Sherlock paused in his playing, hearing someone's footsteps on the landing. Probably Lestrade, sliding another dull case portfolio under the door. Rolling his eyes, he strode quickly across the flat. With John gone for the night to Mary Morstan's, Baker Street was threateningly dull.
To his surprise, what had been slid under the door was not a case file, but a piece of notebook paper. Obviously from the new tenant that was renting from Mrs. Hudson above 221b, Molly Hooper was her name. Worked at St. Barts. He'd yet to meet her (mostly due to him going out of his way to avoid her).
Assuming it was a noise complaint, he unfolding the note, quite prepared to smirk and play even louder. Surprised again, instead of a noise complaint, it was a request!
'A humble request to the violinist: Camille Saint-Saƫns - Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso'
Sherlock was amazed, well and truly amazed. He opened the door to 221b, and testing the strings, began quietly. After a few moments, the door upstairs opened, and soft footsteps were heard decending the stairway.
There stood the woman he'd avoided for three months. As the music picked up, Sherlock was caught in her gaze, captivated by her shy smile. He gave her a slight nod.
"My compliments on your choice of music, Miss Hooper."
She smiled, sitting down on the bottom step, cradling a glass of wine.
"He was my dad's favorite composer."
Another nod, and for a long while, the only sound eminating from the flat was the sound of Sherlock's violin.
Molly sat, silent and captivated until he finished. She set her still full glass down and applauded, loud and genuine.
"Would you like a glass of wine?" he blurted out as she stood to go.
"Oh, I um..." she looked at her still untouched glass.
"I have a very fine Chablis," he went on.
"This is just box wine," she murmured, cheeks tinged pink. "But the chablis does sound lovely."
"Please," he gestured back to 221b, stepping aside to let her go before him.
"I'd love to."
Shy smiles exchanged, he followed her into the flat, shutting the door behind them.
Downstairs, Mrs. Hudson stood at her doorway, holding her own glass of wine.
"Bout time those two finally met." she took out her mobile, sending a text to John's girlfriend, Mary.
He's finally met her. - Mrs. H.
What are they doing? - MM
Drinking wine while he plays his violin. - Mrs. H.
Cripes that didn't take long. Let me know if she goes home or not! - MM
Count on it! - Mrs. H.
