[ let him labour under false assumptions if he must. she cannot give him the truth. it may splinter everything. simply the way he looks at her now nearly does it to her. ]

Sapione. And no, this is not some mystery for you to solve—anything I might say, what are you thinking you might do about it? [ storm into 221B, and...? no story she spins, no alternative names or addresses, will hold water. so she doesn't even try, and instead begins to shuffle out of his coat again. ] I should let you get on. Nothing good will come of this.