A/N: I don't even remember the when I wrote this. I forgot I even wrote it! Okay, I know practically everything in this is politically incorrect, so far as the cannon goes, but it's a nice little thing.
In all my years of life, I have seen some of the most beautiful things that a human could imagine, things that you would be amazed, and your curiosity would wonder how Mother Nature can create such beautiful works of natural art. But none compares to hearing Sherlock Holmes play his violin for the first time ( that is when he produces anything that can be called music!) We were done moving in to the old rooms of 221b Baker Street, and Holmes and I fell silent after my reading of a rather interesting article in " The London Times" Something or the other about some small shortcomings in the Strand. Holmes was engaging upon his calabash, and had been in a rather laconic mood. My concentration was absorbed from my article to my new companion. I had finally learned only yesterday his true occupation, the worlds first unofficial consulting detective. A rather absurd article had caught my attention only twenty four hours ago, it was indefinitely absurd enough! By looking at a person, the author assumed that he could just glace at a man, and could determine their occupation somewhat , the charlatan! I was of course nothing short of astonished when, having heard, that Sherlock Holmes had written that article! I believe he entitled it " The Book of Life." also known as his magnum opus, as he called it. Well back to the point. I stared hard at my companion, he was just sitting there smoking his shag, his closed eyes opened, as he looked at me he stated,
"Do you want to ask me a question? Or is there some other reason you're staring at me?"
"Um….No you just interest me." He laughed hard.
"I believe I should be honored that someone has taken interest in me. But when a doctor takes interest in someone the conclusion may end with a syringe, and a strait jacket!" He humored.
"No, not at all, I just don't know all that much about you."
"Anything you would like to know within reason?" He asked casually. I thought for a moment and a small black case had caught my eye.
"What's that?" I asked.
"What? Oh this," He stood, and walked to the case, and picked it up.
"My Stradivarius."
"You play?"
"My dear fellow, when you see a man with a violin, is it not natural to assume he plays? People are getting less, and less observant each day." I ignored his comment, and nodded.
"I bought it at a small store, on Philips street. It was only fifty five shillings. Not a very expensive store, I might add…"
"Could you play it?" I asked anxiously. "I love the violin."
"I suppose it wouldn't hurt anything, but don't be surprised if you can no longer hear your patients dilemma again. I fear I'm not very good."
"I shall the judge of that."
"Very well." He took his violin out of its case, rosined the fragile horsehairs on the bow, tucked the black pad under his chin, and started to play. It was amazing to hear the way the strings sang, like an opera held in heaven. He played for a quarter of an hour or so, when he stopped I clapped, and he bowed.
"Thank you for such a fiery applause, Watson, I like an audience from time to time."
"You were wonderful my dear Holmes, positively stupendous!"
"Thank you, now I shall retire, it's ten forty five already, much past my bed time. Good night Watson."
"Good night, Holmes"
And that is the rather limited story of my first encounter with Sherlock Holmes, and his violin. (And must more enjoyable than most...)
The End
A/N: Well I hope you enjoyed it. Maybe not a heart-pounding, tear-jerking piece, but hopefully it will redeem me from that horrible "Would you Change?" songfic I published. As always, please r&r! Thank you!