"Watson! Come here quickly! I need you..."
It seems like our silver-eared sleuth has forgotten to clean his ears again and as a result he cannot hear what he is thinking. Much to his dismay, warm yellow stuff is oozing from his right earlobe and collecting itself on his lapel. No matter, a quick warm water rinse and all is well...at least until our hero learns about why his ears were filling up with wax to begin with.
"Turn it down...it's making my head hurt." Sherlock was objecting to the objectionable and over-abundance of sibillance coming from his new super tweeters. It seems that in his haste, Sherlock ran the numbers for the new crossover network to fill in the HF dropout but forgot about all of the rest regarding its design. "That's terrible...turn it off I told you!"
Without another word, Watson dashes to the remote control and in another moment the distant click and subsequent whir precludes by mere nanoseconds the lowering of volume. "There you go, how about some tea?"
Sherlock is appalled but takes Watson up on the offer as he lights up another bowl and sets his stellarly-trained mind to work instigating several alternate crossover models simultaneously while waiting for the fresh brew. "Give me data...more data...I need more data" Watson hears from the kitchen as the tea kettle starts to rumble on the old gas stove. "I'm sure you'll work it out." Watson knows that at times like this, Sherlock just spouts off in any direction about anything until his mind congeals and narrows down the options.
"Phase!" another scream echoes through the halls reaching her as she pours the last drops into her cup. "It must be relative phase causing these fingernails on the chalkboard..." Watson is silent thinking that it would be better to leave well enough alone but deciding to bring a cookie along with the tea.
"Here you go. So what were you saying? I couldn't hear; I was in the kitchen." Watson knows that it is best to ask questions and nod as if she understands - knowing darned welll that phase to her was something children go through in puberty. Instead, the bobble-head could be seen wiggling from across the listening room.
"Do you hear that slight screeching?"
Watson knew that this was a no-win question since if she agreed, Sherlock would ask her to describe what she heard and if she disagreed she would be considered acoustically handicapped demoting her to a position somewhat above a novice audio critic. Instead, the third totally-safe option sprang from her lips, "It sounds fine to me." This neutral but acoustically intelligent response kept her is good standings with Sherlock and at the same time didn't reveal too much about what she honestly couldn't hear nor cared to understand. She preferred to enjoy the results rather than understand the details. "I'm confident that you will work it out." Another safe response instilling confidence and at the same time stroking the huge ego of this master sleuth.
Watson really appreciated Sherlock's efforts and rumor has it that the reason she chose to be with him in the beginning was for his stereo. But alas, over the years she adapted her response strategies to that of this neutral stance and learned to her words in such a masterful way. Her responses also kept Sherlock focused on things that were important rather than the minuscule details and for this the two found a lasting bond.
"Let me think about it..." Sherlock stroked his shin and started a series of mental gymnastics each attempting to find what could possibly be the issue.
Peace returned to the planet, at least for the moment.
Yours for higher fidelity,
Philip Rastocny
I do not use ads in this blog to help support my efforts. If you like what you are reading, please remember to reciprocate, My newest title is called Where, oh Where did the Star of Bethlehem Go? It’s an astronomer’s look at what this celestial object may have been, who the "Wise Men" were, and where they came from. Written in an investigative journalism style, it targets one star that has never been considered before and builds a solid case for its candidacy.
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