Disclaimer: I own none of the Sherlocks or Watsons or Stamfords.
"The name is Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street." He was mid-wink when I interrupted.
"I'm sorry, what was the address?" He gave me a look that indicated he was not one for being thrown off mid-stride.
"221 B Baker Stre-"
'Wait-wait, I'll need to write this down.' He rolled his eyes in a way that conveyed that he had never written down anything that he needed to remember, ever. He quickly ran over to a shelf behind me and handed me a pen and paper. I looked at him expectantly. He stared oblivious.
"Umm, can you repeat that?"
"Oh, you need it repeated already." He looked like he wanted to make further comments on my inability, but refrained when he saw the look I was giving him. "It is 221B-"
"D as in Daniel?"
Exasperated sigh, "No B as in BOY." Baker, B-A-K-E-R street. And the name is Sherlock Holmes."
"Spelled like Girl?"
"What?"
"Your name is it S-H-I-R-L-"
"No!" He interjected. "S-H-E-R-L"
"And the last bit is spelled like Loch as in Loch Ness?"
"Lock as in lock a door." He ground out.
"Ah great thanks again, nice to meet you, Mr. Homes!" I said as I limped out.
When I had left Sherlock simply stared at Mike Stamford, who shrugged and said, "Yeah, he's always like that."