Happy New Year to you all! I have watched E1 S2 loads already and so compelled to write a few chapters of small 'missing scenes' that I am sure only exist in my brain... All learning towards slashy goodness of course ;) Please Read and leave comment.
Should old acquaintance be forgot…
He stands at the window with his back to me and brings the violin up to its natural resting place. I've never taken the time to look at it close up before, I mean really look at it properly. In the glare of the Christmas lights about our window, I now see that it is cracked and stripped of its varnish in places and looks as bare and worn out by the chase as its owner.
"So she's alive then?"- I say nervously. "How are we feeling about that?"
The bell signalling the end of one year and the beginning of a new one tolls in the distance casting London in a very strange half-life for me. It feels like a stale mate. A cross-roads of sorts. I stare at my feet, taking my chance to show all the cards I have left amongst this horrid business that has bought me to my senses.
"Do you think you'll be seeing her again?"
He glances at me from over his shoulder and smiles to himself. As per usual, he doesn't have to say a word.
"Good." I say quietly, nodding to myself in relief and suddenly finding the glass in my hand very interesting. "Okay. Good."
"….I mean, not good if that's not what you want. It's really nothing to do with me, I was just…."-messing this up? Sounding like a selfish prick? He watches me in fascination and raises a tell-tale eyebrow. He does adore reading me.
"I think she's taken up enough of our time, don't you?"
He pauses for a second and I see him bite his bottom lip; a gesture I know he enlists when he is unsure of whether what he is about to say is 'acceptable'. He seems to change his mind at the venture entirely and turns back to the window.
"Happy New Year John."
He brings the antique looking instrument back up to his shoulder and begins to play the slow, beautifully perfect notes of 'Auld Lang Syne', but then abruptly falls silent.
"There was, however, one more thing she asked of me."
"Oh?"- I say trying not to sound disappointed.
He turns his face towards me, regarding my eyes upon the floor.
"Later"-he says changing his mind once more. "Later John."
I feel exhausted all of a sudden; the weight of the unsaid words still within me are cold and mocking, playing heavily upon my mind. I place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze it gently; the most sentiment I will be allowed this evening and take my chair to listen to his note filled conversation. I don't fight the sleep that creeps up on me whilst listening to his melodies.
She had been 'The Woman' in every sense of the word, the only woman that had gotten his attention at least. I'm sure she felt otherwise, in fact I knew it. Once again it was the chase that he had loved; not her. The rest had been interesting and head turning yes, but not in the way one might suspect for him. It was never what one expected with Sherlock; my continual life lesson it seems.
However, none of these misunderstandings on her part had helped to quell the tide of jealousy that had begun to swell in my stomach very early on. She had immediately observed the effect that her Sherlock-based behaviour had upon myself and had revelled in it. They were alike in that way; Sherlock and 'The Woman'. However, Sherlock would only ever use his deducting skills for science alone. She used it to hurt, extract and withdraw. A social Scorpion it seems.
I am in that blissful place between wakefulness and sleep when I realise he has stopped playing.
"John, wake up," he says gently.
I frown at him through a sleepy haze. "Sssshhhh, John's sleeping," I say with a smile, closing my eyes again. "Please keep playing Sherlock. There's no better way of seeing in a New Year."
He doesn't. Instead he takes the sagging glass from my hand that was in danger of spilling and keeps his hand around mine.
"Stand up John."
I do so, having been awoken by his sudden and uncharacteristic touch.
"What is it, what's wrong Sherlock, you look….."
"I need to see if she was right."
He takes my other hand in his, the slight calloused tips of his musical fingers dancing around my wrists. He moves a little closer, close enough for me to feel his breath on my cheek and leans in completely as he takes my right wrist and pulls it around his waist. I lean in also, unable to control the hammering in my chest. Before I can close the gap between us, I feel the pressure points of his fingers ghost around my radial pulse.
"It appears she was correct," he says before I can pull him the rest of the way to me and finish what he has started. "I imagine you think that love is a mystery to me John Watson, but the chemistry is incredibly simple and very distractive in fact. Now, let me show you a better way to start the year."