I walked into a yarn shop once. This is what I came out with.
John was fighting to keep himself awake, and it seemed the more he tried the more tired he became. He was so sleepy, with nothing to keep him awake and so utterly-
"Bored."
"Wh-what?" John asked, snapping awake. Did Sherlock just speak or was his mind playing tricks on him?
"I'm bored," Sherlock repeated, reclining in his chair.
John stared back at the consulting detective, eyebrows creased. Well then. That's that. So he's bored as well. Proves he's still got some humanity in him.
"Deduction," Sherlock snapped his fingers.
"Um, yeah. You do that a lot, don't you?" John asked, severely confused.
"It's a game. Mycroft and I used to play it. I haven't for a while."
I'd bet so, since you disappeared for two years.
"Here," Sherlock threw a hand-knit scarf at John. "What can you deduct?"
John caught the scarf, staring at it. To him, it was a scarf. "Well, it's um, knitted."
Sherlock snatched it from John's hands. "No, no. You're doing it wrong."
"Well you didn't really tell me what I'm supposed to say," John pointed out.
Sherlock glared at John, opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, perhaps thinking of a better solution. "Well, this scarf was knit with size 6 needles. Like that." He threw the scarf back at John.
Oh, so you want those complicated deductions. Okay then.
"Well, um, this scarf was manufactured in California," John said slowly, after a very long time of consideration. He tossed it back to Sherlock.
"You're slow, but at least you can deduce something," Sherlock muttered, then cleared his throat. "This scarf took three weeks, and was hand-knit by a sixty-four year old woman."
How does he do that? John stared at the scarf that was now in his hands. He turned it over repeatedly, squinting his eyes to examine better. "The sheep was from Albania."
The detective caught the scarf. "No, no. It's from New Zealand."
John paused nervously. "Um, is it?"
Sherlock lifted the scarf to his face, blue-green eyes skittering across every stitch. He took a deep sniff, and began to travel the depths of his "mind palace."
Throughout all this John squirmed uncomfortably, a small frown etching his concern.
"It's from Albania," Sherlock decided.
John became even more squeamish. "So..."
Sherlock stared deep into John's eyes, like he could read minds... It was like he could assess souls just by staring into their eyes-
"Well done."
John snapped out of his thoughts, frowning. Sherlock walked over to him, so that they were less than a foot apart. He started forward as to embrace John, then suddenly changed to a quick clap on the shoulder.
"Well done indeed," Sherlock mused. He strided out of the room, scarf in hand flowing behind him. He quickly opened his laptop, fingers skittering across the keyboard. On the screen, images of sheep from different places popped up- searching up how to tell apart different kinds of wool.
John stared after Sherlock, tilting his head. He paused, then took a small breath.
"Next time, you might want to cut the tag," John called.
At least now Sherlock has the sheep knowledge to beat Mycroft later in the episode. Review, maybe?