Ok, so it's a new story from me and I know that I should be updating my other stories, but I just had so much fun with this one! I didn't write this with Johnlock in mind, but if you want to think of it as that or Pre-Johnlock then that's fine by me.

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock

"John."

"Hmmm…"

"I'm bored."

"Great."

"It's not great John!"

"I know!"

"Then why did you say it was great?"

"It's called sarcasm Sherlock; don't tell me you've never heard of it."

"Of course I have."

"…"

"I'm still bored John."

"…"

"John."

"…"

"You're ignoring me John."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"JOHN, HELP ME! MY BRAIN IS EXPLODING WITH BOREDOM!"

"THEN USE IT TO FIGURE A WAY OUT OF THIS BLOODY MUSIC STORE!"

"Boring."

"Oh God…"

John sighed, dropping his head into his hands. Of all places, Sherlock had managed to get them locked in a music store that had been smuggling children and drugs out of the country. There was no cell phone coverage and John hadn't had time to text Lestrade before Sherlock had dragged him off. Which had led them into their current predicament.

Shifting his legs a little and giving them a bit of a stretch, John looked over to his flatmate who was currently pacing around. A few seconds, John had a lap full of Consulting Detective as said Consulting Detective had decided that there was enough room on the couch that John was also sitting on. Reacting instinctively, John hooked Sherlock's legs with both arms and shoved him away so that only Sherlock's torso and head were on the sofa.

Sherlock only grunted in response before falling silent again. John sighed and closed his eyes, feeling his mind wander through pointless thoughts and old memories that brought a smile to his face and others that made him grimace a little at the past. There was absolutely nothing for them to do, surrounded by musical instruments and locked in a large store with no hope of being found until morning.

John checked his watch and groaned. It was only three minutes later then the last time he'd checked and they still had another seven hours or so until the store opened for business and they were found.

"Bored John."

"Yes Sherlock, I know. Just… Try and entertain yourself for a little while."

"Why? What are you going to do that prevents you from helping me?" John closed his eyes and took a deep breath, not wanting to lose his temper over something as little as this. He opened them again to find the Sherlock was watching him, eyes wide and shinning in the almost darkness but still having that piercing look about them.

"I'm going to sleep Sherlock. I was up yesterday at six in the morning, after only five hours of sleep to go to the clinic where you picked me up at the end of my shift and since then I have been running around after you. It is now almost two o'clock in morning, I have been awake for about thirty-two hours on five hours rest and I want to sleep." Sherlock only blinked once before turning over and rolling on to the floor where he laid, arms and legs outstretched, pointedly not looking at John.

Now that the couch was free, John swung his legs up and nestled deeper into cushions before closing his eyes. He was allowed a few moments of peace, but just before he fell into slumber, a loud crash to his right jerked him back into consciousness.

A drum kit that had previously been standing upright with all the separate pieces in place was now lying all over the floor with an irritated Sherlock in the middle of the pile. One of the drums was rolling leisurely towards John before coming to a halt beside him. Neither man spoke until John broke the silence with a sigh and went back to trying to sleep. He'd clean it up later.

John actually managed to fall asleep before Sherlock started acting up again, which, in itself, was quite a miracle. It didn't last however, as his mind was suddenly filled with deep, mellow tones that were being played at just beyond the point of comfort. Half asleep, John covered his ears with his hands and buried his face further into the pillows, trying to block out the noise.

He had nothing against music, but when it was being played on purpose when he was trying to sleep, John's appreciation of the art vanished rapidly. As tempting as it was for John to lose his temper at his flatmate, the soldier had realized long ago that it had no effect on him and so he'd just be wasting his breath.

Luckily enough, it soon stopped. Sighing in contentment, John let his hands fall from the sides of his head and wrap around his jumper-clad torso. Hopefully Sherlock would quiet down soon.

He didn't.

The next thing John knew was that there was a trumpet next to his ear being played very loudly and very badly. John shot up into sitting position, shoulder and leg groaning as he tensed his muscles. His breathing was irregular and it was almost as if he'd been awoken by a nightmare. Except, this wasn't a nightmare.

Turning his head to the side, John looked down trumpet to the consulting detective on the other end, who at least had the sense to look a bit sympathetic and understanding. John didn't believe the eyes that were looking at him for a second.

"Sherlock! Please tell me that keeping me awake has some purpose and it's not just for attention!" Sherlock lowered the instrument to the ground and nodded, face sincere.

"It does John."

"What is it then? Because it doesn't seem to have any purpose to me!"

"You used to play the piano from the age of seven to the age of… I'd say twelve or thirteen, and then you quit taking lessons. You still kept it up for little while." John sighed, rubbing at his temples to try and lessen the headache that was beginning to form. Deciding to humor his flatmate, John nodded.

