Sherlock POV
"Well, we have an appointment at noon –"
Joan sits at the table with an apple, a plate and a knife. Clearly, she's planning to peel it before eating it, but I can't imagine why she would go through all that effort just to eat an apple, when you could just bite into it, get the bitter with the sweet.
"– so plan your hunt around that."
She must be joking.
"No. We visited the house of bromides yesterday. I am no longer required to suffocate at the alter of recovery everyday."
With a kidnapper at large, she suggests putting time aside for a dalliance with addicts. I wonder if all sober companions have this skewed sense of priority.
"You are when your ex drug dealer is living with us. So, you wanted me to work harder? This is working harder."
Damn. I've forgotten that she has a knack for quoting me, back to me; I will have to mind my words next time.
"Fine. I suppose they might find the case of the Blue Carbuncle entertaining."
The case had been interesting only in the finer details, but surely the populace could appreciate the telling of a good story.
"No, you are not going to talk about some old case, you're going to share something real about your —"
She pauses. I look up from the phone, and its excruciatingly dull content, wondering at her silence; she's noticed the cut on my cheek, I see.
"Hmm.. he really got you, huh?"
Her genuine concern is touching, but needless worrying is not something I will encourage.
"The man had a cover to protect, I hold nothing against him."
Although, the punches to the abdomen had been enough to make me want to spend a substantial amount of time with a large wooden stick and his pate.
"I'm going to put some antiseptic on that."
I see what has become of the apple only after she has left the table; for an ex-surgeon, Joan is incapable of decent peeling, but one has to consider that she has had years off that practice. Best not be wasteful. I take a piece of the "peel" and bite into it – the bitter with the sweet.