"I wasn't expecting this." John said with raised eyebrows as he walked forward into a room full of musical instruments.
The Consulting Detective and his blogger had been forced to leave Baker Street after a security alert and were temporarily, and rather reluctantly, staying in Mycroft's grand townhouse across the city. The government official had encouraged them to make themselves at home while he was at work and they'd done exactly that. Sherlock had led the way on a tour of the house, exploring every inch of the place.
"Why not? You know that I play the violin." Sherlock replied, walking in and lifting a priceless Stradivarius from its stand.
"I didn't think that Mycroft would have time for music." John admitted, looking around.
"I doubt he has time to play nowadays, but in our youth he dedicated most of his time to learning to play music. He is an accomplished musician." Sherlock replied, gently tuning the old violin.
John sat down on the bench beside the grand piano, running his hand over the perfectly polished lid that hid the keys from view. "Do you know the full list of the instruments that he can play?" he asked curiously.
"He plays the piano, the cello, the violin, the viola, the double bass, the flute, the guitar, the mandolin and probably many more." Sherlock replied, lifting the ancient bow and placing it against the strings of the violin.
John closed his eyes as Sherlock began to play a careful, but no less lively rendition of a Bach violin solo.
After a couple of minutes of playing, Sherlock carefully placed the violin down on its stand, running his hand over the neck of the instrument. It was exquisitely carved and in pristine condition.
"Mycroft taught me to play the violin." Sherlock said, glancing over at John, "He was determined for me to enjoy music and after trying to teach me many instruments, I took to the violin."
"How long did it take for you to learn to play properly?" John asked.
"A year. Most take multiple years but I demanded that Mycroft teach me everything. I barely put the violin down and I insisted that he teach me during every one of his waking hours." Sherlock replied with a slight chuckle, remembering those happy days with his brother, "He was more than happy to teach me, although he barely slept for a year to help me to learn."
"Mycroft?" Sherlock said, walking over and sitting beside his brother on the piano bench.
Mycroft was playing a gentle symphony of his own composition. He brought it to a close and opened his eyes, allowing his mind to wake from its relaxed slumber. "Yes, little brother?" he replied.
"Why do you play the piano?" Sherlock asked, reaching out and pressing one of the keys.
"Playing music allows me to switch off my mind for a little while. It refreshes me." Mycroft replied, gently manipulating Sherlock's hand so he was in the correct position to play a chord.
"I want to switch off my mind too." Sherlock said, pressing down and playing the chord.
"Then I will teach you to play music." Mycroft replied with a smile, looking down at his small brother. He knew that if it weren't for the age difference, they'd be inseparable.
"I don't want to play that one anymore." Sherlock said, looking over at the guitar.
"Sherlock, you've gone through four instruments in as many weeks. Learning takes time." Mycroft sighed, gently plucking the strings of his violin as he spoke.
"Can I play that?" Sherlock asked, pointing at the violin.
"Okay, but this is the last one we're going to try." Mycroft replied with a sigh. He walked over and began to teach Sherlock how to hold the violin. Within an hour, Sherlock had mastered a basic tune and within two it was clear that Sherlock had found his instrument of choice.
"Mycroft! Mycroft!" Sherlock shouted as he threw open his brother's bedroom door.
Mycroft groaned as Sherlock jumped on him, looking up at his brother through bleary, sleep-filled eyes. "Sherlock? It's the middle of the night." he yawned.
"I want to show you something!" Sherlock replied, full of excitement and wide awake.
Mycroft yawned and slowly sat up, looking at his own violin that Sherlock had in his hand. "Okay, show me, but be quick. I have important exams tomorrow." he said.
Sherlock began to play a tune of his own making and Mycroft was soon wide-awake, reminding him about posture and correct finger positioning.
Just one short year later, Mycroft left for university. Sherlock was distraught that his brother and adviser in all matters had suddenly left him on his own. In a rage brought on by frustration and a feeling of betrayal, he destroyed Mycroft's violin. He snapped it into pieces and set it alight in the fireplace. Once the violin was gone, turned to ashes in the flames, Sherlock sat down. He was left with a feeling of emptiness. The violin had been Mycroft's but it had also been his own.
When Mycroft returned for Christmas after his first term at university, he knew that something was wrong.
Gone was the little boy clutching the violin as if it were a teddy bear and in his place was a still, silent and brooding boy.
Mycroft went to his bedroom and searched for the violin, desperate to appease Sherlock's anger towards him. When he couldn't find the instrument, he guessed what had happened. Sherlock had cast the violin aside as he'd also done Mycroft.
"I have something for you." Mycroft said as he stood outside of the latest rehab facility with his brother. It had taken multiple attempts and years to finally get Sherlock to give up his drug habit.
"Oh yes? What would that be?" Sherlock asked, lighting his cigarette, "You've already given me this vastly overpriced Belstaff."
Mycroft opened the car door beside him and pulled out a violin case.
"I understand that this may be a sore subject for you, but you were very skilled." Mycroft said as an explanation, "Even if I never hear you play again, I want you to be able to play for yourself. Nothing cleanses the soul like music."
"You don't deserve to hear my music. You are no brother of mine." Sherlock snapped, snatching the violin case and strolling away.
"Having a band rehearsal, are we?" Mycroft said with his usual condescending tone as he stood in the doorway of the music room.
John immediately stood up, feeling on edge and as though he'd been caught doing something dishonest.
"We were admiring your Stradivarius." Sherlock said without looking up at his brother, "How much was it?"
"Far too much." Mycroft chuckled a little, moving closer towards the priceless instrument, "You are welcome to it, it will be yours one day anyway. It is said to have a heavenly sound and to be a dream to play."
"You've never played it? Or even heard it played?" John asked in surprise, "But Sherlock told me that you taught him to play the violin?"
"Yes, well, that was some time ago. Things are different now." Mycroft replied, although his fingers twitched with his sudden need to hear the violin sing, "This is a collector's piece, a memento of a bygone era. It reminds me of all that I have lost."