John was tired and messy and this bloke wouldn't stop talking.
He wanted to pay attention, he really did - it was interesting - but John had been up for over 36 hours; he could feel his bloodshot eyes like one would feel a fresh paper cut.
"-but his blood sugar level would not be so elevated-"
What did it feel like to have a good night's rest?
"-of course they didn't notice; they're appallingly incompetent-"
John was content to let the man's deep voice wash over him, staring ahead so as to seem as if he was able to hold on to the thread of conversation.
Well, not quite a conversation per se. The man was talking, and John was the only one in the room to hear him, so he supposed it counted in that way.
It really was a pity that he couldn't focus on much more than the space between the man's eyebrows. Having been subjected to more than one of these... listening sessions earlier in the day, he knew that whatever was being said was incredible and, likely, scathing.
"Idiots."
Yeah, scathing.
If only he'd been cornered by this man on a day that he hadn't kept himself up trying new recipes.
The eyebrows drew together as the man started on the path of a new thought, and John thought it was finally time to put an end to his self-induced misery. He scraped together as much of his remaining consciousness as was possible.
"Of course-"
"Sorry, mate, what did you say your name was?" John was sure that the man wouldn't take offense. He would have deduced that John was exhausted, probably able to narrow it down to the last hour he slept. He was almost sure that the man knew John was completely uninvested in his most recent bout of brilliance.
"Sherlock Holmes," replied the man without missing a beat, and immediately started back on his last train of thought.
Right. Sherlock Holmes: the consulting detective. John remembered the name now.
"Ta," he said, grabbing the hollow chocolate sphere nearest to his hand. Without warning, he shoved the confection into Sherlock's frantically moving mouth, shutting him up with little more than a surprised "mmph."
"You're welcome to stay here, but I need to sleep. I'll be more than happy to help you continue your investigation tomorrow, but I'm nearly asleep on my feet as it is."
Sherlock just looked at him for a long moment before he reached into his pockets for his gloves. He was already halfway to the kitchen door before he spoke next. "I'll return in an hour. How do you feel about the violin?"