The Science of Deduction, Friday - 11/5
The only reason Sherlock was in class today was because it was better than singing at John. Which essentially ranked it just below certain levels of hell. And grammar school.
He had a violin out of self defense and wasn’t afraid to use it should the urge to sing crop up.
“Class today is going to be on the importance of using a mobile phone,” Sherlock said, making sure each word was precise and devoid of musicality. “Access to the internet and the ability to contact someone at a moment’s notice is--”
God damn it all. His fingers were twitching for the violin bow. Gritting his teeth, Sherlock tucked the instrument under his chin and started to play.
William had so far managed to avoid bursting in to song. But the day was young, and as soon as Sherlock had uttered the word “phone” he suddenly found himself compelled to pull his own out of his jacket pocket.
Hello hello baby you called
I can't hear a thing
I have got no service
In the club, you say? say?
Wha-wha-what did you say huh?
You're breakin' up on me
Sorry I cannot hear you
I'm kinda busy
K-kinda busy
K-kinda busy
Sorry I cannot hear you I'm kinda busy
Oh good Lord, why was this happening? Was that even music?
As Bruce saw William get up and start singing, he felt relief that it wasn’t him this time. He quickly realized that such thoughts were foolish at a time like this, because he was suddenly standing on his desk with his phone held up to his ear.
Stop callin'
Stop callin'
I don't wanna think anymore
I left my head and my heart on the dancefloor
Stop callin'
Stop callin'
I don't wanna talk anymore
I left my head and my heart on the dancefloor
The dancefloor in this case was, of course, his desk. It was basically Bruce’s first table dance. You’re welcome, ladies.
Which meant that Sherlock was not immune to the singing just because he was playing an instrument, it would seem. And, unfortunately, he managed to have a decent voice despite singing Gaga.
E-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e
Stop telephonin'
Me-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e
I'm busy e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e
Stop telephonin'
Me-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e
Can call all you want but there's no one home
And you're not gonna reach my telephone
Out in the club
And I'm sippin that bubb
And you're not gonna reach my telephone
Call all you want, but there's no one home
And you're not gonna reach my telephone
Out in the club
And I'm sippin that bubb
And you're not gonna reach my telephone.
God help you all. He was going to murder everyone who witnessed this. And find a way to delete it from YouTube.
Bruce felt a little better about the ordeal when Sherlock got in on it. It was a fleeting feeling, though, because he started rapping the bridge.
Boy the way you blowing up my phone
Won't make me leave no faster
Put my coat on faster
Leave my girls no faster
I shoulda left my phone at home
'Cuz this is a disaster
Calling like a collector
Sorry, I cannot answer
Bruce wondered briefly what would have happened if he hadn’t brought his phone to class. It was an idle thought that was lost in the music, though.
William, meanwhile, was wondering just who he was singing to.
Not that I don't like you
I'm just at a party
And I am sick and tired of my phone r-ringing
Bruce was pretty sure he was just talking to the operator at this point.
Sometimes I feel like I live in grand central station
Tonight I'm not takin' no calls
'Cuz I'll be dancin'
I'll be dancin'
I'll be dancin'
Tonight I'm not takin' no calls
Cuz I'll be dancin'
This would all be so much easier if Sherlock had any idea who Lady Gaga was. Or could figure out why the hell they were all singing.
Beyond the simple fact that the island was screwing with them.
Once he clenched his jaw shut and sped through the rest of the damned song, he drew his bow across the violin strings, drawing out a noise not unlike a cat being strangled. It was charming. Really.
“If anyone else sings, you’re not welcome in class. Understood?”
[[Preplayed with faithandscience and willbethenight who put up with my weirdness.]]
He had a violin out of self defense and wasn’t afraid to use it should the urge to sing crop up.
“Class today is going to be on the importance of using a mobile phone,” Sherlock said, making sure each word was precise and devoid of musicality. “Access to the internet and the ability to contact someone at a moment’s notice is--”
God damn it all. His fingers were twitching for the violin bow. Gritting his teeth, Sherlock tucked the instrument under his chin and started to play.
William had so far managed to avoid bursting in to song. But the day was young, and as soon as Sherlock had uttered the word “phone” he suddenly found himself compelled to pull his own out of his jacket pocket.
Hello hello baby you called
I can't hear a thing
I have got no service
In the club, you say? say?
Wha-wha-what did you say huh?
You're breakin' up on me
Sorry I cannot hear you
I'm kinda busy
K-kinda busy
K-kinda busy
Sorry I cannot hear you I'm kinda busy
Oh good Lord, why was this happening? Was that even music?
As Bruce saw William get up and start singing, he felt relief that it wasn’t him this time. He quickly realized that such thoughts were foolish at a time like this, because he was suddenly standing on his desk with his phone held up to his ear.
Stop callin'
Stop callin'
I don't wanna think anymore
I left my head and my heart on the dancefloor
Stop callin'
Stop callin'
I don't wanna talk anymore
I left my head and my heart on the dancefloor
The dancefloor in this case was, of course, his desk. It was basically Bruce’s first table dance. You’re welcome, ladies.
Which meant that Sherlock was not immune to the singing just because he was playing an instrument, it would seem. And, unfortunately, he managed to have a decent voice despite singing Gaga.
E-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e
Stop telephonin'
Me-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e
I'm busy e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e
Stop telephonin'
Me-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e
Can call all you want but there's no one home
And you're not gonna reach my telephone
Out in the club
And I'm sippin that bubb
And you're not gonna reach my telephone
Call all you want, but there's no one home
And you're not gonna reach my telephone
Out in the club
And I'm sippin that bubb
And you're not gonna reach my telephone.
God help you all. He was going to murder everyone who witnessed this. And find a way to delete it from YouTube.
Bruce felt a little better about the ordeal when Sherlock got in on it. It was a fleeting feeling, though, because he started rapping the bridge.
Boy the way you blowing up my phone
Won't make me leave no faster
Put my coat on faster
Leave my girls no faster
I shoulda left my phone at home
'Cuz this is a disaster
Calling like a collector
Sorry, I cannot answer
Bruce wondered briefly what would have happened if he hadn’t brought his phone to class. It was an idle thought that was lost in the music, though.
William, meanwhile, was wondering just who he was singing to.
Not that I don't like you
I'm just at a party
And I am sick and tired of my phone r-ringing
Bruce was pretty sure he was just talking to the operator at this point.
Sometimes I feel like I live in grand central station
Tonight I'm not takin' no calls
'Cuz I'll be dancin'
I'll be dancin'
I'll be dancin'
Tonight I'm not takin' no calls
Cuz I'll be dancin'
This would all be so much easier if Sherlock had any idea who Lady Gaga was. Or could figure out why the hell they were all singing.
Beyond the simple fact that the island was screwing with them.
Once he clenched his jaw shut and sped through the rest of the damned song, he drew his bow across the violin strings, drawing out a noise not unlike a cat being strangled. It was charming. Really.
“If anyone else sings, you’re not welcome in class. Understood?”
[[Preplayed with faithandscience and willbethenight who put up with my weirdness.]]