Scene: John has been trying to feed Sherlock for a week now and it's been unsuccessful. Sherlock's roots haven't started to grow yet.
John: *walking into the room, carrying a few bags of blood* You don't look so good.
Sherlock: *lying down on the couch* I'm quite all right, thank you.
John: You need to eat.
Sherlock: I had a finger two weeks ago.
John: *frustrated* All right, that's enough!
Sherlock: *shocked, sits up*
John: I've tried being patient, but goddamn it! They said if I fed you blood-which I've been trying to do-you'd be my willing slave! Just like Twoey!
Sherlock: *exasperated* Look, John, that's not Two's goal...
John: And I'm not that demanding!
Sherlock: Could've fooled me.
John: *glares* Look, Sherlock. All I'm asking for is just enough money to live off of. I don't know how you plants..."deliver," but please, oh please? For me?
Sherlock: *softens as he deduces John's intentions* All right. I can deliver. If it's money you want, *nods to the table* take my card.
John: *happily grabs it and offers a blood bag to Sherlock.*
Sherlock: *holds it awkwardly a few feet out in front of him*
John: What?
Sherlock: Ew.
John: What's 'ew'?
Sherlock: First of all, *indicating the slimy blood bag* it's cold.
John: Oh.
Sherlock: Second of all, I don't know if you noticed, but I don't really look like Two.
John: No. Despite the green and the occasional leaf, you're human.
Sherlock: Yes. I am. Two poisoned me, and now I'm part plant. That's why I won't indulge my horrible appetite for human flesh. I don't want to run the rusk of fully becoming a plant.
John: Oh. But what about the corpses you nibbled at?
Sherlock: Well, while I was out on the streets, I had to keep myself from fainting. Disgusting, but it had to be done. If I were to lose conscious, someone would surely see and report.
John: Oh.
Sherlock: Don't feed me, John. Please.
