"Not properly. Bits and pieces." But he had said everything. That Sherlock wants to possess every last little secret, filthy or otherwise, every hidden thing, is encompassed in the statement -- but also best left unspoken, perhaps.

"Like... a puzzle. Put together a bit of it and you can work out some of the picture, but only... some here, some there." And so little of it the bits about which Sherlock is desperately curious, the bits he doesn't understand about anybody, except perhaps himself.

"It's a... work in progress." He says it with a faint, crooked smile, as though he's joking, but he's not, not really. He doesn't expect to really manage it, though. Even if he did... people are constantly changing, aren't they? It would be the work of a lifetime.

Sherlock can't, at the moment, really say that he minds the prospect.