Sherlock Holmes

I've certainly been called worse. #FourthWall

The human /body/, however, is an entirely different story. One that I have dedicated a large portion of my life to.

Such a thing as a psychic is a preposterous. If the human mind could be read like a book, the world would be in anarchy.

*Punctual as usual, Holmes arrives at the restaurant an hour from the time of receiving @EtherealWeapon's text, weather eye cast out for --

Predators, preying on each and every juicy secret they can seek out and squeezing them for all that they're worth.

/Gods/, I hate the media.

*Sighs, retrieving his phone to text @EtherealWeapon.* One murderer and black market dealer: caught. Celebratory Chinese? SH

Oh, /damn/. High profile. The press are going to be insufferable for the next day or two.

-- parting remark to Darren as he is handcuffed.* As you can see, Mr, Goodall, not even the dead can be silenced.

*Passing off the phone to one of the officers, Sherlock turns up the collar of his Belstaff and begins his exit, but not without a --

-- off the premises, would you?

-- as interested as I have. Gentlemen! *In come two of London's finest at Sherlock's call.* Do see to it that Mr. Goodall is escorted --

-- satisfaction on his face.* You know, I am /ever/ so glad Jane sent a message to the website. Otherwise, I might not have been /half/ --

-- could this be? Surely not the knife that killed Jane hiding in /your/ desk? *He pops back up into view then, a smirk of grim --

-- gets on his knees then to unlock the desk drawer beside him, opening it up with a noise of surprise at its contents.* Now, /whatever/ --

I /also/, *he continues in his usual voice, dangling a key from his finger,* retrieved /this/. Which, if I'm not mistaken... *Sherlock --

-- mate, I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't recognise me. I did have me face covered at the time.

-- /obviously/. Don't you remember when we bumped into one another in the toilets? *Then, in a flawless Liverpuldian accent.* Of course, --

"Where did you get that?!" *The question comes like the crack of a whip, all save Sherlock flinching at it.* From your pocket, --