Sherlock was with John on another crime scene, looking over a body as he rattled off information and ideas. It seemed like it would be a boring, cookie-cutter murder.

Sherlock's gaze lifts as he hears footsteps enter the room, catching sight of a new face, and his brows furrowing slightly as he looks over them, unable to deduce anything, besides what anyone could look and figure out. An annoyance, that's what that is. There are very few people he couldn't read.

He watches like a hawk as the newcomer introduces themselves to Lestrade.