Author's Notes: I disagree with Sherlock's opinion here, but Sherlock strikes me as the type to be snotty about his music.

Fiddling: A Sherlockian Perspective

"Alright there, John?" Lestrade greeted the doctor come blogger cheerfully. "You're looking knackered. Sherlock not keeping you up at all hours, is he?"

"Ugh," was John's intelligent response to that.

Lestrade laughed, handing John a cup of tar-black coffee.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" John asked, taking the coffee almost gleefully.

Lestrade pointed to Sherlock. The detective was not three feet away, currently engaged in taking DI Dimmock through the particulars of their latest case. "Not my case. Don't have to deal with him for once."

Sherlock looked over and rolled his eyes.

"Think he heard you," John murmured, exhaustion giving way to fond amusement.

"Don't much care," Lestrade responded. "So what's up with you? Figured that with a case just finished Sherlock might let you sleep for once."

"That one," John cocked his head towards Sherlock, "decided to spend all night fiddling away."

"Playing," Sherlock interrupted, abruptly turning towards them. "I was playing my violin, John."

John scrunched up his forehead. "That's what I said, wasn't it?"

"No, you said I was 'fiddling.'"

"Right," John muttered. "Which you were, on your fiddle."

Sherlock stiffened. "My instrument is a violin, John."

"What's the bloody difference?" John asked in exasperation.

"Nothing," Sherlock said contemptuously, "if the only thing you are interested in is denotations. However, when taking connotations into consideration you may as well have accused me of spending the night playing a jig. Furthermore, a 'fiddle' may refer to any member of the family of bowed stringed instruments, even if it is most colloquially thought of as a violin. Therefore, in the interest of accuracy, my instrument would be best referred to as a violin. Thus, I was playing my violin."

"Sherlock, with that infernal noise you were making you're lucky I don't call it kindling," John griped, the stiffness in his shoulders making Lestrade wonder if he was going to punch Sherlock.

"I did warn you, John."

Lestrade watched in fascination as the mounting tension abruptly disappeared completely.

John grinned. "So you did."

Sherlock returned John's grin and turned back to Dimmock.

John refocused his attention on Lestrade. "Like I was saying, Sherlock spent the whole night playing away on his fiddle –"

"John!"