Hello All! I'd just like to thank everyone who alerted and favourited my story! and a special thanks to SPEEDIE22 for reviewing. Hope you enjoy this one and please review guys! :)
Disclaimer: I only own my ocs, the creation of Holmes and Dr Watson is from the genius mind of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
'This must be that habit of playing violin at all hours Mary mentioned.' Bonnie thought to herself, as she raised her head from her pillow to glance at the gold carriage clock on the mantelpiece across from her. The elegantly carved hands ticked slowly round and told her it had just gone past 3 am. Slumping back down in a lazy manner she listened to the mournful sound of Holmes scraping his bow across the violin in an absent minded gesture, the sound was definitely unlike any tune bonnie had heard in all her 26 years, yet she still found the noise soothing. Even though she tried, she found sleep had completely left her the instant she started to concentrate on the scraping notes. Sighing she swung her legs out of the comfort of the duvet covers, a sharp hiss of surprise leaving her lips as her feet touched the cold wooden floor. Being careful not to bump into any furniture as she made her way through the darkened room, and slipped silently out of her door, leaving it open in her wake.
She twisted the bronze knob on the living room door, and noiselessly pushed the heavy panel open and poking her head around it, her gaze sweeping over the candlelit chamber, and settling on the dark haired detective slumped in an old velvet armchair who was looking towards a battered old book open on his knee, while his hands idly played with the violin, sawing the bow back and forth over the strings. A small smile found its way onto her lips as she observed the scene before her as she moved into the dimly lit room. She softly closed the door behind her, but the barely audible click made Holmes look up at her through his dishevelled curls, his big brown eyes burning into her own. "Did I wake you Miss Watson?" he murmured his voice staying low, adopting a smooth, velvety tone that made Bonnie's toes curl, and butterflies swirl about in her tummy. "Not really, Mr Holmes, don't worry. What are you playing?" She asked as she settled in the chair next to the detective, tucking her feet up underneath her and resting her head on her hand. "Nothing in particular, it purely helps me to mull things over in my head. But if you'd like I can play one of your brother's favourites, I often do so. It is the only way he puts up with my idle playing." Bonnie smiled and nodded, watching as Sherlock raised the violin to his shoulder, and start to play a lilting orchestral piece.
Bonnie clapped as the detective stopped playing and laid his violin on the table beside his chair, and resting his elbows on his knees, and steepling his fingers, by his face. "Did you find anything interesting on your case?" she asked, she had always been interested in things of that nature, always doing mind puzzles or reading detective novels. "I'd like to help you as much as I can Mr Holmes, I don't intend to just be here and get in your way." Holmes felt a smile inch its way onto his lips. "I assure you Miss Watson, if I can find a way for you to help with my investigation; you will be the first to know about it." He watched her pretty face as she daintily yawned and snuggled down in the red velvet cushioning of the armchair. "You look tired Miss Watson, you should be sleeping, and I'm assuming you have a busy day tomorrow, Watson tells me you have an appointment with your friend Maria." Bonnie nodded and let her eyes flick to the giant clock on the mantelpiece, where the hands had ticked round to half three. "I've not seen her since she left to get married in April, That's the reason I was so restless in the country, 8 months with only the company of my aunt and uncle, I needed some new company, or I swear I'd go mad." She chuckled stifling back a yawn and running a dainty hand over her face. The detective too let out a short dry laugh, and stood from his chair, striding soundlessly over to the sideboard where he placed two crystal tumblers and grabbed a decanter of amber liquid, casually asking over his shoulder "Would you care for a night cap Miss Watson?" Bonnie thought for a moment, she hadn't had Brandy since Inigo died and she was found slumped against a tree in the garden of their dockside house, a little worse for ware, but she pursed her lips in determination thinking the alcohol would do her good, helping her to sleep. "I would normally have a particular aversion to Brandy Mr. Holmes, from past experiences, but as sleep seems far away perhaps it would do me some good." Holmes' shoulders shook again in a silent laugh as he poured a measure of the amber liquid into each of the tumblers. "An aversion to brandy you says? Well, it's a good thing this is Whisky, I don't tend to drink brandy either my dear." He said adding water to the glass before making his way back over to the chairs, handing her the tumbler.
As Bonnie took the glass from Holmes' hand the genius detective's fingers brushed accidentally against hers, sending little electric shocks through the slim appendages, and she looked up into his never ending deep brown eyes, her knees wobbling and butterflies erupting in the pit of her stomach. "Thank you Mr Holmes." She whispered, her voice barely coming out, as she lifted the glass to her lips. He nodded and returned to his seat, "I have not seen my family in many, many years, but I have no need for them. I have my studies and cases to tie me over. I can never let things register on an emotional level. I immerse myself with work, my mind rebels in stagnation. But sometimes the work just isn't quite able to cut it." Bonnie nodded, that time completely unable to hide the yawn and wave of tiredness that swept over her small body.
Bonnie smiled as she stood looking out of her window watching the morning hustle and bustle of London, there was a soft knock at her door distracting her from the busy landscape below, "Come in." She called, making her way back over to her dressing table, pulling her hair into a delicate French twist and securing it with some bone hair grips, leaving a few loose curls to dangle onto her neck and forehead. Mrs Hudson pushed open the heavy door and poked her head around the frame, a soft smile old her kind face. "Breakfast is ready Miss Bonnie, I thought, perhaps, you'd like to take it downstairs with the doctor?" Bonnie nodded and hopped to her feet, following the land lady down the stairs and into the parlour where the table was laid with various breakfast things from tea and toast to plates of breakfast meats. Her brother was also sat in an armchair, his top hat only visible over the top of the newspaper he was reading. "Good morning John." She said sitting at the table and pouring herself a cup of tea and picking up a triangle of toast, nibbling quietly on the buttered surface. "Good Morning Bonnie. Did you sleep well?" Bonnie smiled to herself remembering her late night chat with Holmes in the living room. "Yes, I did thank you John. Did you?" Watson closed the paper and sipped at his tea, "I slept well enough thank you dear, when you are seeing Maria?" Bonnie swallowed her own mouthful of tea before answering, "She is coming by at around 11, I believe her husband will escort her on his way to work, we will be going for morning tea and scones at the Royale." Watson nodded and stood brushing himself down and folding the paper beneath his arm. "Very well my dear. I shall be in my office should you need me, I have a long list of patients to attend today." Bonnie stood from the table and grabbed her book sat herself comfortably in the seat her brother had just vacated.
The shrill ringing of the doorbell made Bonnie look up from the pages of her book. Her dark eyes flicked up to the face of the old grandfather clock, her eyes taking note of the time, she could vaguely hear Mrs Hudson as she spoke to the person at the front door, and the click of her high heels as she entered the living room an envelope in her hand which she promptly handed to Bonnie.
The younger woman tore open the envelope and let her dark eyes roll over the red inked words, any colour draining from her face as she let a small scream leave her lips and her small shaking hands drop the letter, the paper fluttering to the floor.