His skinny jeans make the odds of a concealed firearm quite slim.

Sherlock

Wouldn't want to separate the guns from the wine.

Sherlock

Sherlock: We've been taking things slow.
Joan: ...You haven't had sex yet.
Sherlock: We have not.

If you're keen on spending eternity buried alive with a group so narcissistic they think outliving humanity is a good idea, I'd rather melt with the masses and get it over with, wouldn't you?

Sherlock

There are two things you should know, Mr. Springer. First is I'm gonna punch you in the face. [punches him in the face] Second is that we'll take your case.

Sherlock

So they didn't commit a murder so much as provide you with a murder-tunity.

Sherlock

Perhaps it entered your mind subconsciously. Were your dreams filled with two flounders slapping together? A ketchup bottle being squeezed repeatedly whilst a nearby walrus issues a death rattle?

Sherlock [to Joan, on the neighbor's noisy sex]

I was just marveling at how you were able to sleep so soundly last night given the incessant sex noise.

Sherlock

Ben Garrett: How do you do all that?
Sherlock: I was bitten by a radioactive detective.

Sherlock: It occurred to me that our Ranger might've been killed by an obsessed fan attempting to recreate a particular death.
Joan: And?
Sherlock: Unfortunately, the deaths in the comics involve being sent back in time, buried underground, made microscopic, impersonated by an alien, and in my particular favorite demise, pushed over a waterfall, locked in the embrace of his nemesis.

It's pretty hard to say no to someone who just donated a quarter of a million dollars to a charity I care about. But that was the whole point, right?

Joan

The flesh-and-blood Midnight Ranger was shot dead last night. Unfortunately, the bullets used were not radioactive, so he'll be remaining quite dead.

Sherlock