Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. Or the Phantom of the Opera. Pity!
Boring
Bored. Sherlock thought he had never been so bored before in his life – and it had nothing to do with the cold turkey he was on, but the film John was watching. Like a child awaiting Christmas he sat in front of the flat screen, stuck to the words the actors sang. Sang, yes, sang. It was some sort of music film, obviously.
"Why are we watching this, John?" Sherlock asked.
"Because it's a great performance."
"It's an opera."
"It's a musical," John improved. "*The* musical. Like in *The* Woman. Now shut up!"
Sherlock frowned.
"What's it called?"
"The Phantom of the Opera," John answered. "It's the 25th anniversary performance."
"Boring," Sherlock snorted.
"Maybe for you."
"It is."
"Go to your room, then, and stop bothering me."
"Why don't *you* go to *your* room and watch it there? Why do I have to suffer from your … obsession?"
"I am not obsessed," John corrected. "I am fascinated."
"Fascinated?" Sherlock repeated, amused. "The actors can hardly sing!"
"What do you know about music, Sherlock?"
"I play the violin," Sherlock retorted, offended.
"Which you taught yourself."
"So?"
"So, you are not exactly an expert on music."Sherlock grunted. Wrapping his dressing gown around himself he lay back on the sofa and turned on his side, facing the wall.
This was boring. Sooo boring.