Sherlock sat in the living room in his chair, playing out a series of elegant, courteous notes that filled the air with a pleasant scent of warmth. John walked in and sat down opposite him, allowing his face to rest on his hands and he closed his eyes, basking in the glory of the wonderful music.
Sherlock opened an eyeball at John, who was unknowingly swaying to the music. Sherlock smiled and put down the instrument. "Do you, by chance, play anything, John?"
John sat back up abruptly. "I learned the clarinet at school, when I was younger."
Sherlock smirked and chuckled to himself. Score.
John cocked his head to the side a bit, and then shook it off. "Why do you ask?"
Sherlock played with the strings of the violin, looking at John with a soft gaze, his nose raised slightly. "Well, you seem interested in the violin. I figured that you had some sort of a passion for music."
"Well, it is beautiful music. You play it well." Sherlock smiled with his mouth and delicately traced the bow with his first finger. He eyeballed John, and his lips shifted into a smug grin. "Would you like to learn?"
"God, yes." John smiled as Sherlock came up to him and handed him the violin. "Be careful with it, If you do anything as little as scratch it, I will steal your computer again."
John sighed. "I promise." He tenderly took the violin from Sherlock's hands and held it right below his neck, and Sherlock pushed it further down his shoulder. "No, no. Make sure your chin is just slightly to your left, but not too much. You should be able to see the strings. Be comfortable." John shifted the position a bit, and held the bow up slightly.
Sherlock groaned. "No, make sure your elbow is up all the way, don't let it fall." He held up John's elbow into the right position, and John shook a bit from the cold touch. He closed his eyes and went back to normal, ignorant of Sherlock's tenger, gentle touch.
Sherlock took the bow from him and modeled his fingers on the bow. "Your first finger should be on top, holding it steady. Your other two fingers go in this crevice-" He demonstrated with his own nimble hand, and John watched as the bones in Sherlock's hand guided themselves so smoothy along the wood of the bow. John followed suit, and placed his fingers in the right position, and Sherlock nodded.
After a brief (and a bit terrible) explanation of the notes, Sherlock looked at John as he tried to play, and they both winced when he made a very loud squeaking noise very similar to nails on a chalkboard. Sherlock stood behind him, trying to demonstrate how soft he should be on the strings.
John groaned. "I can't learn with you standing next to me like that."
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I'm trying to help you, John. Here."
John shivered a bit as Sherlock stood directly behind him, and held John's hand softly as he guided the bow along the strings softly, emulating a sweet but faint sound as it filled the flat with a warm aura. They stood there for a bit, Sherlock towering over John a bit, moving his hand with his own, and John closing his eyes, lost in thought.
After quite a bit of the same routine, Sherlock coughed. "Um, John?"
John was lost in sweet thoughts about the man standing behind him. "Uh, yes?" He asked, a bit dazed.
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "We've been doing this for ten minutes."
John was still in a half-asleep, peaceful expression. "Hm?"
Sherlock shook his head and smiled. "Nothing," he said, and they continued to bask in the sweet melody of the tenter instrument and their smiles.