— Shut up.
— I didn't say anything.
— You were thinking. It's annoying.
— I will burn the heart out of you.
— I have been reliably informed that I don't have one.
— So why are you talking to me?
— Mrs Hudson took my skull.
— So I'm basically filling in for your skull?
— Relax, you're doing fine.
— No, no, no! Course he's not the boy's father. Look at turn-ups on his jeans!
— I knew it was dangerous. Getting you into crap telly.
— No, I know you for real.
— 100 percent?
— Well, nobody could fake being such an annoying dick all the time.
What now? I'm in shock — look, I've got a blancket. And I just caught you a serial killer.
— That was the doorbell. Couldn't you hear it?
— It's in the fridge. It kept ringing.
— Oh, that's not a fault, Sherlock!
— Now, serviettes... Swan or Sydney Opera House?
— Where did you learn that?
— Many skills are required in the field of criminal investigation.
— Fibbing, Sherlock.
— I once broke an alibi by demonstrating the exact severity of a fold...
— I'm not John, I can tell when you're fibbing.
— OK, I learn it on YouTube.
— Don't staring.
— You're staring!
— We can't both stare.