"Sherlock, can you stop?" asked a very frustrated John Watson at ten o'clock p.m. as his flatmate once again picked up his violin and launched into a piece of his own composition.
"I'm thinking, John." Replied Sherlock, lowering his bow and looking up at John. "This helps me think."
John sighed, put the newspaper he had been reading on the coffee table and got up from the sofa. "Alright, you carry on thinking. I'm going to bed." He said, pointing a finger up, to indicate his bedroom. Sherlock made no response and continued playing, as if John hadn't spoken. "Sherlock?" John tried. "Sherlock did you hear me?" No response. "Sherlock, can you hear me?" Still no response, "Sher – oh never mind"