Sherlock Holmes, His Limits: Politics
"Have you decided who to vote for, Sherlock?" John asked one morning over his newspaper.
"Hmm," he mumbled incoherently.
John peered over his paper at his flatmate. Said flatmate was currently involved in a chemistry experiment, the result of which had a large probability of raising John's rent. "Sherlock, are you listening to me at all?"
"What? Oh, no, not really," he said absentmindedly as he slowly poured a crimson fluid from a test tube into a beaker containing a violet liquid.
"I asked if you had decided who to vote for."
"I really couldn't care less about who wins that silly game show of yours, John!" The beaker had started to smoke slightly as Sherlock quickly set it down on the table and backed away.
"I was actually talking about the election."
"What election?" he asked, attention successfully diverted.
"The election for Prime Minister."
"Really?" Sherlock leaned forward, intrigued. "They have elections for that?"
"They always have elections!"
He was stunned. "I thought that was something Mycroft took care of."
"It's the twenty-first century, Sherlock. The people get to choose the Prime Minister."
"That's just what Mycroft wants you to think." He was smug now, sure he had figured out the truth.
"What do you know about politics, anyway?" John retorted as the beaker finally exploded with a loud boom.
