Anderson, don't talk out loud. You lower the IQ of the whole street!

— Shut up.
— I didn't say anything.
— You were thinking. It's annoying.

Bitterness is a paralytic. Love is a much more vicious motivator.

You want to hide a tree, then the forest is the best place to do it.

Look at that, Mrs Hudson. Quiet. Calm. Peaceful. Isn't it hateful?

— I need to get some air. We're going out tonight.
— Actually I've got a date.
— What?
— It's where two people who like each other go out and have fun.
— That's what I was suggesting.
— No it wasn't. At least I hope not.

— I will burn the heart out of you.
— I have been reliably informed that I don't have one.

— So why are you talking to me?
— Mrs Hudson took my skull.
— So I'm basically filling in for your skull?
— Relax, you're doing fine.

— No, no, no! Course he's not the boy's father. Look at turn-ups on his jeans!
— I knew it was dangerous. Getting you into crap telly.

— Run! Take my hand.
— Now people will definitely talk.

Sally came round for a nice little chat and just happened to stay over. And I assume she scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees.

— There are lives at stake, Sherlock. Actual human lives! Just so I know, do you care about that at all?
— Will caring about them help save them?
— Nope.
— Then I'll continue not to make that mistake.

— No, I know you for real.
— 100 percent?
— Well, nobody could fake being such an annoying dick all the time.

— If this woman's death was suspicious, why point it up?
— Good Samaritan.
— Who press-gangs suicide bombers?
— Bad Samaritan.