John stared blankly at the mass of wires in his hand. He himself wasn't terribly good at installing stereo systems, but seeing as how Sherlock wasn't going to, he may as well try. Though what Mrs. Hudson was planning on doing with a 55-inch plasma television and surround sound speakers, John had no idea. Watch cooking shows?
"Thank you so much, dear, for helping me with this."
"No problem, Mrs. Hudson." He stared at the back of the telly. Why is it that the colours on the wires never match the ones on the devices? I mean, yeah, red white and yellow were fairly common, but then they had to throw in blue and green and pink which were the second input or something, but John could never remember which of the second colour group corresponded with the first. Then there was that cable with no colour (HDNI or something) and that strange one that looks like it has a face.
John scratched his head. If that went in there, and that went in there, maybe it would work? He accidentally turned the stereo on, and, the volume being at its highest level, he nearly had a heart attack. Quickly, he turned it back off and looked to see if Mrs. Hudson was alright. She looked a bit shell-shocked, but essentially fine.
"Sorry," he muttered.
"That's alright," she replied, still in shock. "I'm having my godson over for football this evening and I'd like to surprise him with a nice big television."
"That's awfully nice of you."
"It's been a while since Greg came over just for a visit, so it'll be nice to see him."
"Didn't think you liked football," John said, mildly confused. Well, more than mildly overall, but on the subject of Mrs. Hudson, mildly. She smiled.
"Oh, I quite enjoy a good match, especially when I'm watching it with my family. I always went to Greg's matches when he was a child. He was very good."
John yanked his finger back suddenly—he'd been shocked. "Damn it! Sorry," he added out of courtesy. "Should be working now," he said. Just then the doorbell rang.
"Oh, that's him!" John decided to head back upstairs, but couldn't help but notice the voice at the door was familiar. It was Lestrade.
"Hang on," said John, perplexed. "You're her godson?"
Lestrade raised his eyebrow. "Yeah."
"Okay," was all John had to say on the subject. He went back upstairs and continued to try to convince Sherlock that frying celery wasn't a good idea.