Think of this as a reward, my personal and story followers, for being so patient with me. Thank you for not killing me. yet. I love you all, enjoy!

When he arrived back at the hospital, Dr. Watson returned to his office as stealthily as he could manage. He didn't think anyone had seen him or the beaten up violin case in his arms. Once John closed his office door, he breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

John wondered to his desk. The papers from Sherlock's file were still scattered everywhere. John gathered them up into a pile and shoved them back into the large file. Then he set the violin case down on the now cleared desk.

Dust flew as John blew on the case. The floating particles were visible in the late afternoon sunbeams as they scattered through the air. John coughed and waved his hand through the dust, trying to clear the air. Then, he carefully undid the latches on Sherlock's case and opened it.

The inside was nothing like the outside of the case. The outside was beaten up and fraying on every edge. There were old, half peeled off stickers that Sherlock had stuck there in junior high. It was so dusty that it looked like it hadn't been opened in years. But the inside, however, made John gasp in amazement.

There, within the dusty old case, was the most beautiful violin John had ever laid eyes on. The strings were fresh and, as John found out by testing them with his fingers, tightened perfectly. The bow hairs were new, too, clean and perfectly placed. It was well maintained, the wood shined to a sparkle.

Is that mahogany? John thought and stroked the glossy wood of the violin. Sherlock must love this violin. It's so beautiful.

The longer John stared at this beautiful instrument, the more he longed to hear its beautiful chords. Chords he was certain Sherlock could produce wonderfully. He had to get the violin to Sherlock. Besides, he needed Sherlock's trust, or he'd get nowhere with him.

Molly. John thought suddenly. She had snuck into the confinement chamber to keep him company before. Maybe she could help him. John closed the case and sprung for the door.

"Hi, John. How are you?" Molly smiled at the doctor standing in her doorway.

"Fine, fine." John brushed the question off. "I have a question."

"Yes?"

"Well, actually, it's more of a request."

Molly raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"I need your help, Molly."

"With what?"

John motioned for her to follow and lead her into his office. He closed the door behind them and explained his situation to her.

"So," Molly recollected. "You want me to help you sneak Sherlock's violin into his chamber to help you gain his trust?"

John nodded. "And cure his boredom for a bit."

"Why don't you just get it approved? Then you won't have to sneak around and break the rules, dragging me with you."

"I looked at the guidelines for stuff allowed in the confinement chambers, which is basically nothing. Anything pointed, for example, isn't permitted. That includes the end of the violin bow. But I didn't ask before I checked, so there won't be any suspicion beforehand."

Molly sighed. "What did you want me to do?"

"Well," John scratched his head. "You told me you go visit Sherlock sometimes when you aren't supposed to. I thought you'd know the best time and method of sneaking in there."

Molly eyed John suspiciously. "I guess you're right…"

"So will you help me?" John asked.

"Well…" Molly sighed again. "I suppose so."

"Thank you so much," John smiled. "I owe you one!"

"The guy in the surveillance room would notice if you brought something unauthorized into the confinement hall. Ray isn't exactly the kind of person who would let it fly. He works long days. Second shift, too. He can get pretty cranky." Molly stood in thought for a minute. Then she looked at her wristwatch. "His lunch break is in about an hour. I could go in the surveillance room and tell him I'm covering for his lunch."

"You can do that?"

"No."

"Oh."

"But I have had to cover for him before, when we were short on staff. So he shouldn't be very suspicious if I play it cool."

"Ok, great." John said.

"Ray's lunch hour is quiet hour for the patients, as well. You shouldn't have much trouble getting to solitary unnoticed."

"Thank you so much, Molly."

"It's nothing," Molly smiled softly.

John ran as quietly as he could down the North Wing. Everything was going according to plan. Molly had gotten Ray out of the surveillance room without too much of a fuss. She had estimated that John had about a half hour before he should "high-tail it out of there."

Dr. Watson opened Sherlock's solitary chamber and quickly shut the door. He had made it.

"You paid a visit to my brother, did you?" Sherlock Holmes groaned from behind his bars, knowing the answer full well.

