𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄, sherlock holmes

𝐗𝐕 . . . SHE'S GERMAN YOU SEE!

          SHERLOCK HOLMES WAS A MAN OF very few emotions with a weak concept of social cues, while having the knowledge of every word in the English Dictionary at his disposal to inflict his often correct and seldom wanted opinions upon those in his vicinity.

          He knew his deductions were often unwanted ( as Poppy had made clear when they got into the cab and he suddenly spewed out the other profession the driver had on the side ) but when his brain computed information and fed it to different rooms in his 'mind palace', Sherlock found his mouth ran out of his control and he blurted out details and facts without much control, often at incredible speeds.

          And the thing was, he didn't think there was anything to turn it off without depending on what John would call a 'recreational high'. Unless there was a case, and during that time Sherlock had a one track mind that focussed on the solution and the solution only, hence Poppy being forced to sit awkwardly next to him in the cab making a beeline for the bank. They were only going to cut through and pick up John, who'd left the flat to do the food shopping.

          Poppy sat with one leg crossed over the other with her ankles tangled together, as she tapped her fingers rhythmically atop her bouncing knee while resting her forehead on the cool glass of the cab windows. "You could do with a hair cut." His voice cut through the silence, and Poppy remained in the same position hoping that she'd simply misheard.

          But when she felt him reach forwards to examine a few strands of hair that had previously been sat hanging off her shoulder, Poppy turned around slowly to look at him with a glare set hard into her features. "What did you just say?"

          "I said, you could do with a hair cut. You've got hundreds of split ends, look." At this, Sherlock shoved the hair into her face and Poppy batted it away. "Get off. If I wanted advice on what to do with my hair I would have paid money to a hairdresser to give it, and not asked you. Your hair's like a birds nest and you don't see me complaining."

          "And with what money would you be paying this hypothetical professional with? As far as I've seen, you haven't entered Speedy's once since calling on my door, and I'm not stupid."

          "I never said you were."

          "But neither are you. So, I'll ask again. Where are you getting your money from? Are we running an underground drug cartel? Or is it more boring and do we have saved funds from mummy and daddy."

          "It isn't either of them, Marple. I'm surprised you haven't figured it out for yourself, what with your arrogant intelligence flitting in when it's not wanted."

          Sherlock ignored Poppy's deliberate stab at his intellectuality and instead chose to focus on something else. "Must you call me 'Marple' all of the time?"