[ As Number Two continues its caterwauling Sherlock's patience grows thinner and thinner. He's naturally done next to nothing to help with this little parental experiment, all of the responsibility of feeding and soothing and nurturing left to the one that has ended up designated mother unit -- so much so that the poor man has had to hold them to his not-so-womanly bosom from time to time to satisfy their feeding needs when the monstrous AI refuses a bottle.
Needless to say, tension in the flat has been mounting exponentially since the first fit of simulated bawling.
Finally Sherlock slams down the lid of his laptop. The noise is just unbearable. Surely real children can't be this loud, can they? He feels a temporary sympathy for murderous parents. ]
For God's sake, that's the feeding cry, how can you not realize that already?
[ The detective stands sharply from his seat and storms into the room, but not to help; no, he's on the hunt for something to crack the shells open on the fake babies to disconnect them and be done with this, case be damned. Martin can bring the equipment back to MJN in pieces for all he cares. ]
no subject
Needless to say, tension in the flat has been mounting exponentially since the first fit of simulated bawling.
Finally Sherlock slams down the lid of his laptop. The noise is just unbearable. Surely real children can't be this loud, can they? He feels a temporary sympathy for murderous parents. ]
For God's sake, that's the feeding cry, how can you not realize that already?
[ The detective stands sharply from his seat and storms into the room, but not to help; no, he's on the hunt for something to crack the shells open on the fake babies to disconnect them and be done with this, case be damned. Martin can bring the equipment back to MJN in pieces for all he cares. ]