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Exhibiting gentlemanly manners, John escorted Sarah to their seats in Wigmore Hall for the musical competition that promised to be both highbrow and interesting, and perhaps to solve a puzzle.
With fashion feedback from Sherlock, whose taste John actually trusted, the doctor had dressed in his civilian best suit and tie, whilst Sarah (once her coat was checked) apparently needed no such guidance to appear tastefully attired in a little black dress, classy pumps, and a beaded shawl that draped across one shoulder. Sizing each other up with a wink and smile, they both felt a little out of their element as they demurely read through the program. John silently thanked Sherlock for pointers about the evening, which he used in conversation with Sarah before the musicians took the stage.
"Preliminary rounds, a tough pre-competition phase, were held in early December before a jury," John spoke softly as Sarah listened, her head bowed and tilted toward John. With her hair swept stylishly back, a sparkle of earring kept catching John's eye. "That jury determined which competitors would qualify for tonight's evening recital. Six finalists were notified a little more than a week ago."
"So that explains the short notice; not that I was your last choice." Sarah half jested with an enlightened nod. "This is very elegant. I'm glad to be here. Rearranging my schedule took some effort, but it's all worth it," she whispered back. "Now, I'll keep my fingers crossed that my one possible emergency call can hold off altogether."
"Have to say I appreciate you being here. It's obvious I'm a fish out of water. Besides, your lovely company," John gave her a shy smile, "will make this evening more meaningful to me." He knew better than to tell her Sherlock had been the first person he asked.
She tugged on her earring thoughtfully. "So you still don't know who sent you these tickets and why?"
"I only know I'm in the right place because his name is listed in the program."
Sarah gave him a less-than-shy-glance which brightened her smile. "Okay, Mr. Music Professor, tell me more about this…." She read the program title "…this January 6th International Strings Finalist Competition, we are attending." Her lighthearted giggle was soft and intimate.
Blushing to his ears, John was surprised by his own bashfulness. With a responsive smile he played along. "As you wish, my lady. Tonight is the final round. Directly after the concert, they will announce the results, and three top performers will be awarded prizes."
Sarah may not have been listening closely because her smile was warmer, her eyes brighter, and her fingers somehow became entwined through John's. The last thing he heard was her seductive giggle when suddenly excited applause erupted and the auditorium lights dimmed.
The brief confusion in John's mind cleared as the judges took center stage to introduce the event.
Each of the six competing finalist was required to play two pieces: a classical work from the preassigned list and an original piece. Checking the program, John saw that William Scott, his mystery man, would be the fifth to perform.
John sat back with Sarah, their hands clasped, to listen and learn. During the performances, he studied the musicians' fingering and bowing, or closed his eyes to catch cadences and phrasing that demonstrated agility and command. His understanding had certainly improved within the past week, when Sherlock began explaining musical theory to John in a crash-course on music appreciation.
"You have a natural ear for music, John. You just don't understand what you're hearing."
"Picked up the flute for a year or two in primary school," John conceded, "but there wasn't an opportunity to go farther; it just wasn't practical."
"Listen again to this." Raising the bow, Sherlock placed the violin between his chin and shoulder and demonstrated another dynamic phrasing of an original melody.
"Now that…." John exhaled, "was splendid. That much I know, but why or how has always eluded me, except music when it is good, like what you just played, affects me emotionally….."
During the evening's competition, none of the performers, to John's ear, seemed at all amateurish. Each professionally rendered a masterful classical piece, the nuances of their technique and artistry escaped him, but he felt with the background lessons Sherlock had provided, he had a greater appreciation for the entire event.
An occasional glance toward Sarah, or a tightening of their held hands, told him she was enjoying the performances as well.
Once the fourth competitor began her classical piece, John thoughts strayed to his partner at home, who despite his protests, would have certainly enjoyed this. As far as John was concerned, Sherlock was just as good as any of the performers he heard so far, possibly even better.
When the fourth competitor withdrew from the stage amid loud applause, John sat up in great anticipation.
