A BUGS life … 6
Set: Post ASiP
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Sherlock & John belong to ACD, & the BBC. I just get to play with the characters minds!
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The Personal Blog of Dr. John H. Watson
16th February:
Bugs
Among the weird things about living in this madhouse (apart from the animal dissections, erlenmeyer flasks, eyeballs in the microwave, Thames river mud and the prevalent smell of ether and other chemicals, that is) is the inordinate number of bugs we find each week.
Not the insect variety, though we seem to get plenty of those too. Oh no! That would be much too normal for anything involving our resident madman, Sherlock Holmes! I'm talking about the electronic kinds that are used to eavesdrop on conversations and the like.
The kinds that make you feel you've been dropped into a surreal mix of 'Aldous Huxley meets Reality TV!'
or, 'Big Brother- Baker Street edition!'
They are everywhere!
I mean, seriously! Who puts that many electronic devices in a private dwelling when the occupants are not under consideration for criminal or terrorist activities and the like?
… We aren't - are we Sherlock …?
[Don't be ridiculous, John!]
And the most worrying thing? No-one here seems to expect anything different!
So how did I find out? …
If I'd thought life at Baker Street would settle into what goes for 'Sherlock-Normal' after the events of late last month, I was mistaken. The madman has only two speeds in life – frenetic or comatose!
Flick of an internal switch and it's mood change time. He metamorphoses from rag doll to whirling dervish in the space of five seconds. Unnerving! And honestly, it's the latter state that's the most worrying – I've seen corpses that are more animated!
[Somewhat given to over-dramatisation today?]
Anyway, after a particularly intense bout of the sulks/boredom/laziness, [sulks?]Sherlock suddenly sprang up from his two-day long position of lassitude on the couch and started pulling books and papers off the shelves, moving pictures, opening vents, lifting carpets and generally behaving as if he had imbibed some serious narcotics, muttering away to himself all the time.
It was so completely nerve-wracking that I began to compile a list in my head of the mental health facilities in the Greater London area who specialize in home pick-ups!
[Huh! I seriously doubt any mental health professional would be sufficiently concerned with the idea of a stable, intelligent adult male tidying up his abode during his off-time!]
At one point, he jumped off the third shelf of the bookcase (don't ask why he had climbed up there in the first place) [Access, obviously! Do think, John!]and started foraging madly in the kitchen cabinets, returning triumphant bearing a battered old coffee tin and a smug expression, before re-climbing the bookcase and fiddling with something at the base of the cornice.
[I prefer satisfied expression!]
A dull metallic thunk [Is that even a word?] indicated he had found whatever it was he was searching for, though his frantic cavorting within the living room indicated he was not done yet.
From the increase in noise level, it became apparent that whatever it was he was collecting, there were quite a number of them around. Once he'd created havoc in the living room (of course he wouldn't just tidy up after himself, would he!), he moved to the stairs, the kitchen, entrance hall, bedrooms and even the toilet (somewhat too nauseating to think about!).
The tin, by this stage had begun to fill, though when I tried to remove one of the items to see what it was, Sherlock whacked me sharply on the wrist!
[Infantile lack of discipline requires a suitable level of response!]
Two hours after he started, Sherlock finally returned to his place of hibernation and sprawled bonelessly back onto the cushions. It was as if someone had flicked the 'Off' switch and the toy dervish had just resumed its 'at rest' position.
"You can look now," it growled.
Having been granted permission, I moved to the tin and peered at the contents inside.
At first glance, they looked somewhat like very small batteries. When removed and inspected closer, they were obviously tiny electronic listening devices.
About twenty of them.
Sherlock appeared to be completely disinterested in my surprise, his face showing only extreme annoyance.
At my query he condescended to explain.
According to him, his rather manipulative, intrusive … family member … xxxxxxx…(whom I've met previously, by the way), likes to keep tabs on my mad flatmate via costly bugs! (I think the madness, sorry - eccentricity, must be a family trait)!
Bloody hell! Why not drop in, or use the telephone or email? That's what it's there for!
Sherlock gave me the 'Don't be so stupid' look and explained (without my asking) that he certainly didn't want Him anywhere in his flat, and he certainly wouldn't be responding to His calls!
[Ever considered using names in your sentences John? That is their use.]
Is that even legal? Who does this bloke think he is? James Bond?
