Fit For Purpose
Oct. 1st, 2010 11:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moose_mcmooseTitle: Fit For Purpose
Characters: Sherlock, John
Words: 644
Rating: PG
Summary: John comes to the conclusion that Sherlock would be of little use in pub quizzes.
Notes: Written for thegameison_sh's Challenge 1. Prompt: "first".
"Why does this shock you so much?" Sherlock idly plucked at his violin.
"Well...because... it's basic knowledge." John glared, utterly dumbfounded Sherlock's nonchalance. This man of so much talent, wit and knowledge, brain bursting with everything you need to know about Chemistry, Law and Anatomy, not to mention the Agony Aunt columns in the national rags. This same man does not know that the earth revolves around the sun. John doesn't understand. He can't grasp that Sherlock, a true man of science, can leave such a profound fact out of his vast bank of knowledge.
"It's knowledge that is not relevant to my interests." Another gently plucked string reverberates around the lounge.
"It's relevant to everyone's interests. It's not something you can really get away from."
"I have."
"You haven't got away from it Sherlock. You've just chosen to ignore it."
"Thus leaving my mind open for knowledge that's relevant to my interests."
"Are you just being circular to annoy me? Because you don't need to do that. You could just use another one of my razors to shave another dead cat."
Sherlock exhaled an frustrated sigh. "The fact that we happen to hover around the sun does not affect my work so it has no relevance to me." He pointed a slim finger to his head. "The more irrelevant garbage I have in my mind, the less well I do my job because the space that could be used for information that I need is being taken up with pointless factoids about even more pointless subjects."
"Well what about people who have a good general knowledge?"
"Oh come on. People who have general knowledge are just people who haven't tried hard enough to gain specific knowledge." A thick slice of disdain carved through Sherlock's words.
"They're handy if to have in a pub quiz."
"Was that meant to be funny?" Sherlock gazed, mouth straight, brow furrowed.
"Yes." John stared blankly. "Sort of."
"Funny why? Because we don't go to pub quizzes, or are you implying I wouldn't be very helpful in pub quizzes? Was it a sorry attempt at sarcasm?"
Sherlock seemed genuinely confused, the cogs turning inwardly to decipher the hidden meaning within John's little observation. For John, the silence was just disconcerting.
"I...ju...well...It doesn't matter."
"Of course it matters!"
"Bloody hell Sherlock. I only said people with good general knowledge are good at pub quizzes."
"But you also implied that my general knowledge is poor if you take the orbiting earth fact into consideration. So by implying my general knowledge is poor then you are also implying that I would be poor at pub quizzes."
John shook his head, his eyes staring disbelievingly into the carpet. "Are you planning on attending any pub quizzes in the future?"
Sherlock grimaced. "Good god no."
"Then what is this?"
"What?"
"This. Why are you arguing with me? Why are you making a mountain out of a molehill?"
"Making a mountain from what?"
"A mole.. you know what, just leave it. We aren't going to any pub quizzes in the near future so your knowledge is fit for its purpose." John paced to the kitchen and clicked the switch on the kettle, his brain in dire need of rejuvenation after the sparring of words. A cup of strong tea should happily suffice.
"And do you now agree that the earth... whatever... thing you were talking about before is not relevant to my current interests?"
John's head dropped. "Look, I was just surprised. I mean, it's common knowledge like who defeated Napoleon at Waterloo, or how many wives Henry VIII had, or who wrote 1984."
"Charles Dickens wasn't it?"
In any other case, John would have burst into laughter, followed by a rapid bellowing of 'What?' and a face of utter befuddlement, but the semi-dissected insect scattered amongst his teabags had put paid to somewhat jovial mood. "It was bloody George Orwell." he muttered in defeat, as he threw a half full box of his favourite tea into bin.
Characters: Sherlock, John
Words: 644
Rating: PG
Summary: John comes to the conclusion that Sherlock would be of little use in pub quizzes.
Notes: Written for thegameison_sh's Challenge 1. Prompt: "first".
"Why does this shock you so much?" Sherlock idly plucked at his violin.
"Well...because... it's basic knowledge." John glared, utterly dumbfounded Sherlock's nonchalance. This man of so much talent, wit and knowledge, brain bursting with everything you need to know about Chemistry, Law and Anatomy, not to mention the Agony Aunt columns in the national rags. This same man does not know that the earth revolves around the sun. John doesn't understand. He can't grasp that Sherlock, a true man of science, can leave such a profound fact out of his vast bank of knowledge.
"It's knowledge that is not relevant to my interests." Another gently plucked string reverberates around the lounge.
"It's relevant to everyone's interests. It's not something you can really get away from."
"I have."
"You haven't got away from it Sherlock. You've just chosen to ignore it."
"Thus leaving my mind open for knowledge that's relevant to my interests."
"Are you just being circular to annoy me? Because you don't need to do that. You could just use another one of my razors to shave another dead cat."
Sherlock exhaled an frustrated sigh. "The fact that we happen to hover around the sun does not affect my work so it has no relevance to me." He pointed a slim finger to his head. "The more irrelevant garbage I have in my mind, the less well I do my job because the space that could be used for information that I need is being taken up with pointless factoids about even more pointless subjects."
"Well what about people who have a good general knowledge?"
"Oh come on. People who have general knowledge are just people who haven't tried hard enough to gain specific knowledge." A thick slice of disdain carved through Sherlock's words.
"They're handy if to have in a pub quiz."
"Was that meant to be funny?" Sherlock gazed, mouth straight, brow furrowed.
"Yes." John stared blankly. "Sort of."
"Funny why? Because we don't go to pub quizzes, or are you implying I wouldn't be very helpful in pub quizzes? Was it a sorry attempt at sarcasm?"
Sherlock seemed genuinely confused, the cogs turning inwardly to decipher the hidden meaning within John's little observation. For John, the silence was just disconcerting.
"I...ju...well...It doesn't matter."
"Of course it matters!"
"Bloody hell Sherlock. I only said people with good general knowledge are good at pub quizzes."
"But you also implied that my general knowledge is poor if you take the orbiting earth fact into consideration. So by implying my general knowledge is poor then you are also implying that I would be poor at pub quizzes."
John shook his head, his eyes staring disbelievingly into the carpet. "Are you planning on attending any pub quizzes in the future?"
Sherlock grimaced. "Good god no."
"Then what is this?"
"What?"
"This. Why are you arguing with me? Why are you making a mountain out of a molehill?"
"Making a mountain from what?"
"A mole.. you know what, just leave it. We aren't going to any pub quizzes in the near future so your knowledge is fit for its purpose." John paced to the kitchen and clicked the switch on the kettle, his brain in dire need of rejuvenation after the sparring of words. A cup of strong tea should happily suffice.
"And do you now agree that the earth... whatever... thing you were talking about before is not relevant to my current interests?"
John's head dropped. "Look, I was just surprised. I mean, it's common knowledge like who defeated Napoleon at Waterloo, or how many wives Henry VIII had, or who wrote 1984."
"Charles Dickens wasn't it?"
In any other case, John would have burst into laughter, followed by a rapid bellowing of 'What?' and a face of utter befuddlement, but the semi-dissected insect scattered amongst his teabags had put paid to somewhat jovial mood. "It was bloody George Orwell." he muttered in defeat, as he threw a half full box of his favourite tea into bin.
