Disclaimer: Not mine. JK Rowling owns them.

Title: A Wynter's Tale

Warnings: Read at your own risk. It's mostly all slash.

Why did I do this again? A good portion of us at the Harem (the Kloset) were a bit sad that there weren't any more drabbles. Wynter, who is awesome, decided to start them up again (which is why this collection is named after her). All of the drabbles (one shots?) that are written by me were written during the course of Wynter's drabble-thon in July of the summer of 2011. Enjoy!


Wyn wants Harry/Sherlock (either from the books or BBC) and 'Cello & Violin'

"You play the violin, John?" Harry asked as he stared at the violin sitting on the couch in the same place that Sherlock had left it last night when he ran off when a clue had sorted itself in his head. "I've always figured you for the flute or the piano, but never a violin."

"Oh, no. That's my flatmate's," John answered quickly and tried to help Harry put down his burden beside a wall that wasn't covered in books or pieces of paper that Sherlock had taped to the walls. "I've never got the hand of the piano, though. Harry was always better at it than I was… my sister Harry not you."

Harry laughed and ruffled his hair as he took off his winter hat. "I figured as much. I didn't think you'd live in the heart of London. I still can't stand to be around people and the only thing that calms me down is music."

John remembered how much Harry had suffered in Afghanistan. The much smaller man wasn't much for shooting at people and more than once John had had to shoot someone down because Harry had tried to talk them out of shooting him, in really bad Arabic even though the Afghan people spoke Persian Dari or Pashto. He had been a genius as a doctor, though, he could seemingly bring back people from the dead with the way that he managed to patch them up and that's how they had gotten to be such great friends.

"Listen, I'll be right back. I just need to get some milk and some other essentials, seeing as Sherlock forgot to get them… again," John said quickly as he closed the fridge door after noticing the lack of milk (or anything else edible) and the rather prominent tray on the top shelf full of ears. "I suggest not touching anything. Knowing Sherlock you'll rig some kind of explosive or chemistry experiment and end up dead."

Harry grinned but nodded his head nonetheless. He sat on the couch and folded his hands on his lap and watched John quickly put on his parka. John gave him one last smile and wave before rushing out of the room and towards the grocers ten minute's walk from Baker Street. He wasn't particularly sure when exactly Sherlock had left the flat or when he'd be back so he'd rather get back before Harry had to deal with something he didn't want to hear from Sherlock and his 'science of deduction' no matter how brilliant John thought it was.

The line at the counter had turned out longer than he thought it was going to be when some idiot had decided to argue over the price of canned tomatoes for a solid fifteen minutes! He managed to get back in front of the flat forty-five minutes after he left it and the whole time he prayed that Harry hadn't gone wandering off and killed himself, or that someone had dragged him off and killed him. Harry was smart when it came to hand to hand combat but he was completely bollocks when someone had a gun pointed at his face.

He was about to rush up the stairs, bags swinging precariously, when he heard something that had made him pause. It was the telltale high pitch of Sherlock's violin being played, and being played well and not in the usual annoyance that resulted in strings being played all at the same time and in distaste. Just as John was about to continue towards the next step the low groaning sound of a cello joined in Sherlock's playing. John had heard the cello being played many times by Harry, as he had visited the man countless times after he had been discharged and had secluded himself in his family mansion with an eight-year-old boy and the boy's grandmother. He had also heard Sherlock play his violin after the high of solving a case had dwindled and when he had become antsy at the lack of a case. Both sounded amazing separately with their own sounds but together they harmonized so perfectly that it made John pause.

When John managed to open the door, after much deliberation of whether he was interrupting something private, even though this was his friend and not Sherlock's, he just stared at the sight. Sherlock was at the edge of his chair; his eyes gave one cursory look at John before going back to staring intently at the way that Harry's fingers moved across the fingerboard. Harry's eyes were closed as he played and matched Sherlock's violin note for note.

He smiled and continued into the flat and towards the kitchen, putting the kettle on and putting the cold things in the fridge, away from the tray of ears. For some reason coming in to see something like this wasn't as weird as he'd thought it was going to be. Frankly it was quite calming and exceedingly normal in such a way that he didn't know that he and Sherlock needed at the time or could ever accomplish.


Next one will be: Ron/Harry/Hermione and Horcrux Hunt.