A Song Through Time by Gracie Holmes

As with most things she happened to do, meeting one of her most interesting and closest friends didn't happen in the right order for River Song. Time travel threw a loop into life, but she wouldn't have it any other way. Sherlock Holmes was one of those people she kept coming back to. An extraordinary man with an insatiable thirst for knowledge. One man she was privileged to know for a very long time. And deep within her journal were snippets about him. Tales of adventure, admirations... and music.

River Song's journey with Sherlock Holmes began at the end. Time was relative and complicated, but it was fitting for someone as complicated and enigmatic as River Song.

Christmas Eve 1981

Sherlock Holmes had been begging for violin lessons for nineteen whole days before Mummy finally arranged for a teacher. Later he'd learn that Mycroft helped coax her. Sherlock had been almost four years old at that time.

The first year of lessons went well. Sherlock was a quick study, always had been, at least compared to other children. So he took to it like a fish to water. It was something he was better at than Mycroft, it was the very first thing he'd been better at than his brother. Mycroft played the piano like he did most anything he wasn't terribly interested in. Lazily.

And it was in the mid afternoon of the day before his fourth Christmas that William Sherlock Scott Holmes met River Song for the first time. He was standing in the Holmes family room, violin under his chin and bow in his right hand. The sun was streaming through the nearby window, casting sunlight over his young but identifiably angular face. He was entirely focused on making sure this violin piece went as it should.

It was Christmas after all.

There was just a light dusting of snow outside, but his sharp eyes caught sight of a curly blonde haired woman outside. He stared at her a moment, unconsciously shifting towards the light outside. Only to have her catch his eye through the window. She smiled.

Sherlock's curiosity was piqued. And he was sure he wanted to investigate. Perhaps she was one of mummy's university friends. Mycroft would have said no to speaking to a stranger, so of course that was the final thing that pushed him to make the decision. Violin still in hand, he walked to the window and unlatched it. Something he was adept at doing, anyways. Across the house, Redbeard barked, but Sherlock didn't pay any attention.

He leaned out the window and stared at her as she approached. "Who are you?" He demanded.

Her mouth twitched into a smile again, pink lipstick. He noticed. Her voice was smooth, her accent hard to pin down exactly. She must travel extensively. "I'm Professor River Song."

"You're not from here, are you?" Sherlock asked, his little voice dropping in seriousness.

"No, I'm not."

Sherlock squinted his eyes at her, trying to figure out who she was. He wasn't getting very far and he huffed a little sigh. "My brother is teaching me de-deductions. He always wins."

"Oh don't worry, William. You'll beat him sometime, I'm sure."

At that his eyes narrowed. "It's Sherlock. How do you know my name?"

"We've met before."

"I don't remember." He shifted the violin in his hand and stuck a lip out. "I've got a good memory, I would have."

River laughed quietly, affectionately. "I know, you're very smart."

"Mycroft says I'm a stupid little boy."

"You are not a stupid little boy, William." River crouched down to be eye level with him, a smile pulling at her lips again. "You are a very special boy, and you're very smart. Shouldn't listen to everything your brother says."

Sherlock's piercing blue eyes stared her down and then he gave a little shrug of his thin shoulders. "Okay."

"Now….Sherlock Holmes. Perhaps you should try and deduce me." River suggested, glancing away from him for a brief moment before bright eyes returned to her young friend. "I think you can."

Sherlock's brow pinched. "You don't look ordinary." He said first. "Your….clothes don't quite make sense. You travel a lot."

"Quite right." River smiled proudly. "Try some more. Think of the impossible…and then think bigger."

Sherlock thought, but his four year old mind couldn't figure out the possibility of time travel quite yet. That was still on the list of impossible things as far as he and his brother were concerned. He'd already tried, wanting to travel to see seventeenth century pirates. He gave up his attempt, pouting just a bit. "I don't know."

"And you don't like not knowing, do you? I'll give you a hint…I'm a bit mad." River asked him with a fond smile. "You'll understand someday, William. I promise."

"Why not now?"

"Because you're not old enough."

"I'm almost five. That's old enough, isn't it?"

River Song didn't reply to that question and instead asked another one. "What are you playing today?"

"I'm working on a Christmas medley." Sherlock answered proudly. "Three songs in one. It's going to be brilliant."

"I'm sure it will be." River laughed quietly. "Do I get a preview?"

"If you remember to clap after I'm done." Sherlock returned with a mischievous smile on his young face, on that would follow him into adulthood.

That day, Sherlock's violin piece was complete and perfect. The melody was finished and whole as he'd learnt it. And he played proudly for this stranger, completely oblivious to the part she'd play in his future. Because the melody was about to get a lot more complicated from there.

River watched him play with a quiet fond appreciation, and was equally quiet about her book full of secrets. He'd learn soon enough.