[Don't be absurd! Bond has nowhere near the necessary clout for something of this nature. Insufficiently Machiavellian after all!].
At this point, Mrs Hudson popped in to ask if we would like some scones she had baked.
After commenting adversely on the state of the flat, she deposited the scones on a clear space on the kitchen table, spotted the tin, tut-tutted under her breath and muttered "More then, Sherlock? This is the third time this month! Poor boy. He does worry so!", before blithely heading off downstairs again.
I am completely surrounded by nutters!
I consoled myself by brewing a fresh pot of tea as I tried to fathom what would cause a xxxxxxx to bug his own xxxxxxx – other than sheer bloody-mindedness. I mean, really!
[Bravo John! You are beginning to understand the fundamental nature of the man. You should have taken that money!]
At the prospect of afternoon tea, Sherlock bounced back up, grabbed the tin and emptied the contents into a business envelope. Rummaging around in his desk, he emerged with a large magnet which he passed over the bugs several times, and left sitting atop the devices whilst he ate his scones.
He then proceeded to enlighten me as to the chemical composition of the component parts, their rates of decay or dissolution in a variety of corrosive acid and alkaline solvents, the precise force required to shatter the typical bug using the heel of an average man's dress shoe purchased from M & S, the most common frequencies used to transmit data and the corresponding frequencies which resulted in the greatest amount of disruptive resonance to the listener – amongst other extraneous and unnecessary details.
[Such knowledge is never unnecessary!]
Scribbling on a Vauxhall address, he threw the envelope to me before flopping back on the couch.
To my question of what I was to do with it he replied: "Obvious, John! Do think. Drop it in the post on your way to Tesco's for more milk!"
And the fact that it didn't have a stamp and that the metallic nature of the contents will most likely set off the metal detectors of the Royal Mail?
Sherlock just smirked maliciously and added that it wouldn't cause anywhere near the disruption that the mini cameras would do the following day!
*Groan*
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23 comments
John what have you got yourself into, old mate?
Bill Murray 16 February 19:15
More than he can chew, by the look of it!
Have you gone completely barking mad? – And what money?
Harry Watson 16 February 19:21
I told you he was trouble! Now you can see the whole
family is balmy!
Or he really is under investigation for some crime
and is trying to cover it with a lame story like this!
Wouldn't surprise me in the least!
Sally Donovan 16 February 19:22
Stick to 'scrubbing floors', Sgt Donovan. You're better at that!
BTW John, I don't smirk.
Sherlock Holmes 16 February 19:24
Indeed. And indeed you do!
Anonymous 16 February 19:24
Freaks!
Sally Donovan 16 February 19:27
Seriously John. Bugs? Mysterious enemies?
Get out of here!
Harry Watson 16 February 19:30
I shouldn't really complain too much – this is probably
the closest to 'sweeping' Sherlock will ever get!
But honestly Harry, it's perfectly safe here.
Well, except for my password.
Sherlock, STOP EDITING MY POSTS!
John Watson 16 February 19:31
If you must persist in this inane group chatter, then I
in all diligence, must ensure its accuracy.
Sherlock Holmes 16 February 19:35
Pompous git!
Harry Watson 16 February 19:36
Sweeping! Haha!
Still a fan of the spy genre, then?
Bill Murray 16 February 19:41
Do you realise just how many times you used his name in the course
of this blog, and what that indicates? *nudge, nudge, wink, wink *
Bill Murray 16 February 19:42
Shut it, Bill.
John Watson 16 February 19:43
Don't any of you have anything better to do with your time
and your limited mental skills than to sit around commenting
on the inexpert ramblings of my flatmate?
Sherlock Holmes 16 February 19:48
Thanksfor that, Sherlock!
John Watson 16 February 19:49
Somewhat harsh there!
His 'ramblings' have more than just a hint of truth to them!
Anonymous 16 February 19:53
The less from You, the better for all concerned!
Sherlock Holmes 16 February 19:54
You do seem to attract the weirdoes, don't you, John?
Harry Watson 16 February 19:56
Do you actually know who that is, Sherlock?
John Watson 16 February 19:56
Obviously!
Sherlock Holmes 16 February 19:58
Well?
John Watson 16 February 20:00
Sherlock? … Are you going to tell me?
John Watson 16 February 20:02
SHERLOCK …?
John Watson 16 February 20:04
Bugger!
John Watson 16 February 20:11
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