A/N: There's a phrase in there that gives away the song I was listening to when I wrote this. There will be ( hopefully) something like that in every little...story thing. If there isn't then I'll let you know. A simple drawing to the person that can correctly guess the song for each story. Enjoy.
How many times have I played the Stradivarius that currently leans against my chair? More than one could count or at least keep track of. I confess that I don't know the answer to my own question. But how many times have I played to help a friend? The answer to that is a fair few and to-night added another tally to the count.
Perhaps I can help people in more ways than one. Strangers come to me to request my assistance in finding a missing object or person, to provide proof that a family never committed a crime that could bring ruin to the name. They come and request that I cover something up and brother Mycroft comes to demand my service in matters of utmost important to the government.
However, I seem to help Watson in a different way. As I turn the violin on my knee the firelight glints off the strings and the polished wood behind them and I think of how many times I have helped my dear Watson forget about life for awhile. These strings have helped him forget and remember, have made him cheerful or helped to calm him and lull him to sleep.
What these strings have assisted me in, in terms of helping a friend, Watson can do for me with just his presence. I look again at the violin that now resides on my lap and wonder just how many more times I will be able to make these strings the instrument of comfort to the war veteran that snores softly on the couch. I think of that and a sadder thought forces itself into my mind. What will happen when I am no longer here with the Stradivarius to bring comfort to my dearest friend?