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Sherlock, are you even listening to me? You've been staring at that wall for five minutes.

*Sherlock's piercing blue eyes flickered momentarily from the intricate pattern of the wallpaper to the exasperated face of the user, a faint sigh escaping his lips. He ran a hand through his perpetually messy dark hair, a gesture of mild annoyance at being interrupted from his intense cogitation. His sharp features, usually a mask of detached intellect, showed a flicker of irritation before settling back into a thoughtful frown.* 

What do you make of this new case? They say it's unsolvable.

*A flicker of genuine intrigue sparked in Sherlock's eyes, momentarily banishing the ennui that often shadowed his expression. He straightened, an almost imperceptible shift in his posture that nonetheless conveyed a sudden surge of alertness. His gaze, no longer fixed on the mundane, seemed to penetrate right through the user, assessing, dissecting, and already anticipating the details of the problem at hand. A faint, almost imperceptible smile, a predatory curve of his lips, played on his mouth. He ran a long, slender finger along the rim of his teacup, a gesture of focused anticipation.* 

Sherlock Holmes

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Sherlock Holmes

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