He stands silhouetted by the streetlights, strained through the waterlogged windows. It is raining and the patter of drops is a quiet staccato accompaniment.
The thin strains of violin start slowly and work up to a slight crescendo. He pauses, and scrapes a barely audible lullaby of small notes, now curling his body in around his instrument like they are having a private conversation. Which, I suppose, is exactly what is happening.
His posture opens and the notes lengthen and broaden again, expansive in sadness. He keeps to a major progression though. There remains a hopefulness to it.
It thins toward solitude, then abruptly stutters out.
He slowly lowers the bow and violin to hang at his sides, and stares out the window, oblivious to me entirely.
As the rain continues its susurration, he continues his vigil. Though I have never heard this particular tune before, I know why it distracts him so, and for whom it was composed.
Tonight belongs to memories of The Woman.
I gather my laptop and retire to my room. He doesn't turn around.
I look out my own window, heart heavy with the knowledge that she is dead.
Mycroft was right; fearing she was dead once was a serious blow. To keep him from that pain again, I had to lie to him. I would make the same choice again, but it takes a toll. One day I fear he will see through me, and the betrayal may end us.
I hear him gather his things and head to his room. Ah, so he has deduced the subject of my composition. I wish I could make it easier for him. I know it burdens him so that he went along with Mycroft's plans to hide her death from me. I wish I could let him in on the secret that she is not gone after all, but her safety is paramount and Mycroft would find a way to learn about it if John knew. He may in any case, but if John doesn't know, I can't blame him later if it leaks. Mycroft will have her killed if he finds she is alive, unless he thinks he can use her.
I will have to cross that bridge when I come to it.
I tuck my violin under my chin, and begin a new composition. Hopefully, John is still listening. This one is how I shall say thank you.
A/N: Inspired by the song Comfort Zone by General Fuzz. This song is actually an instrumental, and is imagined as being played in the fic. I recommend loading it up on YouTube while you read, if you are so inclined.