At eleven o'clock the rain began to fall in leaden sheets outside; even the howling winds carried the redolence of a fresh storm. It served as a kind of warning, to any and all who cared to listen, that it would be a mistake to leave the comfort of their homes that evening.
However, he was not one who decided to heed it.
At twelve-thirty, the sound of the downpour was hindered when he arose to lift the esteemed instrument carefully from its case. Seeming almost to float and dance upon the stagnant air, the soft chords and melody of 'Le Ménétrier' drifted throughout the room, breaking the silence.
The song, though lovely, still resonated from something as hollow as the one who held it.
When the chime that meant two o' clock rang out, the violin was retired and another hardcover book removed from the voluminous shelf. Chosen at random, it happened to be an extensive novel; an ancient classic titled Two Years Before The Mast. On opening it he was pitched head-first into the world of bygone sailors and sunrises, and Canton traders, and the majesty of the sea under star-light in the close of day.
For only a mere, fleeting, moment, he wished he could see it for himself, but thereafter the feeling was gone.
The reading commenced until exactly four fifty-seven, when the first signs of morning proceeded to show themselves through the night that nonetheless lingered. Dim light emitted from gaps in the shutters and fissures in the window, casting lines of shadow on the linoleum. The roaring thunder quieted; even the drizzle let up, leaving the earth a in a quiet, misty haze.
Even so, the noises that would have told him the realm was beginning to stir fell to deaf ears.
Then it was six-eighteen, when the world declared itself to be on the start of a new day, and expected its inhabitants to get up and live in its presence.
And, they all did.
All but him, who had fallen asleep at long last, his silent breathing unbroken. The book was clasped in his hand; the page unmarked because of course, he'd remember it.
For when the sky awoke, Sherlock Holmes did not.