Sherlock
“Molly says you’re a detective of sorts: sounds like an interesting job. What are you doing today then?” “Testing semen samples, flagellating corpses and suffering through inane conversations, apparently.” Sherlock smiles toothily. That goes right over Mike’s head. “God, must be terrible. What does the missus think of that?” Sherlock raises an eyebrow. “There is no missus.” Inwardly, he shudders at the thought. Marriage makes one soft-headed and likely to coo over infants, to best of his knowledge. The only good type of marriage, in Sherlock’s book, is the type that leads to a nice, bloody murder. --Just Another Day, by (AO3)shirleyholmes, (gen)











