The Silent Game
The Caring Silence
Joe lay in his borrowed bed that night, mind still relatively blank from all that had happened, trying to process the events of the day. He simply couldn't do it though and it was only keeping him awake.
Rolling over onto his side, he changed his thoughts from the incomprehensible to something he could actually understand; his little sister.
He could believe that she had started smoking, it was one of the few things he could believe about the day. He also understood her moving in with the kind doctor and the other, weirder man; it was her sort of crowd. But she had been worried about him, as always.
They had spent the past few hours catching up, him telling her about his multiple jobs and girlfriends and her telling him about the row with their parents a little more and her new life.
He smile slightly. She really did seem happy in London.
With the smile still on his face he fell into a world of nightmares. Images of bombs, crowds, people just walking past, unaware for the life threatening danger they were in. He heard a voice on the phone, wanting desperately to call out for help, from someone, anyone.
He woke not long after he went to sleep, breathing heavily, trying to push the images away but they only seemed to leak from his eyes in the form of salty droplets.
Getting up, he went to the little bathroom, leaning over the sink and looking into the mirror above it. He was sickly pale, with dark marks under his eyes. He sighed at the sight.
After washing his face with a little warm water, he opened the cupboard, frowning slightly at the pen cobweb in the corner. Putting it out of his sleep deprived head, he looked for a bottle of sleeping pills. Taking two, he went back to the other room.
On his way though, he though he heard the quietist possible sounds from upstairs. It sounded like someone plucking some form of stringed instrument. But laying in the warm bed again, Joe found he was asleep in a dreamless state before he could determine anything else of the unusual sound.
Sherlock sat in his arm chair, thinking position in full swing. John had gone to bed a few hours ago, Joe turning in an hour or so before that and Rose had just finished her hot chocolate, deciding to curl up on the sofa under a heavy blanket, which she had pulled up so that it covered most of her face, MP3 loud enough that Sherlock could heard the harsh guitars and drums that accompanied the screaming lyrics.
He couldn't think what could happen next with the bomber. It seemed that there would be five tests, if he was right about the pips getting fewer every time they got a new one. But then what?
He needed to play his violin, but he didn't really want to disturb Rose. Usually he wouldn't care, but he had noticed that the blanket was muttering quietly as his friend lay under it. It had started half an hour after she had settled down for the night. He could just about make out the quiet words that seemed to fit with the harsh sounds of her MP3, her voice blending harmoniously with the harsh drums and screaming guitars.
"God bless us everyone,We're a broken people living under loaded it can't be outfought,It can't be outdone,It can't be outmatched,It can't be outrun."
Sherlock had abandoned his musings for once, just listening to his friends soft singing, the words varying slightly every few verses, but staying the same throughout as the song repeated over and over again. He found that while the words were slightly unusual, he enjoyed the sound of her voice, wishing she would sing more often.
"And when I close my eyes tonight,To symphonies of blinding bless us everyone,We're a broken people living under loaded memories in cold decay,Transmissions echoing from the world of you and I,Where oceans bleed into the sky.
God save us everyone,Will we burn inside the fires of a thousand the sins of our hands,The sins of our tongues,The sins of our fathers,The sins of our young."
But her breathing had evened out after her over-two-hours-worth of muttering and Sherlock had determined that she had fallen asleep. He didn't want to wake her, knowing she would probably just shout at him or something of the sort.
As the time went by however, he found his fingers itching to play his beloved instrument and decided he could just play quietly.
With that in mind, he picked up his violin, resting it against his torso and started to pluck a few strings quietly, finding the soothing notes did help him think - a little bit.
Rose pulled the blanket up, nearly over her head, hiding most of her face as she faced the back of the sofa. She put on her music, an upbeat yet dark and softer Linkin Park song with a soothingly strong rhythm of a bass guitar pounding from the head phones that were buried deep in her ears, thrumming through her body, relaxing all her muscles, letting her slump right into the comfort of the large piece of furniture.
She felt the tears start not long after, simply trailing their way down her face, running into the fabric of the sofa as she unknowingly let the lyrics slip from her lips. She worked to keep her mind blank put the emotional baggage from the day just had her thinking of what could have happened.
She felt a fresh wave of tears leak from her eyes as she blinked, remembering the conversation she had had with Zach over the phone earlier that evening.
Rose sighed, picking up her phone, finding Zach's number and calling it, putting the devise next to her ear. Sherlock had gone to his room for a bit and Joe had gone with John to pick up some food shopping - Joe wanting to get out and about for a bit, John wanting to get to know the man a little more. Rose smiled slightly at the thought, they seem to get along well.
"What do you want, Rose?" Came the rude answer on the other end of the line as Zach answered the call. She was not in the mood for his ways though, having had a really bad day. His answer only re-ignited the anger she felt, this time directed at him.
Sarcastic as always, a hard edge to her voice, she replied, "Oh, just to see how you are, see if you're alright, 'cause Joe certainly isn't. Thought you might want to know." She knew he cared more for Joe than her. It had hurt at one point, but now it was just another thing that she knew about her sibling.
"What? What are talking about?" He answered, sounding irritated.
"Joe was kidnapped today and had a bomb strapped to him while he stood in a street for over seven hours. He's fine now. He's safe and staying at mine." She informed him, making sure to put another pinch of icy stubbornness on the last little fact. Baker Street was the safest place she knew for now.
