Elementary doesn't belong to me.

You're Perfect


"You're perfect," Sherlock repeats and Watson turns to stare at him. "I mean it," he continues. "You are."

"I don't have time for this," Watson stands up and starts to make her way to her room, wondering why she had even bothered to stop and to talk to him, as if talking to him could make the situation much better.

"I see that you don't believe me," Sherlock said, turning off the TV, which he'd been pretending to watch, and looking at her squarely in the face.

"Why should I? She asked him, "You're just being a typical man, telling me I'm perfect so that you don't have to deal with whatever comes."

"First of all, I am not like those other men," she's known that that would tick him off, "secondly, compared to Tom Russell, you Watson, are perfect, you have a successful career. What am I saying, you've had a successful career as a doctor and even now as a companion, you could afford to have your own home if your chose, you could be anything, and you are not too slow on the uptake."

"Thank you very much," she said drily.

"In addition to that, you look much better in a dress than he ever has or could."


He tossed her his phone and showed her some pictures. Watson scrolled through them and burst out laughing. "How..? I don't even think I want to know. So he's a …?"


"Honestly, what's wrong with me?" Watson asked. "Why do I always find the weirdest men?"

"I think if you w -."

"I don't want to hear this," she interrupted him.

"Fine," he was unoffended. "Like I was pointing out, Watson, you are perfect, but of course you can't absolutely be perfect in every way."

She glared at him.

"I mean, if you did try not to do exactly that," he told her. "People respond to smiles and friendly faces."

"As if you would know anything about that."

"And," Watson was able to enter her room but she couldn't resist stopping to hear his last words, "you really should do something about pointing out other people's mistakes. It's really annoying."


Sherlock looked at the clock; he knew that he had angered her, but he needed her angry if she was going to help him, two minutes passed and Watson came back downstairs, Sherlock bit back a smile.

"Okay, where's that slime, Johnny Fisher?"