Wrong Deduction
"How much did it cost?" Sherlock asked me when I finally got home.
"Ten pounds," I replied without denying, and I felt how hotness rising in my face. Does this guy really have to know everything? Can man at least have a bit of privacy for his bit of awkwardness?
"Hooker was a damn cheap. Are you sure, that she didn't infect you?" the detective said coldly, and I blinked in confusion.
"What? What hooker?"
"You have clay on your shoes, which is only found in Kensington Gardens, smells of cheap perfume, and you have a bruise on your neck. Since Rose garden of Miss Street is not far from the park, it isn't hard to deduce where you were," he explained his deduction, and for once I wasn't amazed, but on the contrary, I wanted to laugh. Sherlock was absolutely wrong. Confuse a sweet moment in a woman's arms for an accident with a shelf in a tobacconist, to which I shortened my way through the park... Well, we all make mistakes.