: Not a clue.

John: (remains "hidden" in the kitchen) Can’t we just postpone it till the spring? Maybe next summer?

Sherlock: This should be fairly easy to deduce. He’s holding the phone to his left ear. Ears do not cross hemispheres, so he’s using the analytical rather than the emotional side of the brain, suggesting that he has no personal relationship with the caller.

John: No, I didn’t realize it had been so long. Sure, I guess there’s no other choice but to just go ahead and do it.

Sherlock: He’s referring to an activity he has done before. It’s unpleasant and needs to be repeated. This suggests some sort of invasive medical test, like perhaps a colonoscopy.

John: Aren’t there any other options? There’s not a lot of room, it’s gonna be uncomfortable.

Sherlock: Yes, yes. Yeah, I’m definitely going with colonoscopy.

John: Okay, bye. (turns to face Sherlock, looking defeated) My sister’s coming to visit.

Lestrade: How about that, you were right.

Chapter Text

Penny: (stumbles through the boys' apartment door, groggy and disheveled) Coffee. (she squints at the boys -- they are playing Rock Band and are interrupted mid-power ballad with Leonard on an electric drum kit and Sheldon on vocals) And could you turn it down?

Sheldon: I'm sorry, coffee's out of the question. When I moved to California I promised my mother that I wouldn't start doing drugs.* You’ve had a gentleman caller again.

Penny: Excuse me?

Sheldon: (pointing with the microphone stand) Marinara sauce. That’s yesterday's outfit, but there’s sauce on the sleeve. You wouldn’t dress like that to cook pasta. You don't cook at all.

Leonard: Sheldon.

Sheldon: Thumbnail -- your nail polish is chipped. But that's a new manicure. We all know where that leads, don’t we? (he sniffs deeply as he finally stops aiming the microphone stand at her) Hmm. Your perfume has more earthy undertones than your typical vanilla. Pretty racy for first thing on a Sunday morning, wouldn’t you agree? I’ve written a little blog on the identification of perfumes. It’s on my website – you should look it up.

Penny: Oh god.

Sheldon: I wouldn’t pin your hopes on that extended weekend in Cabo. He’s got a wife in Fresno that nobody knows about.

Leonard: Sheldon!

Sheldon: Well, nobody except me.

Penny: Oh god. (she storms out of the apartment, slamming the door closed as she goes. Sheldon shakes his head mournfully as he realizes their song has ended and they are being booed off the stage, he abruptly turns the game system off and slumps into his spot on the couch like a petulant child. Leonard slams his drumsticks down)

Leonard: What the hell was all that about?

Sheldon: Penny got us booed, Leonard.

Leonard: (stern) Go after her and apologize.

Sheldon:(confused) Apologize?

Leonard: Mmm-hmm.

Sheldon: Oh, Leonard, I envy you so much.

Leonard: You? Envy me?

Sheldon: Your mind: it’s so placid, straightforward, barely used. Mine’s like an engine, racing out of control; a rocket tearing itself to pieces trapped on the launch pad. (sighs) Rock Band is ruined.Take me to the comic book store.

Leonard: You’ve just got the new Flash.

Sheldon: That was last night!

Leonard: What about an experiment?

Sheldon: (stares into middle distance, thoughtfully, then claps his hands once) I read an article about Japanese scientists who inserted DNA from luminous jellyfish into other animals, and I just had the thought, hey, fish nightlights.**

Leonard: Fish nightlights.**

Sheldon: It’s a billion dollar idea. Shhhhh!**

Leonard: Mum’s the word. Sheldon, are you sure you don’t want to just apologize to Penny?**

Sheldon: This is perfect! Call Doctor Gablehauser. Tell him I'm about to make the physics department a fortune.

Leonard: Are you serious?

Sheldon: It’s this, or Star Wars Clue.

Leonard: Ah, no! (he shoves the drum kit away and glares at the Clue board stabbed through with a replica of Bilbo Baggins' sword 'Sting' and stuck to the dart board on the back of the apartment door) We are never playing that again!

Sheldon: Why not?

Leonard: Because it’s not actually possible for the victim to have done it, Sheldon, that’s why.

Sheldon: Well, it was the only possible solution.

Leonard: It’s not in the rules.

Sheldon: Then the rules are wrong!

Chapter Text

Sherlock: [Pushes John's door open and knocks on door jamb... Knock, knock, knock] John and Mary. [Knock, knock, knock] John and Mary.

John: [Waking up as Mary screams.] What! What, what, what?

Sherlock: [Knock, knock, knock] John and Mary.

John: What?

Sherlock: [Flips on light switch and paces into the room.] I have good news.

John: And you had to barge in here and wake us up in the middle of the night?

Sherlock: Your mobile was off.

John: Because we didn’t want to be disturbed.

Sherlock: And that didn’t work out, did it?

Mary: Sherlock, what do you want?

Sherlock: I came to tell you I’ve got the answer.

John: Really? You figured out the Garridebs problem?

Sherlock: No, no, I’m still hopelessly stuck on that, but I figured out how to figure it out.

Mary: Hey, you know what, John, I know I said I could handle your flatmate, but I was wrong. We’re going to have to break up. [Covers head with pillow.]

John: [Rolls eyes at Mary, glares at Sherlock.] What are you talking about?

Mary: [Startles as Sherlock sits on the bed right next to her.] Oh!

Sherlock: Einstein.

John: Yeah, I’m going to need a little more.

Sherlock: Albert Einstein.

John: Keep going.

Sherlock: When Albert Einstein came up with special relativity, he was working at the U.S. patent office.

