It was this dry spell between cases that Sherlock Holmes detested so much. The lack of activity, the loss of something to occupy his mind… He couldn't stand it. Long, thin fingers drummed on the arm of his chair, his other arm leaning on the opposite side with his chin resting against his clenched hand.
Restless, restless, restless.
How could normal people stand these quiet moments? In fact, how could many of them even go so far as to crave them? As far as Sherlock was concerned it was almost enough to drive him insane. Almost.
In a jolt of decision, the Detective stood, striding over towards the music stand in the corner of the room. Slender fingers grasped the violin case propped up against the wall next to it and flicked the clasps open. Inside sat his Stradivarius, his most prized possession, along with one of his biggest distractions. Removing it from the case, he lifted it up and rested the end of it on his shoulder, bringing his chin down to rest on it. His other hand brought out the bow from inside the casing, laying the hair against the strings.
Blue eyes closed themselves automatically as he took the stance he knew all too well and the bow started to move whilst his fingers danced across the neck of the Violin, pressing down on the strings to create a small musical world of his own to hide away in. A world all of his own. The music lilted into a soft tune as he imagined it, creating lives and cases to keep his mind occupied… As his thoughts drifted, the music became faster, needier… He needed a cigarette…He needed something to clear his mind of this constant itch he had gained since John and Mycroft had joined forces in removing all addictions from Sherlock's life. It turned again… This time an urgent, quiet theme. Moriarty. What was the criminal up to now? What was he planning? He had been quiet for far too long now. Far too long… He had to be up to something, he had to be planning someway of breaking this ordinary world that the two inhabited.
"Aaahh…" The music stopped abruptly as Sherlock's eyes snapped open, the illusion shattered as he stared over towards the table where his mobile was sat. Holding on to the neck of the Stradivarius, he crossed over to the table and picked the Blackberry up from its surface, opening the text message.
'Tick, Tock, darling. The clock is ticking down and you are still no closer to finding me.
I'm still waiting for you.
JM.'
Well then… Sherlock's thin lips twitched into a miniscule smirk.
"Think of the devil and he shall appear…" He muttered to himself. Striding more purposefully back to the Music stand, he replaced the Violin and bow in it's before leaning it back against the wall in its usual place.
'I'm not as many steps behind you as you seem to believe… Still, I shall be even closer once you make your next move.
SH.'
This is all it was for the pair, as far as either of them was concerned, this was all a grand game.
And oh what a marvelous game it was shaping up to be…
"Aaahh…"
Glancing down at his phone, caused the thin smirk to widen slightly as Sherlock pocketed his phone, grabbing his coat which was hanging over the back of John's chair and throwing it over his shoulders as he left the flat he shared with his friend.
'I've already made my move. Angel Station.
Checkmate.
JM.'
