Another moment - from "The Blind Banker". Not quite sure how in character it is, since we don't see enough of . . . him to judge just what his character is.

Sherlock Holmes. The one-and-only Consulting Detective.

Detective Inspector Dimmock had been warned about him. Mostly by Sergeant Donovan, and mostly involving the word freak. Naturally, he'd ignored her. He'd been under the impression that he was the police, and therefore in authority, and that his crime scenes were sacrosanct.

Perhaps he should have paid more attention to Sally Donovan after all.

He was standing now at the back of the canteen at St Bart's, wondering just what the hell he was doing. Whether he actually meant himself or Sherlock Holmes was anyone's guess.

Holmes was at the front of the canteen, talking with a very pretty young woman, who apparently was the pathologist. Dimmock hadn't really met her before, but he thought her name was Harper, or Harley, or Hatley – something beginning with H, anyway. Holmes was supposed to be proving that the two suicides – yes, alright, the two murders – were connected to a gang of Chinese hoodlums. Unless this young lady was part of the gang, then Dimmock had no idea how on earth she'd be able to help.

And considering the look she was giving Holmes, she wasn't going to be of help.

Shaking his head, Dimmock got ready to go, already planning on the scathing words he'd use to cut Holmes down to size. Take his word as gospel, indeed! Dimmock snorted to himself.

Except . . . Holmes' face suddenly underwent such a drastic change of expression that Dimmock just gaped at him. Donovan – in between her spitting disgust – had told him about this man's ability to deduce everything about a person in one look. Lestrade, and even some of the other officers, had agreed with her. Admittedly, Dimmock could actually believe them, considering just how fast Holmes had taken apart his crime scene at the city boy's flat.

If the young lady knew Holmes as well – or at least for as long – as Holmes had implied, then why didn't she appear to notice the painful-looking attempt at surprise? Dimmock inched closer to try and hear what Holmes was saying.

"—used to have a part in the middle," Holmes said. "It – it's nice; it suits you."

There is no way in hell she's going to fall for that load of bollocks, Dimmock thought. Anybody could see the look of pleasant surprise was blatantly false, and the effort of making small talk – and pleasant small talk at that – was almost cringe inducing.

No doubt Holmes had seen the change in hairstyle the moment he'd spotted the girl, and had dismissed it as relevant to him in no way whatsoever. Surely the woman was much too smart to be taken in by Holmes' absolutely pathetic acting skills.

"Oh, um, well . . ."

Unbelievably, the woman smiled, blushed, and raised her hand halfway to her hair, before giving Holmes a blinding smile and turning her head away in pleased embarrassment.

"Well, I, er, I suppose, just this once—" she stammered, and although she didn't notice it as she turned away, Dimmock noticed how the forced expression instantly dropped from Holmes' face, and he even quickly checked his watch before she glanced at him again.

Holmes gave him a cocky grin over his shoulder as he followed the girl, and Dimmock shook his head as he trailed behind.

Having a crush on Sherlock Holmes was just asking to get your heart broken.