Title: Counterpoint the Surrealism of the Underlying Metaphor
Prompt: The Case of the Half Truth
Warnings: None required
Rating: Okay for any age
The other night, on "Great Performances at the Met", they were showing this opera. Really! With these real lines in it! I was dumfounded. And then I thought, oh hey, Sherlock Holmes is canonically a big opera fan...
"Since that night at the Polka, I don't understand you, Sheriff."
"Now it's your turn to cry, Minnie!"
"Which opera is this again?"
"La Fanciulla Del West. Shh."
"Johnson from Sacramento, the devil's on your side!"
"Somebody's poisoned the waterhole," John muttered. "There's a snake in my boot."
"Shhh!" Sherlock repeated, more vehemently. He seemed quite entranced by the bizarre amalgam of Italian opera and spaghetti Western being enacted on the stage.
"I kept my word, but still your lover will hang!"
"I didn't really expect opera to have quite so much lynch mob in it," John complained quietly.
The people in front of them turned around and glared at them both. John looked innocent. Sherlock didn't appear to notice the other opera patrons' ire.
"Goodbye, California! Goodbye, my sweet land!" the performers sang, and finally, finally the curtain came down.
Of course, Sherlock dragged John backstage afterward to congratulate the performers.
"Jenny Hill, this is Dr. John Watson, my colleague. John, this is Jenny Hill."
"Oh, of course," John said, shaking the woman's hand. "You played, er, um, sang Minnie! I particularly liked the way you handled your Winchester rifle."
"John was in the army," Sherlock put in.
"Oh, splendid!" the performer exclaimed. "I do love a man in uniform!"
"He'd never been to the opera before."
"Well, I'm so glad you brought him along! Sherlock saved me from a horrid, horrid blackmailer when I was very young, you know! Getting him tickets to the opera is the least I can do!"
"Oh, ah," John said.
"You were magnificent tonight, truly. I enjoyed the performance."
"Thank you, Sherlock! That means a lot, coming from you. Tell me, John, how did you like the opera?"
"Ah. Er. Actually, I quite liked it," John said brightly. "Oh, yes. I thought that some of the metaphysical imagery was really particularly effective. And. Er. Interesting rhythmic devices, too, er, which seemed to counterpoint the..."
At this point, Sherlock kicked John, surreptitiously but quite hard, on the ankle. John was just as glad, actually, as he had no idea of where that sentence had been going. Fortunately, Jenny had been distracted by other well-wishers, and they were able to leave without any trouble.
Sherlock's glare (remarkably similar to the expression that Lestrade and Mycroft used on Sherlock himself so frequently) was a small price to pay in order to be able to get out of the opera house.
"Can't take you anywhere," Sherlock muttered, once they'd reached the street.
"Isn't that normally my line?" John said.
Then they were both giggling like kids, and it was a fine evening out after all.