The other line was quiet for a moment as Zach thought about what he had heard. "That can't be…" He said in disbelief, sounding as though he was struggling to get the words out.
She had no patience for his denial though. "Well, it's true… We were the ones who worked the case." She told him quietly. She shook herself, getting back on topic before he could interrupt. "I was just calling to tell you what's happening and to warn you."
"Warn me?" He asked suspiciously.
"We don't know for sure yet, but the perp might be making this a little personal. I don't want to find you in the same situation Joe was in." She said, voice a little softer at the end.
Zach took a second to think it through. "So all this is because of you?"
Sherlock walked into the living room then to find Rose sitting up on the sofa, leaning forward and on the phone. But the look on her face made him frown; it was the most angry he had seen her yet, eyes flashing dangerously. He heard her speak lowly, the anger seeping into her tone as she tried to control herself. It was almost frightening to watch, let alone hear. "Yes, Zachery. I am the one going around strapping bombs to people, threatening my own brother with his death. Why didn't we all see it before? Of course it's my fault!" She had started out sarcastic, getting louder as she went, not noticing Sherlock in the door way watching her.
Rose chuckled is shock after hearing his shouted reply of, "If he's making it personal, then we're all in danger because of you!"
"Once again thinking of your own skin, why am I surprised?" She said, voice deflated again but anger still bubbling under the surface. "I just called to warn you to be careful. I don't particularly want you to get kidnapped. You may be a bastard, but your still my brother."
"How touching." He said sarcastically before bringing up the memory of that morning. "By the way, does your stalker have an umbrella and a weird way of getting in touch?"
Shit, she thought. "Just ignore him, Zach. He is too high up the food chain to mess with." Though it didn't stop her.
She heard him sigh. "Joe can come and stay at mine for now."
Sherlock was getting bored now and decided to make himself a cup of coffee, since it was obvious that Rose wouldn't do it anytime soon.
She wasn't up for a debate on the topic and tried to convince him. "No, he can stay at mine. It's all already sorted and there are more people here to keep an eye on things. Even got a doctor."
"Rose…" Zach said firmly, trying to move the stubborn woman. She wasn't having it though.
"It's done Zach. End of story."
"I think you forget who's the older out of us sometimes, little sister." He said, the nickname sounding more like an insult from him.
"And I think you forget who's actually the more mature out of us. Get over yourself Zach, it's done." She was about to hang up when she heard a reply that made her freeze.
"It's not done if you're gonna get him blown up!"
She had given him eight parting words before she hung up before he could even think of a reply. "You just don't think sometimes, do you, Zach?"
She had found Sherlock in the kitchen making is own coffee for once after the little call. Neither had mentioned it and she was once again grateful to the secrets that the man kept.
She didn't know how long she lay there, tears falling from her eyes as she thought about her family and the new dangers her life had brought with it. Eventually the tears stopped and she just focused on breathing steadily. Finding her music was more annoying than helpful, she turned it off, taking out her headphones and just listening to the silence.
She couldn't sleep.
After a while she heard a single, quiet note ring out in the silence; Sherlock was playing his violin. After a few more notes, she rolled over - after wiping her face - and saw Sherlock in his chair, facing away from her, plucking a few strings on his violin.
Sherlock jumped as he heard a quiet voice from behind him. "You can play properly if you want." She knew he usually played properly in the nights; he said it helped him think. She could only conclude that he wasn't doing so right now because he didn't want to disturb her.
He spun around to face her - having played a strange sound as he jumped - and saw he lying on the sofa, head resting on one of her hands, the other draped over her middle as she watched him, the blanket pulled back enough to show a large, baggy band t-shirt. He saw the freshly made red rims of her eyes and realised she had been crying. "I thought you were sleeping."
She smiled with a hint of sadness. "Can't sleep right now."
"You should, you know. Tomorrow's going to be another busy one." He told her.
Her smile grew a fraction; she knew he cared about them really, John more so, but still. "I know."
They sat in silence for a while, Sherlock playing the odd note here and there, Rose just watching him. She got an idea then, wondering if she should ask. What the hell… she thought, making a decision.
"Play something?"
Sherlock looked at her frowning. She had never asked him to play anything before. Then he realised she had never asked him to stop playing. Ever. Even John had told him to shut up multiple times, usually in the night when he needed to sleep. She hadn't said anything though. "Anything in particular?" He asked, curious to see what she would request.
She raised an eyebrow. "Know any Beethoven?"
He smirked slightly, raising the violin to set it under his chin. Pulling the bow across the strings, he saw Rose smile in recognition.
"Moonlight Sonata." She said, adding a whispered, "Beautiful…" to the end as she closed her eyes, humming along.
Just as he drew the song to a close, he noticed she had stopped humming, having fallen into a peaceful sleep by then. Pulling down his violin again, he sighed, wondering why she claimed she couldn't sleep on moment, and the next she was doing just that - while he played his violin, no less.
Shaking his head, he stood from his chair and crept over to the sofa, pulling the blanket up a little more, like she had had it earlier. Standing straight again, a thought occurred to him, making him frown as he made his way to his room for a few hours sleep. Curse her and her puzzling ways!
He was starting to really care about her.