Title: The Midnight Violin
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (ACD)
Rating: G
Length: 482
Summary: Holmes is playing late at night

I groaned and pulled the pillow over my head. Holmes was currently engaged with a number of cases, but one in particular was troubling him at the moment. It was troubling both of us, but I had not resorted to playing my violin extremely loudly and discordantly at past midnight. Suddenly Holmes uttered a loud oath and the music ceased and I thought no more of it, simply being grateful that I could finally get to sleep.

When I made it down to breakfast the following morning, later than usual but I doubted Mrs Hudson would be surprised, Holmes was not around, although his hat was, and I concluded he was either asleep or more likely thinking in his room. However, his violin case, which he normally kept on a shelf in his bedroom, remained in his armchair. Curious, I opened the lid to discover the cause of the sudden silence, which became immediately apparent. One of the strings had broken, clearly in protest at the hard use it had been subjected to.

I ate my breakfast and then went out. I had a number of errands I wished to run, and it was as I was heading home, having completed them all to my satisfaction, that I found myself walking past a music shop. I slowed and looked into the window. It occurred to me that I might buy Holmes a replacement string. While I was happy not to have another disturbed night, I also felt sorry for Holmes, knowing how much the opportunity to play his violin meant to him.

Accordingly, I entered and asked the shopkeeper for a violin string.

“Certainly, sir, which make do you wish for?”

“Um, well, it’s for a Stradivarius.”

“Very good, sir. And which string?”

“I’m sorry?”

“E, A, D or G?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s not for me, you see.”

“Do you know which number string?”

“Oh yes. The third from the left.”

“The A string. Here you are, sir.”

I thanked the man and hurried home, hoping that I had made a sensible purchase, for it had been considerably more complicated than I had expected.

When I arrived back in our rooms, it was to find Holmes sitting solemnly in his armchair, his violin nowhere in sight.

I handed over the string, saying, “I hope this is correct.”

He took the little box, looked at it and leapt up, exclaiming, “Watson, it is perfect.”

He retrieved his violin and set about restringing it. When Mrs Hudson brought up our luncheon, she pulled a face on seeing the violin, but noticing Holmes’ improved mood, restrained herself from saying anything.

I would like to say that in gratitude for my gift, Holmes did not play his violin that night, but it was not the case. However, he devoted himself to playing nocturnes and I was able to fall asleep while listening to them.