Sherlock and Joan iconos

They both sat in Gregson's office as they questioned Oscar about the drug dealer, they hadn't dicho a word to each other since leaving the brownstone. Sherlock could tell when she was annoyed with him, he had seen that look many times. He moved closer to her and buried his face in her hair.
'Joan, please, talk to me.' He kissed her shoulder. 'I'm sorry.'
She sighed.
'I know tu are, but you've been keeping más secrets from me first it was Irene, then your brother now this. How many más can i expect?'
'No more.'
'You sure about that.' He placed his forehead on her shoulder, not wanting to look in...

Sherlock saw at least 3 different exits from where he stood but all were to far to hatch an escape attempt that wouldn't involve a casuality. He knew what is was like to be shot but didn't want to experience it again. He checked his watch it was ten to eight, he needed to send a signal to Gregson but how? He looked round him for something that could help, he noticed a button the right hand side of the muro which could be the buildings old whistle to alert the men work was finished. But getting to it would prove to be a challenge.

'Which one of tu is lying?'
'Micheal we've been doing buisness...

Sherlock woke early and went into Joseph's room. He stood over his cot and watched him sleep. He took one of his hands in his, he was so small. He looked out the window at New York, thinking about the trail ahead of him. He thought he'd be around to see him grow up, it looks far less likely now. He didn't hear Joan come in.
'Hey, it's early.'
'I couldn't sleep.' Joan looked down at Joseph. 'Been thinking about things.'
'Sherlock, tu have nothing to worry about. They jury will see though her lies.'
'We hope.' Sherlock picked him up. 'I'd hate to leave tu two.'
'You won't.' Sherlock smiled at her...

'What are tu doing here?'
'Can't a guy drop por and say hello?'
Sherlock stepped outside, shutting the door behind him.
'When the guy happens to be a current drug addict, no he can't.'
'You're one to talk.'
'I've been clean for almost 3 years.'
'Well congrats to you(!)' Oscar looked up at the brownstone. 'Nice place, daddy buy it for you?'
'He did.'
'You on your own?' Sherlock held up his left hand. 'Your married?'
'Almost two years.'
'Does she know about your past? Irene? The drugs?'
'She knows it all. Now, what do tu want?'
'I was hoping for a fix.'
'Not likely, now if tu excuse me.' Sherlock went...