[The video feed switches on to a sleepy-looking Holmes, who raises his head amidst a pile of rubble, looking slightly dazed.
He looks at his little tableside calendar that he got so many months ago, which is still set at 'October', flips it back and forth, and says:]
Is it November?
[A pause, and a realization:]
It's been more than a year.
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[Good God, man. She'll make sure you're watching before performing a dramatic eyeroll.]
How you can afford to so completely lose track of time is beyond me, dear.
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[It's not like he has no sense of it. Just. When it counts.]
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[She imagines that the nature of the planet and the reward for the beauty contest would both pique his interest, if for different reasons it piqued hers.]
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So, in a sense, I've missed everything and nothing.
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And I presume that also means you have missed learning the music I gave you? Or did you memorize it and then fall into your stupor?
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That should speak louder than words.]
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[And he starts playing a segment of it, stopping in the middle and then replaying it a bit slower, with less staccato.]
It doesn't quite speak to me here. I'm still in the process of unraveling it.
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[He says as he puts down his violin, raising a brow.]
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Sherlock is not too poor a singer, you know. [As if trying to get these two to perform a violin duet was not amusing enough...]
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