A/N Conan Doyle owns all of these characters...
Holmes stood and began to pace as he spoke. "I have one last chance of finding information. And it is a slim one at best. I have asked all of my contacts if they would go searching for any indications as to the location of my brother. This is risky for obvious reasons. If anyone finds them to be too inquisitive, dangerous situations can arise. But I told my contacts to be careful, and I can only hope that they will find me something, anything."
It pained me to see Holmes in this condition, even more so, because there was nothing I could do to help at this point. He was a man of action, and he had done all he could. If this were one of his average cases, this would have been the point where he would put the problem aside as if it never existed, and go about life as normal, all the while, waiting for a new development. But he was unable to put this problem out of his mind.
He finally stopped pacing and collapsed back into his chair. He sat there for a few minutes, as though he were deciding what to do with himself, until he reached for his violin case and removing the instrument, began to play an eerily mournful and dispiriting piece.
I sat for a few minutes and listened to the music he was playing, but soon it became too much for even me. I wanted to do something to help him, but I could think of nothing. I finally came to the conclusion that some fresh air might do the both of us some good.
"Holmes, why don't you join me for a walk? The fresh air might do you some good."
He did not say anything. He merely looked up from his violin, and I could tell from his expression that he did not intend to join me. So I found my coat and headed out the door. I had no intended destination, I just needed to clear my head and organize my thoughts.
When I came back from my brief walk, Holmes was still playing an eerie melody. His eyes were closed, but I knew that in his mind he was desperately trying to find a clue that he had possibly overlooked. I seated myself across from him and became lost in thought myself. For hours we sat there, neither one of us speaking or moving, save for Holmes playing his violin.
Finally, it became dark and Mrs. Hudson approached me, quietly asking if we were to eat dinner. I realized that I had not eaten that day, and I guessed that Holmes had not eaten since the disappearance of his brother, so I asked Mrs. Hudson to bring a tray in to us.
Shortly thereafter, she brought the tray in and set in on the table beside me. Holmes did not once acknowledge Mrs. Hudson's presence, and I was sure that he would not acknowledge the food, either. But I tried to get him to eat, regardless.
"Holmes, you really should eat. You won't be of any help to your brother if you die from malnutrition. Please, eat something." He made no effort to respond. So, I placed some biscuits on a plate and arose from my seat to set the plate on the arm of his chair. I continued on to my room, to settle in for the evening, but before I closed my door, I turned to look back at Holmes. I could not see his face, for the back of his chair was facing me, but I heard him stop playing and put the violin down. Then I saw his long arm reach over towards the plate. Satisfied, I returned my attention to my room and shut my door.