Unexpectedly, a solitary man, one of the judges, walked formally to center stage holding a microphone to make an announcement. "Ladies and Gentlemen, we ask your indulgence regarding a slight scheduling change. Penelope Hathaway will precede William Scott in the program. Thank you."
John sat back with disappointment and raised a questioning eyebrow toward Sarah. Unfortunately, Sarah was checking her paging device, her face showing great regret. Gotta go. My emergency! You stay, she mouthed, blew him a kiss, and discretely evacuated her seat and the hall before Penelope Hathaway had settled into her recital.
John was of a half mind to follow Sarah, but for the lure of William Scott's identity. Finding it hard to sit still, John made up for his impatience by applauding vigorously when Ms. Hathaway finally departed the stage.
Thoughts of Sarah haunted John who began to feel the heel for not offering to see her off by taxi. Did the identity of a stranger really eclipse the importance of his date's well-being? Tempted to give her a call, John had half risen from his seat, planning to head to the lobby when the last musician entered the stage.
Immediately John sat down. Oh My God!
William Scott was no stranger! Dressed in tails, polished shoes, wild raven locks tamed appropriately with just enough hair product, the tall lean man gave the audience a gentle smile and courtly bow as he gracefully positioned his Stradivarius.
As each of his predecessors had done, William Scott announced the classical piece he was about to play. "Bach's Sonata No. 1 in G minor for solo violin."
John was riveted. The solitary man who stood playing assorted music in their sitting room had been transformed within the context of the music hall. John had always known Sherlock had talent, but the degree to which his friend's genius was brilliantly showcased in the spotlight was breathtaking. Focusing as Sherlock had trained him, John watched how William Scott executed the familiar piece in Baroque style, establishing from the beginning a firm tempo with clear and pointed bow strokes. Despite the fast strokes, William Scott commanded great control with sound and awareness. His choice of the haunting, melancholy sonata suited the man who played it—in its entirety on stage—with loving attention.
Exhilarated, the doctor knew and felt every note. How could he not? Not only had Sherlock been practicing it every day for months—within earshot—but the clever man more recently used it to highlight aspects during John's music theory lessons.
Yet, when the competitor vigorously ended the Bach Sonata, not one person clapped. Propriety dictated the audience members hold their applause until the competitor played his final piece. With tremendous restraint, John acquiesced, holding in great pride for his friend's showmanship and mastery.
Once again the musician spoke to a hushed audience. "The title of my original work," William Scott announced with elegant formality. "is Loyalty. I dedicate it to those who serve Queen and Country, both the brave men and women in the current theatres of war as well as back home. Our veterans have become anonymous, sometimes forgotten, yet they continue to serve quietly in all areas of society and across all classes: aristocrats and commoners alike. They are among our librarians, technicians, teachers, doctors, grocers, laborers. They are the fathers, sons, and brothers, mothers, daughters, and sisters who have made great sacrifice… you in this audience know who you are. And I thank you."
In perfect form and sound, William Scott played the entire original composition John had only heard as isolated melodies in their sitting room. Even then, the army doctor had felt each was spellbinding, charged with emotional musicality, never realizing they belonged to a more cohesive whole. Closing his eyes, John heard the story of their partnership in fluid sound. His pulse quickened, his mind filled with flowing images. Drastic contrast in phrasing and tempo became vivid memories of their exciting cases. Fast strokes conveyed images of chase and danger, adventures and thrills; slower somber melodies touched upon their original loneliness and frustration, followed by the light bowing indicating satisfaction, success, and gratitude for companionship. Whether these were the actual sentiments intended by his composer friend, it affected John well beyond words. For John, music would always be a language he could not read with any proficiency, yet he knew how it made him feel. Tears filled his eyes, gratitude overwhelmed him.
At last, applause thundered through the hall. The audience rose in unison with a roar of approval. Standing, John shouted "Bravo! Bravo!" until he was hoarse.
Bowing with grace and humility, William Scott left the stage.
