[There is almost always a childish quality to Sherlock. Particularly in deductions that are not essential to cases. Henry Knight, for instance, whom Sherlock had been ready to dismiss almost the moment he entered the flat. Or the motorist who had solicited his help after a hiker had mysteriously died. Or the men from Buckingham.
Agent Booth was no different.
Sherlock looks at John at the elbow. He started it, the replying expression says, though he doesn't speak.
He's about to. About to go into all the reasons why Booth deserved exactly what he'd gotten and, if he'd like to continue this, more than he could deliver. Temperance's movement catches his eye, and he turns his head toward it-- perfectly timed to catch the full force of the punch in the opposite direction.
He staggers, bringing his hand up to touch the spot.
[action]
Agent Booth was no different.
Sherlock looks at John at the elbow. He started it, the replying expression says, though he doesn't speak.
He's about to. About to go into all the reasons why Booth deserved exactly what he'd gotten and, if he'd like to continue this, more than he could deliver. Temperance's movement catches his eye, and he turns his head toward it-- perfectly timed to catch the full force of the punch in the opposite direction.
He staggers, bringing his hand up to touch the spot.
I could cut myself...
Well, at least she didn't slap him.]