Work Text:
Watson rubbed her temples, eyes closed. “Detective Bell, can I please borrow your gun?”
Bell gave her a sympathetic sidelong look (most of his attention still focused on her partner while he took notes). “Migraine?”
“A migraine is treatable,” she corrected him, groaning. “This is Sherlock-induced.”
“I’d keep him overnight for jaywalking if he wasn’t so useful,” Bell muttered. Both continued to watch the aforementioned doing his bloodhound impression at the crime scene.
”Temporary solution. And it’s not his personality or anything like that, it’s those damn TVs.”
“’Scuse me?” Bell gave her considerably more attention at that.
“You’ve seen his media room.” Joan lifted her head, face a mask of patient suffering as she recited from rote. “Seven flatscreens, a police scanner, three radios, livestream, and a ham setup. And he watches and listens all at once – while he’s reading a book. Says it keeps his mind sharp.”
“Mr. Universe.” Bell shook his head. “That must be restful.”
“This morning’s noise was especially restful, because it’s still in here.” Joan tapped her head.
“Tinnitus?”
“TV For You. And Memory Channel. And SitChan. Three of the flatscreens played old sitcoms.” Joan glared at her partner. “ONE irritating theme song would be bad enough. All morning my head’s been playing Beverly Hillbillies, Gilligan’s Island, and Brady Bunch. Simultaneously.”
“Oh, God,” said Bell.