High Reason

The Case of Violin in the Dark

The Case of Violin in the Dark

Rummaging through the darkness and squinting at the dim light cast from the streetlamps outside, Sherlock at last found what he was looking for. Somehow it always got buried, no matter how regularly he got it out.

Clicking open the case, Sherlock lifted his violin from the padding and set it under his chin, tightening his bow and holding it poised for a moment above the strings, deep in thought.

Soon, a tentative melody came upon the shadows, filling the room in the absence of sight. It was not without odd notes and a few errant squeaks, but the detective plowed onward, swelling the tune and speeding it up, faster and faster until he felt as if his soul were on fire.

Abruptly, the light switching on put a stop to Sherlock's music-making.

"Turn that off!" he demanded, and John squinted in the bright light.

"What the bloody -"

"Turn it off..." Sherlock stalked across the room, flipping the switch down, before resuming his position before the window, a slim silhouette against the moonlight, and beginning to play once again. He stopped short in frustration.

"You made me lose my train of thought."

"You'll hurt your eyes, you need some light in here," John pointed out. "How on earth can you see what you're doing?"

"Playing from my head," Sherlock murmured. "I don't need to see anything."

John stood there in silence as once again the melody filled the night.

"Are you making that up?"

Sherlock managed to nod without lifting his chin from the instrument, and swept his bow over the strings in a final fermata...

"That was better," he said to himself.

"Better than what?"

"Than if I had played it in the light. When there's nothing else but sound, I play better, and it fills me, as if there were nothing else in the world."

"Listen to you, waxing poetic..." John chuckled as Sherlock flipped shut the case on his instrument and stowed it in the corner. "Violin in the dark?"

"Of course. It makes sense, really."

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