#dialogue rules

I was tagged by @jbaillier to post the first lines of my last 20 fics and see if there are similarities. Here you go:

“For God’s sake, Anderson, leave me alone!”

Sherlock scanned the nappy display, scowling at images of infants who looked happy but were clearly inferior to Alice, who was home with her father, probably shrieking her head off because it was time for her next feeding.

“Where is it?”

Mary turned her key in the lock and pushed the door open, knocking as she did so, which was silly because she had lived here as long as John.

“John.”

This was not at all what Mycroft had expected.

Sherlock paused in the doorway to the kitchen.

John had to help guide Sherlock out of the lift into their flat; the door was apparently too narrow for Sherlock’s coat to fit through, though John’s wheelchair could pass without a problem.

“He’s going to know.”

Sherlock pushed open the door to his old bedroom and stopped dead.

“What the hell is wrong with you, freak?”

The day after his mother’s funeral, Sherlock brought her jewelry box back to Baker Street.

For three months after Mary died, John refused to help Sherlock on any cases.

“Sherlock, are you sure about this?”

Sherlock slipped into the bed, forcing John to slide to the middle and Mary to scoot dangerously close to the edge.

John is fine at Sherlock’s funeral.

“How bad is it?”

Mary opened the door to find Sally Donovan standing on her front stoop.

Mary pressed both hands against her stomach, inhaled, and stepped into Sherlock’s hospital room.

“Yes, yes, you’ve said.”