John: So, you’re going to go work at the U.S. patent office?

Sherlock: [Scoffs] Don’t be absurd. That’s in Washington, DC. You know I could never live in a city whose streets are laid out in a wheel-and-spoke pattern. No. I’m going to find a similarly menial job where my basal ganglia are occupied with a routine task, freeing my prefrontal cortex to work quietly in the background on my problem.

John: Sounds like a great plan.

Sherlock: Of course it is. Even talking to you is sufficiently menial that I can feel the proverbial juices starting to flow.

John:  Okay, well, thanks for sharing with us. Good night.

Sherlock: You’re welcome. Good night to you, too. [Turns to leave room, waits a beat, turns back.] Oh, by the way, I was watching you sleep for a moment, and I noticed that your snoring seems to be worse when you’re on your back.

Mary: John doesn’t snore.

Sherlock: No, I wasn’t talking to John. [Turns off lights, exits abruptly.]

John: Told you. [Rolls over and tugs the blankets up. Mary smacks him with her pillow.]

Chapter Text

Sherlock: Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together we ought to be able to afford it. We’ll meet there tomorrow evening; seven o’clock. Sorry – gotta dash. I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary. [Walks past John to exit the lab.]

John: Is that it?

Sherlock: Is that what? [Turns back from door.]

John: We’ve only just met and we’re gonna go and look at a flat?

Sherlock: Problem?

John: No. Just… Are we done here?

Sherlock: [Narrows his eyes, thoughtful.] Surprisingly, not. [Stalks back to John, circling him with intensity ] This might sound crazy, but - I'm going to marry you.

John: What?! I'm sorry, first time talking to a real person?

Sherlock: No, I... Listen. I-I-I don't get it. Uh, frankly, it boggles the mind, but I've been running dozens of probability scenarios in my head since we met, and and they all end with us [INHALES] together.

John: [huffs a laugh] I have heard some lame pickup lines in my day, but…

Sherlock: I have plenty of those. Um, are you a neuro-electrical current because you've been running through my mind all day? But th-th-that's not what this is. This is going to happen, John Watson.

John: Uhm, sorry. How do you know my name?

Sherlock: I know everything. [Waves hand dismissively.] Also, your visitor pass has your name written on it.

Mike: [Giddy] I think I'm gonna pass out.

Sherlock: Right. [Types quickly on his phone.] I've just air-dropped my contact info to your phone. You just tap to accept it.

John: Uh, yeah, not… Not gonna tap that.

Sherlock: I think you will. John, there are forces in the universe that we don't understand. Measurable forces that can't be explained, but cannot be denied and that's... that's what this is. I don't get it, but I know that it's real.

John: Wow! [LAUGHING, looks to Mike then back to Sherlock] That was… You're an idiot.

Sherlock: What? No, it... You're... You're an... idiot. That's gonna stick. I'm... I'm in your head.

John: Okay.

Sherlock: You'll see.

John: Sure, git. Now try and walk away cool.

Sherlock: Oh, I will. [Winks, turns with a swish of his coat, stumbles over his own feet and fumbles the doorknob.]

John: Ohhh-kayy.

Mike: Okay? [Wiggles eyebrows.]

John: [thoughtful] Hmm. Yeah.

Chapter Text

Scene: Irene's front door. Sherlock presses the buzzer an annoying three times.

Irene: (watching him with interest from the security camera, answers over the intercome) Who do we love?

Sherlock: Irene. (buzz, buzz, buzz)

Irene: (amused, still via intercome) Who do we love?

Sherlock: Irene. (buzz, buzz, buzz)

Irene: (winks at her assistant Kate) Who do we love?

Sherlock: Irene.

Irene: (throws door open, despite the fact that she's wearing only a forest green silk robe, and it's not leaving much to the imagination) Hello, Sherlock. Come on in.

Sherlock: (makes and keeps eye contact with her, avoiding looking anywhere else) Thank you.

Irene: What’s up? (she leads him to the sitting room, pushes him into an armchair, and perches on the armrest. She takes the tea Kate offers her. Sherlock declines with a slight shake of his head)

Sherlock: I came to ask (his eye contact falters only briefly as Irene crosses her legs, the robe sliding even more precriously -- he still cannot read her) if you would like to go on a date with me.

Irene: (choking on her tea) I’m sorry, what?

Sherlock: A date. You and me. Dining, dancing, perhaps you’d like to take in a prizefight.

Irene: God, are you trying to make John jealous?

Sherlock: No. Why is everyone so obsessed with John and Mary? And whether or not they may be having more pumpkin lattes, or intercourse, tonight.

Irene: Okay, listen to me. (She stands, sets the tea aside, and wraps her robe firmly in place) Playing games is not gonna help get John back.

Sherlock: I am not trying to get him back. I cannot get something back that never was... (He hesitates) But, out of curiosity, what is a way?

Irene: All right, honey, let me tell you a story. There was a person I liked, and I never told them how I felt. Eventually, they started going out with someone else, and I always regretted it. Do you see where I’m going with this?

Sherlock: I believe I do.

Irene: Mm.

Sherlock: I’m the person.

Irene: You’re not the person.

Sherlock: Are you sure? That would explain so much. Your constant texting, that baffling dalliance with Moriarty just to be near me, the way you call me sweetie all the time.

Irene: I call everyone sweetie.

Sherlock: You tramp.

Irene: (She practically drags him from the chair to the front door) Look, Sherlock, all I’m saying is, strap on a pair and go talk to John.

Sherlock: Strap on a pair? Of what?

Irene: Oh, sweetie, (she kisses him on the cheek) you are so not the person.