Title: Drastic Measures at 3:00 a.m.
I believe that Sherlock Holmes most annoying, although occasionally soothing, habit is when he plays violin at all hours of the night and day. During a case is one thing when I understand his need to think about something and the music provides the perfect channel for his frustrations.
However, when not on a case I feel violin practice should be held at decent hours, not at three in the bloody morning, most times I can wait out his impromptu concerts and drop back off to sleep for a while. This wasn't one of those times.
Holmes had just started playing again for the fourth night in a row and I was exhausted, my practice had been booming lately and I was keeping very busy. So I came to a decision, drastic measures would be taken.
Quietly moving about my room I prepared an injection of very strong morphine, hopefully it would make him just tired enough that he could drop off to sleep and I would be able to get some much needed rest.
I very carefully moved to my door, one ear cocked for the cessation of the music, as I opened slowly I heard the music rise in volume and tempo. Feeling certain that Holmes was so engrossed in his music that he wouldn't hear the creak of the stairs I started down.
Halfway down the music halted and I thought myself to be discovered, but it was not the case, he had merely paused to emphasize the next bar.
Reaching the slightly ajar sitting room door I peeked in, Holmes stood in his mauve dressing gown with his back towards me; his slender frame rocked in time with the music he played, the bow was a blur as he played with all his might.
I snuck in, readying myself for the strike. My target was his left butt cheek; if I could hit that then all was well… If I missed there would be some awkward explaining to do.
I struck quickly before he could turn, and pushed down on the plunger before he had time to react. Holmes emitted a small yelp and his bow slipped causing the violin to screech horribly.
I stepped back just before he spun around, his expression one of pure shock.
"Watson?"
"Yes Holmes?"
"What did you do?" He started to say slightly, his hands growing slack.
"Just gave you a small dose of morphine old boy, nothing that will harm you of course, but it should take the edge off enough that you can sleep." I carefully took his violin from him and guided him to the sofa where he all but collapsed.
By the time I had put away the violin and turned back to him Holmes was already out cold. I carefully tucked him in with an afghan and headed towards the stairs to my own bed.
I knew there'd be hell to pay in the morning, but one night of decent sleep was worth it.
"Good night old boy," I whispered softly as I glanced back at the already sprawled out detective, "sleep well."
