A/N: Prompted by charliebravowhiskey on Tumblr.

05. Odd Music

John enters the flat after work and frowns, standing in the doorway, trying to grasp what he's hearing.

"Sherlock, are you listening to… Oh, what's it called? …Dubstep?" he says after a pause, trying to remember what he recalls seeing on the internet about this kind of electronic music. A voice leaks into it, rapping. He blinks. "A dubstep remix of a… an American rap song?"

"Shh, John. I need to listen."

"What? Why? It sounds awful!"

"It's for science, John. An experiment in how music of varying types effect moods. Rap is meant to make teenagers either angry or horny, and dubstep is meant to be for dancing or energy. I thought I would save time by finding a merge of the two, as well as see what sort of feeling might be created when both are involved."

"…And you're using yourself as a test subject."

"Oh, no. I'm using Lestrade." He holds up his phone, and faintly, John can hear under the music, 'DAMMIT, SHERLOCK, I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS! TURN THAT RUDDY SHITE OFF! I'M TRYING TO TELL YOU ABOUT A CASE!'

"…Shouldn't you listen to him?" John remarks as he raises a brow.

"Uhg, no. The case he's referring to is horrendously simple. They even know who did it. They just want me to find him, which I don't feel like doing, since he is obviously hiding out at his dead aunt's old home in Sussex."

"He is?" John can faintly hear Lestrade say. "Well done. Thanks." And he hangs up.

"Drat. Lost my test subject," Sherlock sighs. He glances up at John. "You're next, then."

"Oh, no. I'm not going to sit here and listen to strange music with you –"

Suddenly Sherlock puts on something that sounds more like screeching than anything else. Skrillex. John recognizes it.

"Argh!" John clamps his hands over his ears and yells, "Turn that off, turn it off!"

Sherlock changes it to someone yelling hoarsely while rock instruments plays. Screamo music, then.

"That's not any better!" John roars.

"Is it making you feel angry? Like you want to break things?"

"I'm going to break open your blasted head!" John threatens.

"Excellent. Duly noted," Sherlock says, marking something casually as if the music doesn't annoy him. He changes it again. It's rock music still, but a bit slower, with more singing and only bouts of small screams, and the lyrics are depressing. Emo it is, then. "How about this?"

"I swear to God, I will gouge out my ears."

"Emo teens are associated with cutting themselves. Perhaps their music is why, then, if you wish to inflict bodily harm to yourself whilst listening," Sherlock muses.

"No! That's not – Sherlock, just please, put on something else. Classical. Country. I don't care, just something more tolerable than this!"

The Beatles come on. John relaxes. "Much better." He frowns when the singer comes in. "Hang on, it sounds different."

"It's from a film. 'Across The Universe.' They covered The Beatles."

"Oh, now that's just wrong," John moans as he sits down in his chair and puts his face in his hands. "When are you going to give this up?"

"Right about now," Sherlock sighs. "It's not getting many results. You seem to dislike everything. Tell me, John, what sort of music do you even listen to?"

"I don't know. Mumford and Sons is something I've caught on the radio and kind of like. And I like listening to you play your violin, when you do it right. I don't know; I've never been much a fanatic for music."

"Hmm. Apart from well-orchestrated classical, neither have I. Still, I wondered what the buzz was about with some of this." He suddenly puts on a rather obnoxious noise of a woman's voice and odd, nearly hip-hop like sound, and John winces.

"God, what the fuck is that? It's heinous! Why is she singing to this garbage, or singing like that at all?" John wails.

"Some American named Nicki Minaj. Apparently, this is her style," Sherlock says, and he, too, is wincing. He stops the music and closes his laptop. "I will never understand Americans."