— He's got on with his life.
— What life? I've been away.
— 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.
— What sort of case?
— Too big and dangerous for any sane individual to get involved in.
— Yo trying to put me off?
— God, no. Trying to recruit you.
Sometimes a deception is so audacious, so outrageous that you can't see it even when it's staring you in the face.
— If I try and hug him, stop me.
— Certainly not.
When John first broached the subject of being best man, I was confused. I confess at first I didn't realise he was asking me. When finally I understood, I expressed to him that I was both flattered and surprised. I explained to him that I'd never expected this request and I was a little daunted in the face of it. I nonetheless promised I would do my very best to accomplish a task which was, for me, as demanding and difficult as any I had ever contemplated. Additionally, I thanked him for the trust he placed in me and indicated that I was, in some ways, very closed to being moved by it. It later transpired that I'd said none of this out loud.
Interesting thing, a tuxedo. Lends distinction to friends and anonymity to waiters.
— Sherlock, please tell me you haven't just gone out of your mind.
— I'd rather keep you quessing.
— That takes me back. "Don't be smart, Sherlock, I'm the smart one."
— I am the smart one.
— I used to think I was an idiot.
— Both of us thought you were an idiot, Sherlock.
— We had nothing else to go on, until we met other children.
— Oh, yes, that was a mistake. Ghastly. What were they thinking off?
— Probably something about trying to make friends.
— Oh, yes. Friends. Of course, you go in for that sort of thing now.
— And you don't? Ever?
— If you seem slow to me, Sherlock, can you imagine what real people are like? I'm living in a world of goldfish.
— Yes, but I've been away for two years.
— So?
— Oh, I don't know, I thought perhaps you must have found yourself a... goldfish.
— I have your contact details. I will be monitoring.
— They're right about you. You're a bloody psychopath.
— High functioning sociopath, with your number.