fandomhigh | Library [09/26]

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Library [09/26]

There was music in the library today. It wasn't the same, loud, pervasive music that Jonothon normally opted to, however. Today it was almost like a whisper of music. Like a hundred little voices all joining together in song.

... Or, more accurately, the rustling of the pages of every book on the subject of music in the entire library, all rising up in glorious, but quiet, harmony.

They'd just finished Sound of Silence, and were moving on with Scarborough Fair when Jono came in, levelled that aisle with a look, and then shook his head and set to work shelving things. Occasionally, things that were singing at him.

Ah, Fandom.

[Open! And listening to Simon and Garfunkel.]

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John had had no intention of coming to the library.

That is, he'd had none until Sherlock had grabbed his coat and mentioned something about 'an errand', and... well.

John knew which day Jono's shift was. So he'd hitched along, and now he was... here. "Good morning." Playing human shield, apparently.

Because John was the only person who wouldn't attempt to murder him in the everyday life.

...and it helped that he moved all the body parts into the walk in cooler provided by the hotel.

"Botany," Sherlock said, looking past Jono for the moment.

//That way,// Jono said, in a deadpan that suggested that he was terribly thrilled to see Sherlock here. Really. //Though I doubt you'll find anything about singing root vegetables. That's Fandom's sense of humour, all over.//

He was demonstrating his own capacity for deduction, now. Look at him go!

John smiled in his well-practiced way (the particular brand of smile that read I'm being nice and polite to ensure this doesn't turn into some kind of... well, Sherlock.) and glanced up at Jono's eyes. "Don't suppose anyone's tried to examine any of them?"

If they got Sherlock new toys...

That got Sherlock to pause for an entire minute. It was a feat!

"...I suppose if I damaged the books, I would have to pay for them."

//And you'd be banned from th'library,// Jono agreed, sounding almost amiable as he did so.

Not that he thought for a second that something as simple as a ban would keep Sherlock out, no.

//So far as examining th'vegetables goes, I suppose somebody might have. They weren't anything but ordinary on the inside, at any rate.//

Thank you, George, for squishing them into the floor underfoot.

"Well, that's... good."

Look, John was here to be the back-up; he wasn't nowhere near Sherlock's level yet. "And yes," he added, slanting a look at Sherlock, "I think that's how libraries usually work. What are you thinking?"

Edited 2010-09-26 17:25 (UTC)

"Hmm?" Sherlock shot John a look as though just remembering people were around him. "Can they ban a teacher?"

//For wanton destruction of school property? I'm certain they'd find a way.//

He hoped they would find a way. He'd make stern faces at people until someone found a way.

He doubted they would work.

Edited 2010-09-26 17:29 (UTC)

"Let's not presume there will be destruction, shall we?" John attempted, sighing. "Sherlock, what are we looking for?"

"Research material for the onions." Duh. "And how exactly they knew what to say."

Oh god, Jono, run.

Edited 2010-09-26 17:37 (UTC)

//Research material for the onions.//

Jono now grappled with the very strong temptation to just steer Sherlock into Special Collections and then lock the door behind him. But that would have been wrong.

A little.

//They were probably psychic onions. Really, I want to know how they even managed to speak, without mouths.//

... Don't go the obvious place with that one. Please.

"That is... a very good point," John replied. He was blinking, courtesy of said good point, eyes travelling from Sherlock to Jono and back. "Maybe the rings sort of-- slid past each other, making noise like a rattlesnake. But that wouldn't produce human sounds, so... probably not for any biological reason."

Sherlock was just going to stare at John for a moment. "No, not biological," he replied slowly.

Oh, John. You tried so hard.

"No, it was the same 'sound' as when you speak. So it had to be something else." A beat. "How do you eat?"

SHERLOCK.

//I... don't.//

Which was his answer, yes. It just took him a moment, because he was kicking himself for not seeing that question coming in the first place.

//Which isn't any of yer bloody business,// he added.

Yes. That would sure set him straight. Righto.

... Ow.

John winced quietly, and sent Sherlock a plaintative look. Lay off, please?

"What?" John, don't give him those looks! "He doesn't have a jaw or internal organs."

A beat.

"...bad thing?"

John pursed his lips.

"A little bad, yes," he said, his voice as understated as the statement itself.

Edited 2010-09-26 17:55 (UTC)

Jono had put his hands into his pockets again. Because if his hands were in his pockets, then he couldn't punch Sherlock in the nose. Or, at least, if he did, he'd end up looking bloody ridiculous while he made the attempt.

//Mm. A touch.//

At least, he supposed, John had the capacity to make Sherlock realize there was bad going on.

"Hm." Sherlock seemed to file that bit of information away before shaking his head and disappearing into the stacks, leaving poor John behind.

John sighed, casting a look after him. Lost cause, that.

"So," he began, awkwardly, as his attention returned to Jono. "At least the onions were a bit... better than the fish."

//I preferred th'fish.//

You could avoid the fish. The fish couldn't get inside. Jono had ignored the fish, because there were plenty of people on the island who were stupid enough to go after them.

//They might have had gaping mouths, but you never had to listen to them.//

"There is that," John agreed. Was that a stack of books on the counter? He gave it a prod. "I bought some earmuffs," he shared. "Thought it might be a bit-- weird, slicing them up."

//Mm, but probably delicious.// Jono's tone was dry. Dry like the Sahara. //They didn't particularly seem to mind when th'gel I'm sharing a room with stomped them flat with her foot.//

No little oniony screams of agony or anything. No guilt, either. They'd been asking for it.

//One of th'many joys of Fandom, mate.//

Much like the musical books, today.

"Different strokes, I suppose."

He was a doctor. He wasn't opposed to slicing up anything living, really, it was just that the onions had been so-- well, odd.

John peered back over through the books, attempting to catch sight of the hair on the back of Sherlock's head. "He asked the hotel manager to bring more of them up."

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