William Sherlock Scott Holmes

They say that genius is an infinite capacity for taking pains. It’s a very bad definition, but it does apply to detective work.

if you agree with the outcome of the mike brown case or even are “on the fence” or “neutral” about it, unfollow me.

"Are you still moping because I didn’t give you that file?"

"I was able to solve the case without the file. No thanks to you, of course."

  "You tell me that every year and it never gets proven. If I get Ebola I’ll let you know." She said sweetly and crunched through the snow to the passenger side of the car before getting in and shutting herself into the warmth.

Ah yes that was just perfect. He was back from quiet and slow to his usual self. That was the biggest comfort of all and it enlightened her heart like noting else in the world could manage.

She say there with a pleased smile, despite everything that was going on but she assumed this was only a good thing. Another thing that came to mind was intimacy. What if she showed that toward Moriarty in front of Sherlock? Would he break? God knows. She was slightly panicking about that.

Once Sherlock was in he car she gave a heavy sigh and leaned he head back against the seat. “You know he’s not exactly my boyfriend right?” She spoke up bravely.

Sherlock laughed gently as he pulled the car out of the spot behind the garage and turned to head onto the street. It was odd for him, driving a vehicle. Living in London for the past several years, he hadn't much felt a need. It had been over a decade since he'd last driven (not including the test to renew his license). Still, the controls and pedals beneath him felt familiar as ever as the car crunched smoothly through the snow and onto the pavement.

"You know John isn't exactly my boyfriend either, right?" There was no sarcasm in his tone, but the raven-haired detective was smiling widely as he coasted down the hill and to an intersection. Driving as if he knew exactly where to go, the genius didn't even pause to ask Elizabeth if they were headed in the correct direction. He made a note of turning the radio off.

"What is he then?" Sherlock asked after a few moments of silence. Curiosity had gotten the better of him. He'd always assumed that the relationship between his sister and the consulting criminal had been one of pure romantic intent. If there was something else behind that face model they'd proposed, Sherlock would certainly want to know of it.

The Best Man