"Sherlock, an angel?" Emma said, being the first to break the strange silence that had fallen over the group. "I can guarantee you, that is about as possible as me being the Virgin Mary."
"Although it pains me to admit it, Emma's right," Sherlock said, letting out a small sigh.
"Thank you...sort of," Emma said. She was getting used to this sort of thing from the man who lived in the flat above her. At least when it came to Sherlock Holmes, she knew that he thought himself superior to everyone and not just her.
"I agree, Sherlock is definitely not an angel," John said. "I think we would have known by now," he continued, letting out a little laugh to try and lighten everything up. But the mood was a bit too tense for all of that.
"As you can see, there are three of us who do not believe I am an angel against one stranger, you, who believes I am," Sherlock said, folding his hands in front of him. "As if the answer wasn't obvious to begin with, you now have evidence that I am not an angel."
"No, you are an angel," Sofiel insisted. As she leaned forwards to push forwards her point, several pieces of hair came cascading over her shoulder as well. She pulled them back, wanting to maintain full eye contact with Sherlock whenever possible. "You have to be an angel, it's the only possible explanation."
"I highly doubt that," Sherlock replied, rolling his eyes slightly. "There are always more than one explanation to begin with, and you appear to have created one out of thin air."
"Explanation for what?" Emma said, holding a pillow against her chest. She was positively bursting to find out what was going on. Never had she witnessed a visitor in 221B who was just so flat out interesting. Whenever she hung around, there only seemed to be boring people. But on this day there was an American teenager claiming that the consulting detective was actually a heavenly being? She couldn't wait to see what John would write about this on his blog.
"His deductive reasoning powers," Sofiel said. "Such massive intellectual ability is simply not human."
"Oh, I could have told you that much," Emma said, stifling a snort.
"This is no joke," Sofiel said. She whipped around and stared daggers towards Emma. In fear that the teenage girl would pull out a real dagger on her, she immediately silenced herself and went back to holding the pillow against her.
"And Sherlock being an angel will explain that?" John said. He tilted his head slightly as he allowed the cogs in his mind to start turning again. "I always thought it was some sort of weird gene, because Mycroft is pretty clever too-"
"Don't share my entire family's business with a complete stranger," Sherlock said, cutting him off. "Whatever it is that makes me able to deduce things is not of importance, and it most certainly has nothing to do with angels."
"It has everything to do with angels," Sofiel snapped in response. "It must be. It must be."
"Angel statues?" Emma said, bringing up the topic of her strange experience in...