Sherlock's doctor turned to face him. "What?"

"Oh don't bother hiding it, he's the only one who knew where I kept my violin."

"Oh, right." John cleared his throat.

"You're nervous."

"What? No I'm not, why would I be?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You're sweating, your breathing is fast and you are defensive about everything I say." He eyed his violin case that was being held tightly in Dr. Watson's sweaty grip. "You aren't supposed to bring that in here, are you?"

"No," John replied quietly. "I snuck it in."

"Why?" Sherlock asked. "Did Mycroft ask you to do this?"

"No," John answered a little too quickly. Sherlock tilted his head. "Look, Mycroft told me you love to play the violin and that you get very bored. It's no wonder you'd get bored so quickly, with that imagination of yours."

Sherlock jolted towards his doctor and banged his hand against the bars. John jumped back in surprise. "So," Sherlock's words rolled slowly and precisely off his lips. "You think I have an imagination?"

"What-" John fumbled.

"You think," Sherlock continued, his voice angry, yet controlled. "Moriarty is all in my head. That I just imagined it all?"

"I didn't say that, Sherlock," John pleaded. "I simply meant you're very smart."

Sherlock glared at the psychiatrist, hesitant to believe him. "I see…" he uttered quietly.

John unlatched the case he carried and withdrew the shining violin and matching bow. "Listen, we don't have much time. I have Molly covering the surveillance-"

"Molly?" Sherlock interrupted.

"Yes…?"

"Did you threaten her into helping you in your scheme?" Sherlock's eyes flared.

"No-what? No! I asked her if she'd help. She agreed."

"Mm." Sherlock turned his gaze towards the instrument he had long been separated from. John followed his eye line.

"I brought this for you," John ventured. "I was thinking maybe you'd like to play for a bit. Just before I have to duck out of here."

"They'll hear-"

John shook his head. "Solitary confinement is completely sound-proof. Didn't you know that?"

"Of course."

"Then why-" John mentally dismissed Sherlock's contradictory statements. It was better not to argue. He didn't have time for it anyways. John meandered to the cell and slid Sherlock's violin in-between the bars. After a brief moment of reluctance, Sherlock accepted his doctor's thoughtfulness and took his beloved violin.

"Mycroft," Sherlock said scornfully under his breath as he overlooked his instrument.

"I'm sorry?" John asked.

"My brother…I told him not to touch my things," Sherlock said, annoyed.

"Has he been playing it?"

"No, Mycroft couldn't get a squeak out of a violin even if he tried. But how do you think it's stayed so clean? Plus new strings? I've been gone over a year, you know."

John nodded. "Ah," So that's why it looked so good. Mycroft must have cleaned it. A lot. "Hadn't thought of that."

"Of course not," Sherlock mumbled sarcastically. His eyes seemed to be devouring his violin, soaking it in as much as he could. He stroked the tight strings and ran his fingers through the bow hair.

"Is that mahogany for the wood?" John asked.

"Maple," Sherlock corrected as he brought the chinrest to his chin. The moment the bow hit the strings, Sherlock Holmes became lost. Lost in himself, lost in the music, lost in time. His face took on a look more peaceful than John had ever seen on Sherlock. The melodies he drew from those strings seemed so familiar to Sherlock, but John couldn't quite place them.

Maybe he composes his own music? John thought to himself. He decided it'd be better not to interrupt to ask about it, so John sat down in the chair near the bars to listen. John closed his eyes and listened as Sherlock's music seemed to pulsate through the room's empty space, filling it with joy. The violin's notes were so perfectly in tune with one another, each chord playing out in vibrating unison.

Sherlock's playing was so incredibly beautiful that John began to think it was a crime to keep this man's violin from him. Perhaps he could convince his boss to let Sherlock out of solitary for a trial run, to see how he did around other patients. There was a music hour every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Sharing his talent with others might help Sherlock create some sort of connection with them more easily.

He needs a support system, John noted to himself. He needs friends.

Hope you liked the new chapter! Please leave a review and let me know what you think c: