Lessons in Friendship 9 - Rhythms of the mind
Disclaimer: Sherlock, John and all other mentioned characters belong to BBC, Mr. Moffat, Mr. Gatiss or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I just borrowed them for fun. I wrote this for my personal delight and improving my English, no copyright infringement intended. No money changed hands and no profit is being made.
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To all of you who are currently following my story 'Define Vulnerability': be assure I have not abandoned it. I have been working on that two-part story for one and a half years now, and it is rather difficult for me to write. So while writing it and the scenes around Sherlock's violin and his relationship to her, the topic 'music' resurfaced several times in my mind, I wrote them into the story at first, but later removed them again (before publishing of course) and put them in a whole new 'Lessons in Friendship'-story. So this is - as a draft - with me for quite some time. Now I need a bit of a distraction and I can't work on Define vulnerability right now. I had planned to start this story as soon as 'Define vulnerability' was finished, but I need to write something now, so I am doing this earlier than I planned.
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The parts of this story are from several different moments of Sherlock's and John's friendship, but all before 'The Fall'. They are all about John exploring Sherlock's relation to music.
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Chapter 1 - Before Irene and Baskerville
"Sherlock?" John yelled, putting his laptop case down. He had been away for the weekend and what greeted him when he returned was new.
The flat was filled with loud instrumental music, very loud music in fact. The melody seemed vaguely familiar. The volume was not at all neighbour-friendly for a Sunday evening, it was almost 21.45.
John listened for a moment.
At first he had thought it must be classic, it was definitely coming from Sherlock's room. It was also definitely music made by a large orchestra, but something sounded unusual about it, it was kind of restless, but he couldn't put a finger on why.
Sherlock must be in his room and not being able to hear him due to the sheer volume.
The doctor headed down the hall and knocked at the other man's door, when no answer came he knocked again, loudly this time, but again nothing happened.
Playing music this loud was usually not Sherlock's thing, especially since the man had quite a fine hearing and was sensible to loud noise, therefore this was kind of odd.
John carefully opened the door, a bit alarmed about not getting a response.
His breathing stopped when he saw the consulting detective lying on the ground, kind of spread-eagled, his arms outstretched and his head bend backwards a bit. His legs were pointed towards his sound system and his feet were resting close to each other. The body was not really relaxed but it wasn't limp either.
"Sherlock? What are you doing?"
Sherlock didn't react and after a few more moments of deafening, rhythmic music John rounded the supine figure and knelt down in a safe distance.
He had briefly considered just switching the noise off, but if Sherlock was doing this deliberately he would not react well to such a brutal interruption. So he hunched down directly in the line of sight of this flatmate, should he sit up, and tipped an outstretched arm.
Sherlock jerked upwards, eyes wide in surprise and John raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. Sherlock's eyes opened for a moment, just to make sure it was John who had entered the room, then closed again, though he didn't lay down again.
"Hey! What are you doing?" the former soldier yelled, trying to make the situation less awkward.
"Listening to music, obviously." Sherlock uttered in a distracted voice, barely audible to John.
A few moments later the piece faded out and a new one started, making the floor vibrate from the bass sounds of the intro.
Sherlock had a really expensive sound system in his room, John knew that, but this was the first time he actually heard it.
For a moment John was afraid he'd be ignored and that they'd soon have an argument about proper behaviour when it comes to neighbours, but then Sherlock took a deep breath and started to fumble for the remote, which was next to him on the wooden floor.
Sherlock was sure John wouldn't understand this all and decided he needed to stop the session and hope John would just let it alone, interpret it as another one of his oddities, he hurried to stand up, and fought the dizziness that followed sudden movement after a longer period of not moving.
He dialled down the volume, slowly, to a moderate level, and headed for the kitchen, he felt John's curious gaze follow him and decided to make some tea and start an evasion manoeuvre.
"How was the trip?"
The strategy was spoiled when he swayed, which alarmed the doctor even more than Sherlock lying on the ground. A moment later a steady hand held Sherlock's upper arm and John asked, "Have you eaten?"
"Yes."
"Are you dizzy?"
"Happens when the music is loud, sometimes. Or when I dial it down to fast."
"Really? Is that why you were on the ground?"
"No."
"Why then?"
Sherlock was absolutely sure the doctor would not let this go without an explanation, so he could as well give a short one, get over with it fast. John had - up to now - been quite patient with the many things he did different, had in fact often listened or just watched, neither tried to break him loose of his behaviours or judged him, as long as it didn't harm anyone or his property, at least.
"To feel the vibrations more intensely," he explained. John deserved explanations, and sometimes Sherlock even liked that he listened to them, but not now.
John raised his eyebrows, "What was this music?"
"Hans Zimmer," Sherlock mumbled.
"Never heard of him," John answered.
"Even with your rudimentary musical background you should, he makes movie soundtracks, some good ones, I might add."
"Oh, that's why it sounded familiar…" John guessed, "I thought you didn't like movies?"
"What has the music to do with liking movies?… Liking the music and the film it was made for does not relate, the question is stupid."
"Right."
"I didn't like the movies, but the soundtracks of the stupid movies you forced me to watch, were interesting sometimes."
"Really? So you liked the soundtracks."
