"Would you, please, stop doing that?" John hissed and nodded at Sherlock's hand nervously tapping the armrest. The detective snorted, and even though John couldn't see him do so in the dark of the cinema, he knew his friend was sulking. He bit back the laughter that had built up in his chest and delved into the bag of popcorn. This was rather enjoyable.
"I want to go," Sherlock said what felt only minutes later.
"What? Why?" John whispered back, "You can't just walk out of the cinema. It's not done."
"Watch me," Sherlock threatened.
"Alright. Calm down. Maybe if you took some popcorn."
"I don't want popcorn. I want to go!"
"Shhh," a woman behind the detective was shaking her head in disbelief.
"Shut up," the young man muttered and turned to John, "This is ridiculous. Tell me why I'm here."
"To enjoy yourself. This film is about you! Well, us. I like it," John explained patiently. He knew that Sherlock was rolling his eyes at the explanation.
"I don't. I've seen enough. Let's go."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm Jude Law. Jude Law is me. That's quite flattering."
"Well, I'm short, I'm American, and I'm fat. I don't find that flattering at all!"
"Could you, please, keep your voice down?" the woman queried, but Sherlock just ignored her while John was muttering some polite apology.
"I haven't made a single deduction. So how is that me?"
"He's unpredictable. He plays the violin. And he broods."
"That description would fit about everyone with a brain."
"He lives at 221B," John added, "and he's an addict."
"I'm not an addict!"
"But you were."
"Everyone was," Sherlock snarked before sighing, "And why are we in the 19th century?"
"I told you! It's an adaptation. They take our adventures-"
"Adventures!"
"Cases - and translate them into the Victorian period."
"God! Why would they want to do that?"
"Hasn't been done before?"
"And with good reason. Let's go!"