That feeling where not a single word is written down but in your head you’re already on Chapter 37… of book two.
*shopping for Mycroft’s new desk*
Mycroft: What do you think?
Greg: *examining the desks* Just thinking about which one you’d look the best bent ove-
Mycroft: *slaps hand over Greg’s mouth*
sherlock: you’re my clever boy
john: no you’re MY clever boy
sherlock: no YOU’RE my cl-
greg: if you’re going to do this during a police press conference can you at least turn your mics off