Sherlock, Series 1

John:
[Looking around at the morgue's lab equipment] Bit different from my day.

Mike:
You've no idea.

Sherlock:
Mike, can I borrow your phone? There's no signal on mine.

Mike:
And what's wrong with the landline?

Sherlock:
I prefer to text.

Mike:
Sorry, it's in my coat.

John:
Er, here, use mine.

Sherlock:
Oh, thank you.

Mike:
This is an old friend of mine, John Watson.

Sherlock:
Afghanistan or Iraq?

John:
Sorry?

Sherlock:
Which one was it? In Afghanistan or Iraq?

John:
Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you...?

[Molly enters]

Sherlock:
Ah, Molly, coffee, thank you. What happened to the lipstick?

Molly:
It wasn't working for me.

Sherlock:
Really? I thought it was a big improvement. Your mouth's too small now.

Molly:
...Okay.

Sherlock:
How do you feel about the violin?

John:
I'm sorry, what?

Sherlock:
I play the violin when I'm thinking and sometime I don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other.

John:
You told him about me?

Mike:
Not a word.

John:
Then who says anything about flatmates?

Sherlock:
I did. Told Mike this morning I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. Now here he is, just after lunch, with an old friend clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. Wasn't a difficult leap.

John:
How did you know about Afghanistan?

Sherlock:
Got my eyes on a nice little place in central London, we ought to be able to afford it. We'll meet there tomorrow evening seven o'clock. Sorry, got to dash, I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary.

John:
Is that it?

Sherlock:
Is that what?

John:
We've only just met, and we're going to go and look at a flat?

Sherlock:
Problem?

John:
We don't know a thing about each other. I don't know where we're meeting, I don't even know your name.

Sherlock:
I know you're an Army doctor, and you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. You've got a brother worried about you, but you won't go to him for help, because you don't approve of him, possibly because he's an alcoholic, more likely because he recently walked out on his wife, and I know your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic, quite correctly, I'm afraid. That's enough to be going on with, don't you think? The name is Sherlock Holmes, and the address is 221B Baker Street. Afternoon.

[He leaves. John glances at Mike.]

Mike:
Yeah, he's always like that.