"Sometimes when we pass by stores like this one or when we're at a bookstore, you slow down a bit to look at the pianos in the windows or you leaf through music books. You obviously still know how to read music after all these years and I…" The hesitance in Sherlock's voice made John look up. His cheeks were slightly flushed and his eyes were flitting around, looking at everything besides John. The soldier grinned despite himself.

Sherlock Holmes was embarrassed.

"Yes. You were…" John pressed. Even in the low level of light, Sherlock looked hesitant and out of his depth.

"And I… I was wondering if you'd like to play with me. As a duet." It came out too fast for John to really catch what Sherlock was trying to say.

"Sorry, could you repeat that?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to play with me as a duet. I'd play the violin of course and you'd play the piano. No one has ever had enough patience with me to do a duet, and I want to see if I like it. If you want to that is." Sherlock hurriedly added the last part as if it would affect John's decision, but John had already made up his mind.

Even if he was horrible and it sounded all wrong, Sherlock couldn't fault him for trying and it would hopefully keep the detective occupied for some length of time. Standing up, John cracked his neck and pinched himself a couple time to wake himself up a little.

"Fine, but take it easy on me. I haven't played for a long time and will be rusty. I don't want you being all high and mighty and getting worked up about my playing skills." Sherlock was nodded at each of the conditions eagerly and John couldn't help but smile at how much he resembled a child at times like these.

"Lead on. I don't know where the piano is in this store or where they keep the music." Sherlock jumped up and grabbed John's sleeve, dragging him off on a fast tour of the building, picking up several music books along the way until they reached the piano.

It was a lovely thing. A baby grand, John's mind supplied to him as he walked around it, touching the keys gently and smiling as warm notes filled the store.

"So, what music do you want to play?" John had barely opened his mouth before sheets of music were being thrust in front of his face and placed on the stand. John sat down on the carved bench and began to leaf through the papers, eyes wide as he scanned the music.

"Sherlock… Sherlock! I can't play The Violin Sonata of Cesar Frank! I'm no professional! This is all far too complicated for me." John continued to flick through. "I haven't properly played a piano in over ten years and you expect me to play Brahms! This is ridiculous Sherlock! Is there anything simpler that you want to play?" John handed him back the collection of music, and tried to ignore the slightly hurt look that Sherlock quickly masked. It didn't work and John found himself apologizing.

"Sorry Sherlock. But it'll be pretty much impossible for me to play any of the pieces that you just handed to me. If you can find something else that is at an easier level and that you'll enjoy, I'll give it a go." Sherlock was silent a moment, the tension that hang between them thick like molasses. When he finally did speak, John had to lean forward a little to hear what he was saying.

"Fur Elise." And Sherlock turned around and headed back towards the shelves that held all the music. He returned a couple minutes later with sheets clutched in his hand. Giving them a quick glance, he handed them back to the doctor.

John glanced at the top of the sheet, squinting in the dim light. He could just make out the word Adapted at the top of the page and nodded to himself. Even with his rusty playing skills, John was fairly confident that he could play this piece after some practice. Sherlock had already pulled out a violin from the stores collection and was tuning it, plucking gently at the strings.

"I can't promise that it's great the first few times so just be patient Sherlock. I'll try my best." Sherlock only nodded minutely before going to turn on one of the smaller lights so that they could both read the music easier.

"You count us in Sherlock. It'll be easier that way." Sherlock did as John asked and soon music filled the air.

It wasn't perfect by any means, John making mistakes here and there, but Sherlock was patient with him and didn't lose his temper at the numerous faults. John's fingers began to find their rhythm once again and he lost himself in the act of playing, something he hadn't done in ages. The ivory of the keys was barely felt as John pressed down on them, relishing in the movement when it produced the correct sound and wincing a little when it turned out to be the wrong note.

Sherlock didn't make any mistakes, the genius that he was, but John found that he didn't care. It still sounded beautiful and John felt an almost sense of loss when the music finally stopped and silence started to replace the honey tones of the piano and violin.

John took his hands off the grand piano and grinned over at Sherlock, surprisingly pleased at how well he played. Sherlock returned the smile before placing the violin back under his chin and they began to play once again.

The next morning, two employees arrived at the store and began to open shop, but as they unlocked the door and entered, they were greeted with the sounds of a violin. A tall man with curly hair was playing a rendition of Fur Elise. The man on the floor, sound asleep and covered with a long Belstaff coat.

Yes, I know that John actually plays the clarinet, but I always thought that the piano would suit him better so that's why I had John play the piano in this story. Also, I am no musician so I don't really know if the music fits for their talents. Hope you all enjoyed it enough to review though!

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