[Sherlock smiles slightly, almost as if he receives that as a friendly challenge. He looks out to the docks, where a few lights were aglow on the deck of his ship.]

I happen to be in need of a chief mate.

[He'd never had one before. Sherlock didn't trust anyone to be his directly second in command. He alone was in charge of his crew. But John isn't quite like every other throat slitting man jack of their trade.]

My crew is getting a bit drunk on success. Mostly just drunk. Could use a little Navy style discipline on board.