The Doctor looks up from his rough sketch and smiles pleasantly. While Holmes may not like him, he has every intention of not allowing Holmes' rather abrasive, pig-headed attitude affect his holographic life in any way.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes," he replies cheerfully. "Very well, thank you! It's nice to see you out and about!"

"I'd like to think of painting as a broadening, character-building experience," he responds, not losing one jot of his "bedside manner" cheer. The territoriality being exuded by Holmes doesn't appear to have any effect on him.

This isn't your art room, Mr. Holmes. Not anymore.

"It's relaxing, isn't it? And very inspirational. The way the brush feels on the canvas, the creation of an original and vibrant work of art. I think I'll make a habit of it." He points at Holmes with the pencil he's using and smiles almost cheekily. Cheekily, Holmes. "I think you'll be seeing a lot of me."

Oh ho ho, but you can't deny entrance to a hologram. Particularly not a tenacious one like the Doctor.

He starts to reply in kind to Homles, intending to counter with a very well-crafted argument of his own. However, it becomes clear that the great detective doesn't want conversation, and so the Doctor simply responds in his obnoxiously cheerful sing-song way, "Suit yourself."

He continues in silence for a few moments, but as he begins the actual task of painting, he starts to hum. No, it isn't La Donna e Mobile; instead, dear Holmes, please enjoy a very pleasantly hummed rendition of Habanera.

The Doctor continues on in this vein for a moment or two, blithely ignorant to Holmes and his furious painting as he concentrates on his own masterpiece.

A brush stroke here, some burnt sienna there, a few bars of Carmen's aria. The Doctor is in his own little world of paint, canvas, and opera. Holmes is not yet the Grand Poobah of the Art Room, and he fully intends to exploit his personal freedoms of creativity and song. Detective Sherlock Holmes or no Detective Sherlock Holmes.

Of course, he can't simply be satisfied with humming. He starts to mumble the words under his breath, but slowly builds until it's perfectly audible, though not yet belted, singing.

Not easily startled, the Doctor looks up from his canvas at Holmes with an expression that suggests it is not he, but Holmes causing the infernal rackets around here.

"Mr. Holmes, there's certainly no reason to shout. Some of us are trying to concentrate."

[The Doctor notices Omega's almost anti-social behavior, but doesn't comment on it immediately; he knows the man is having a rough time. Instead, he simply smiles in as bolstering and comforting a manner as possible.]

Hello, Omega.

Well, I'll admit, I feel a bit lost without an inmate...[He pauses.] But my duties in the infirmary are certainly keeping me occupied. I can't complain.

[He tilts his head slightly and frowns.]

How are you?

Not at all. I thought I'd get to know some of my fellow shipmates - and everyone's here in the dining hall, so...so am I.

[He doesn't comment about Cara and Merlin, but privately he notes that Merlin will probably be a much better warden to her. He does notice the pointed avoidance of his own question.]

Would you like to join me?

[He looks momentarily surprised, but recovers quickly.]

Of course.

[Gathering up his PADD, he rises from the table and claps a friendly hand on Omega's shoulder.]

Anything for a friend.

[He eyes the yogurt, but opts for the path of least resistance. At least he's eating - that's more than can be said for some of the Doctor's other patients.]

How is he?

A houseguest?

[He looked confused, his brow furrowing.]

I don't understand.

I see.

[He pauses, his frown deepening.]

I abstained from the vote. I didn't think it right that I should decide Narvin's fate when I've been offline and unable to get an idea of the full scope of what happened.