"Don't bother," says Sherlock: even he thinks better of relieving new arrivals of their petty cash, having at one point been a new arrival himself with terribly petty cash. He neglects to elaborate on his contradictory request, though; instead, as if taken by a sudden whim to an encore, he turns away and raises his bow again. He's smiling, though. Positive attention always has the same effect on him, even if he's not always good with responding to it.

This is a good context for him, though. He's never been good with thanks, he has no idea how to receive a compliment gracefully, but he's a performer in many respects and he certainly knows how to play on.

"In all fairness I've done Take Me Home Tonight before," he says. He leaves off in university, a long time ago. My friends loved it: one of them got up on a fountain, the lip of a stone fountain. I don't remember if he was dealing to me then. "Not the Skynyrd. Do you know Lynyrd Skynyrd are white supremacists, sort of? Spoils it, doesn't it?"

So he's learned the basics, more or less, and that saves Sherlock a bit of trouble. He can use his tablet better than Horst Brauer can (which is good, as he doesn't have Horst Brauer's excuse), Thank God, and that saves Sherlock quite a bit of trouble. His mind wanders back to the man's place and time. Lucky enough, there's a very convenient way to find out-- "Gotye's on probation," he remarks. "Fun.'s right out. You're lucky to find me now. Last year I was insisting on classical."