Title: The Violin
Author: Nao aka SuperMiss
A/N: I was reading again Doyle's short stories and this popped up in my mind. Violin as a mean of communication, John reading too much in it perhaps.
Happiness wasn't so easy, with that man, John thought. But when Sherlock played the violin, it always meant something.
There was that one time, John recalled, when he was having nightmares which took him back to the war, and Sherlock had reached him with his violin, entering his dreams and taking him away from the hot sands of Afghanistan.
Right now, he was playing an angry gigue, and it made shivers ran up John's spine. Sherlock was angry, and so was his music. And John knew he wasn't responsible, but the notes still pierced right through him.
"Sorry", Sherlock said later. At least the music did, not him, he was way too proud for that.