"I just said they were interesting, not that I liked them. Really, John, you need to learn to listen, don't fill in the gaps with your guesses. It's the same with observing and seeing."
The silence was still kind of horrible on Sherlock's mind, he should have taken his time to get out of the music, now he felt nauseous because of the sudden change. He poured the water over the tea into the pot to distract himself, then inhaled the smell of freshly boiled water over the dry leaves deeply.
"Why were you doing it like this?"
"Doing what?"
"Listening to music like that?" John sensed this was not random, "Case?"
"No," Sherlock was reluctant to share this bit, obviously.
After a moment of hesitation he added, "Because it feels good… How was your trip?" He started to rummage in the fridge.
The fact that Sherlock was asking about his journey made John even more aware that this was something he wanted to investigate further. Was Sherlock Holmes in fact embarrassed? That would be a first. It looked quite a bit like it. Caught in some act might be more accurate, though.
"Good," John said, "So was this what would fit your description of 'fun'?"
Sherlock looked a bit puzzled about the question, which made the other man smile at him encouragingly.
"You enjoyed listening to music, right… so enjoying, equals fun."
"If you're asking if I liked the expericence,… I did," Sherlock kind of stammered.
"You turned it up so much the ground started to vibrate," John stated.
"Yes."
"Because you liked the vibrations or what?" John meant it as a joke, but Sherlock replied,
"To make it a whole-body-experience… heightens the… pleasure."
"Oh… So you did do it for pleasure?"
"No, I did it because I needed it."
"You do it like this, often, then?"
Sherlock didn't answer. He did not want to have this conversation, this was something private and he felt getting lost in not being able to be understood. However John phrased his questions, they felt wrong.
"Sherlock, what does it feel like when you do it like that?" John went into it.
"Sometimes…" Sherlock started, "…I don't know… It feels… pure."
"Pure?"
"Some kind of music is like mental water, clear and crystalline, liquid… it washes over me."
John met Sherlock's eyes, who looked a bit like expecting to be told he's nuts any moment.
"So, you're on the ground… so it can - for lack of a better word - … flow better?"
"I don't know… It just feels like I need to lie flat to feel it more intensely. Yes, so it can flow more freely, I guess… and to make not only my mind feel the ecstasy but extend the feeling to my whole body."
"Your mind feel ecstasy?… I thought that was body-thing?"
"I'm not an expert when it comes to sense my body. My perception is different."
"I know, that's why I'm so curious here, wanted to hear your description."
"Oh," Sherlock just breathed, "Why?"
"Because I want to know how you sense things. It's different, it's interesting. You have… kind of heightened senses."
"I have normal senses, I am just able to use them, in contrast to all the stupid people who don't."
"No, Sherlock! Your perception is way more intense than normal people's. I'm a doctor, I know such things."
"Fine."
"So does it works with any music, or does it have to be instrumental, or Zimmer, or what?"
"No."
"No, what?"
"Needs a large amount of semitones and a melody that… flows."
"So, it could even work with, I don't know, pop songs?"
"Maybe, but most pop songs have the disadvantage of being simple and superficial, lack the interesting patterns most classic music has. I prefer music that has a certain… complexity. But overall, yes. Even works with some songs from the techno genre, as much embarrassing as this is."
"Oh…" John grinned, probably imagining Sherlock listening to techno.
"Does it have to be so loud?"
"Medium to loud, yes."
"And was that 'loud' a moment before?"
"Yes, very."
"Why?"
"So it cleanses."
When John frowns Sherlock adds, "It doesn't if it's not loud enough."
"So, are Zimmer's works what one might call your 'favourite music' then?"
"No. I just said that a few moments before. I don't do favourite music."
"I don't understand, I thought you like it."
"Sometimes, depends."
"On what exactly?"
"Multiple reasons, quite complex."
John rolled his eyes. It was obvious Sherlock was not really eager to talk about this.
"You have good headphones, why don't you use them?"
"I… I need the music to… fill the room. To surround me, wash over me, with the headphones the sound feels like it is produced directly in my head… but I need the sounds to move through the room, be aware of the single instruments' movements around me, it's like a line on a heartbeat monitor… that moves up and down and forth… but in 3D, through the room, taking my mind with the movement. Experience the colours of the tones. They all move through and over me, and…"
"Yes?" John encouraged him.
"…touch me," Sherlock lowered his gaze, seemed to be embarrassed once more, and took out the tea leaves from the pot.
"Wow," John just said, "Is that why you play the violin?" He had never heard someone describe music like this, and right now he felt kind of blind to have never experienced it like this. He wanted to hear more.
"No."
John was even more surprised that his flatmate disagreed, "No?"
"No," and Sherlock vanished into the living room with his cup of tea, booting his computer.
Sherlock's affection for music, maybe even passion, when it came to the violin, was one more mystery of the person Sherlock was. John had heard him play before on several occasions - hard not to when living with the consulting detective - and suspected he expressed emotional things with music he'd not even know the words for, but that was only an assumption. It seemed a way of communication, though, it unfortunately was a one way street, because John's lack of understanding, and now he decided he wanted to change that.
But at this moment Sherlock seemed to have shut a virtual door, all further questions about the topic were ignored.
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A/N:
Constructive criticism welcome.
Please review.