-Mike, can I borrow your phone? There's no signal on mine

-But what's wrong with the land line? -I prefer to text

-Sorry, it's in my coat -Here, use mine

-Oh, thank you -He's an old friend of mine, John Watson

-Afghanistan or Irak? -Sorry?

-Which was in, Afghanistan or Irak? -Afghanistan, sorry who did you...

-Oh Molly, coffe, thank you. What happened to the lipstick?

-It wasn't working for me -Really? I thought it was a big improvement.

Your mouth is too small now. -Okay...

-How do you feel about the violin? -Sorry, what?

-I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Would it bother

you? Potencial flatmates should know the worst about each other.

-But, you told him about me? -Not a word

-Then who said anything about flatmates? -I did. Told Mike this morning that I must

be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. Now here he is, just after lunch, with an

old friend, clearly just home from military service inAfghanistan. Was not a difficult

leap. -How did you know about Afghanistan?

-Got my eye in a nice little place in central London. Together we ought to be able to afford

it. We'll meet there tomorrow evening 7 o'clock. Sorry, got to dash, I think I left my riding

crop in the mortuary. -Is that it?

-Is that what? -We've just met and we are going to look for

a flat? -Problem?

-We don't know a thing about each other, I don't know where we're meeting. I don't even

know your name. -I know you're an army doctor and you've been

invalided home from Afghanistan, and you've got a brother who's worried about you, but

you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him, possibly because he's an alcoholic,

more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know that your therapist

thinks your limp's psychosomatic, quite correctly, I'm afraid. Some of to be going on with, don't

you think? -The name's Sherlock Holmes, and the address

is 221B Baker Street. Afternoon.