Prompt: Holmes has a conversation with Watson using only his violin to 'speak'

By: TemporarilyAbaft

At last, I managed to drag my feet through the front door of 221B and collapsed against the wall. I had thought that I would never get home, never mind get through the last of my rounds!

I felt fairly out of breath, so I set down my Gladstone bag and was about to remove my hat when Mrs Hudson opened the door of her own flat.

"Hello Doctor Watson!" She exclaimed cheerily." How were your rounds?"

I pulled a face. "Torture." I huffed. "None of my patients were in a good mood today and now, I'm not."

"Oh dear," she patted my good shoulder gently. "Well then I'm afraid you may not like the news that I have yet to tell you."

"If it is about Holmes or a patient, then I am going to reconsider Stamford's invitation to the club." I shudder. I wish I had decided to go after all.

"Actually, it's both of those, Doctor."

The very thought of Holmes being left alone with one of my patients was enough for me to begin running for the stairs- but a firm grip had fixated itself on my sleeve.

"Mr Holmes is the patient." She affirmed.

All I wanted to do at this point was die. Or at least allow the floor to open up and swallow me.

…

I dragged myself up the stairs, ready to see what Holmes had done to himself this time.

The detective was sprawled across his armchair, wielding his precious Stradivarius under his chin.

"Hello Holmes." I slowly began to exhale a breath that I hadn't even realised I was holding.

Instead of replying, Holmes played a few notes his violin. They sounded full of hurt and anger.

My hand automatically began to massage my temple. I did not need this. I did not.

"Holmes, why are you not speaking to me?" I ask, in a voice that remained calm, even and almost emotionless, like my friend on a day to day basis. In a rare flash of desperation, I racked my brains, trying to remember whether or not I had offended him.

I could not think of such an occurrence. So I decided to calm down and try a different approach.

"Come on old fellow," I coax, "Whatever is the matter?"

The younger man paused, before playing a calm piece on his violin. Then, just as I was about to enquire on what had happened, he just gave me a deathly stare- before bursting into a dramatic piece. I could not recognise the music, so I concluded that he was improvising.

He finished, and then pointed the bow at me, and gave me a look which suggested 'You know my methods. Apply them.'

I got down on my knees and studied him carefully. I noticed that his left trouser leg had cut itself open. For a moment, I wondered if Holmes had deliberately brought this fate upon his poor trousers, but that was dismissed when I saw his knee.

It was red and sore looking. I looked at his hands next. They were red also. I immediately realised that his knee and hands had come down with carpet burn.

And lastly, I decided to check Holmes tongue. On inspection, I noticed that his tongue was bleeding. He had probably bitten it. It looked nasty, and probably painful as well. Thankfully, that shouldn't take long to heal.

I sighed in relief, and patted Holmes knee. "You're alright old fellow. A bit wounded I can safely say- but you'll recover."

He managed a rather quivery smile at me.

"And you got all this from falling down the stairs?" I asked disbelievingly.

He played a brief note and then nodded slightly.

"Aw, you daft neep." I tell him. Slowly I reached forwards and pulled him into an embrace, rubbing his back soothingly with one hand and stroke his unruly hair with the other.

Once we separate, I decide to question him on a trivial but important matter.

"Holmes, have you eaten anything recently?"

In response, Holmes played me a short but very violent and hostile solo on his prized Stradivarius.

"Alright then I'll drop it."

I stood up and patted his shoulder, then made my way to my armchair to read for a while, when my friend played me a quick burst of polka music.

"Yes Holmes, you are the biggest idiot I ever met. No doubt about that."

I smiled fondly at my beloved friend, who played a couple more notes.

"But I still love you."

The detective gave me a rare smile, and began to play Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata.

Okay. I have heard that polka originated in the mid-19th century, so it should fit here somehow. Maybe. Also, the neep part was intended, as it is a term used by my parents to refer to me and my siblings as such whenever we did something like what Holmes did. I am Scottish, so hence the spelling. And also why Watson uses it. I just thought that would be adorable. I hope you enjoyed! Reviews loved and appreciated as always!