"A bit of both, it seems," Sherlock said, sounding equal parts amused and annoyed. The author who had written about him had apparently hated him and the thought made him cranky for some reason.

"What species are you?" he asked curiously, before she left. "I'm trying to learn them all. The information is relevant to my work."

The world needed to be classifiable and highly ordered for him to be able to do his work on the ship. That was how it all worked, there were categories and occupations and lots of little details: "postal worker," "serial adulterer," "widow."