Author's Note: I'm a band nerd, if you knew that, you have seen this chapter coming. Well, Sherlock plays violin; his daughter should pick up an instrument too. (By the way, this chapter is dedicated to my friend Kairi. French Horns, whoa! Lisa, don't be jealous your chapter is coming soon!)
Sherlock did not want to pressure his daughter into taking up an instrument, but when she turned nine he decided to suggest that she try music out. One afternoon, he walked her into a crammed little music store, where instruments of all kinds filled the room. The wall on the left was completely lined with woodwinds, while the one on the right was lined with brass instruments. In the middle of the store, percussion instruments were muddle about in no particular order. Above the counter, string instruments hung on the wall. Sherlock drifted towards this group of strings, hoping his daughter would follow in his footsteps and pick up violin. Of course, Charlotte took little interest in the dull wooden things suspended in the center of the store. She darted towards the brass instruments; her eyes fixed on something silver and shining. Her father, noticing her change of focus, heaved a sigh and followed her.
Charlotte gazed at the shiny instrument, picturing herself playing it, but unsure of exactly what it was. Sherlock asked, "You like that one. Don't you?" He pointed to the instrument she desired. It was made of shiny brass, and the pipes of it were intricate and twisted, making it seem like the whole thing unraveled could reach across an ocean.
Charlotte smiled. She requested, "Oh yes, father! But what is it and what does it sound like?"
A little white-haired man waddled across the store in the direction of the father and daughter, muttering something to himself all the while. He reached them and exclaimed, "Aw, yes the French horn! My son played French horn for many years. He's very successful in music now! Well, much more successful than me at the very least… although I'm just a retired teacher." It was clear from the way he spoke that he was American, and he also easily drifted off topic.
Charlotte looked up, "The French horn? I've heard of that before! But what exactly does it sound like? Is it pretty?"
The man removed a phone from his pocket and played a song featuring the French horn. The little girl giggled and Sherlock smiled, because it was a beautiful tune. The man paused the music and continued, "It's the hardest instrument there is! If you're up for the challenge, I teach here once a week. Sort of a job to keep me busy during my retirement. I can even loan you a horn, just until you're positive you want to keep playing."
Sherlock asked, "Would you like that Charlotte?"
Charlotte boasted, "Yes! I'm up for the challenge! I'm the daughter of Sherlock Holmes and I can do anything if I put my mind to it!"
Sherlock beamed brightly.
The day after her first lesson, Charlotte was practicing in her room. She attempted to play a scale, blowing into the horn and puffing her cheeks even though she knew she wasn't supposed to. She finally made a small noise, which sounded more like a hiccupping dinosaur than the sweet sound of a French horn.
Sherlock and John were working on a case in the kitchen. Papers cluttered the table, and Sherlock was clutching his head with his hands. He mumbled, "John! I can't focus with this awful noise!"
John smirked and said, "Sherlock, she's just learning give her some time!"
A deep sound like a dying seal rang from the girl's room, followed by some high-pitched resemblance of an elephant's squeal.
Sherlock snarled, "I cannot possibly solve crimes with this racket!" Gladstone, who had been sleeping on the kitchen floor, rolled over and moaned as the uproar awoke him.
John replied, "You're the one who signed the girl up for horn lessons."
Sherlock grumbled, "I didn't know she'd sound this awful!"
John muttered, "Calm down Sherlock, she's only had one lesson! I'm sure you sounded this awful when you first took up violin! I learned clarinet in school, and I remember how terrible I played at first." The fat bulldog barked loudly, and toddled off to the girl's room. He was desperately seeking the source of the noise.
Sherlock lean back in his chair and covered his ears. He whispered, "I don't know how much of this I can take."
John walked around the table and leaned down to give Sherlock a kiss on the cheek, calming him down a bit. The doctor scolded, "It's okay, just give her some time." Then he leaned in closer to the detective's ear, "Not to change the subject but… I talked to Molly and she can watch Charlotte tonight. We're still going to get dinner right? And afterwards I was thinking maybe…"
A loud squeal from their daughter's new instrument interrupted him. John barked, "You're right, we have to do something about that thing!"
Sherlock smirked. Of course he was right.
A week later a package appeared in the mail. Sherlock picked it up, confused. John took it from him; cut it open, and revealed its contents. He held up the small electronic device. It was a French horn mute with head phones attached. He said, "So you don't have to listen to her playing."
Sherlock laughed, and then said, "My John, always so smart!"