"Yes, everyone is so strangely disappointed." He pulled himself up, sitting, glowering over at the guy that put a boot to his chest. James Bond, bodyguard. Sherlock's distinctive curls still rested on his forehead.

"Is there a reason you're so determined to make sure I don't sleep? Is this some boring form of intimidation or torture? I've been living as Sherlock. Please. I can go days without it."