Sherlock stares at the stranger, supposed fan, with a blank expression, rather displeased his home had been violated by the likes of this individual. He cancels his text in his own time, slipping it back into his pocket, and crossing his arms, ignoring the hand gesture. "Clearly," responds Holmes, "scanning" James for information. Sure, he has dealt with fans in the past, but never had they entered his apartment. Ever. Which, now that it has been made possible, honestly surprises the detective why no one else has. A small voice in his head warns himself to be nice to the person, though, to not crush his heart. "Sorry, but I do not have students," Sherlock responds with a fake sincerity, "Go to school for that sort of thing." The consulting detective turns about on his heel, heading toward his door, holding it open and swinging his hand at it to signal James's departure.