Music of the Night
Claire Watson fussed with her hair, tired of it not cooperating with her pins and falling out everywhere. She sighed, hoping that Holmes wouldn't point out that she was wearing a new gown. Her hands tried to smooth the deep purple silk without shaking slightly, but just thinking about sitting through a Beethoven Symphony with her employer and his brother and her cousin seemed to cause her normal calmness to subside. Finally with a flick of her wrist and a few curses her hair stayed. The lady took a look in the mirror and took a deep breath, hoping that everything would be fine.
Sherlock Holmes looked over at his brother's best suit and tried not to scoff at the red vest that made him look like Father Christmas. Elder brother, however noticed the stare, "I know what you are thinking, Sherlock, but this is my best vest and I don't care if you think it makes me look like a bringer of gifts!" he said sharply, trying to tie his tie and shake a finger at his brother at the same time.
The younger checked his dapper suit that had no color whatsoever and prided himself for looking so put-together. Mycroft finished dressing and looked at his pocket watch.
"What time is Miss Watson supposed to arrive here?" he asked, attempting to not sound anxious.
The detective sighed. "Watson said she would arrive at his house right about now, so it would be best if we set off for the Watsons'," he said, grabbing his top hat and gloves.
Mycroft followed, hoping that his actions would not tip off his younger brother. Their cab ride was quiet, which was a blessing to each of them. The doctor's flat came into view and the two well-dressed bachelors climbed up the stairs where they were greeted by a very dapper Watson and his lovely wife Mary.
"Come in, come in! Claire should be here soon; it seems she wants to be fashionably late, or so Mary tells me," chuckled the doctor, leading his two friends into the parlor.
Mary and Watson sat across from both brothers and could not think of a subject to discuss so Sherlock reluctantly began to talk to Watson.
"My dear doctor, you seem ill at ease - what's troubling you?"
Watson shifted in his seat, trying to hold back a smile. "Well, it's not every day we get to go to a concert such as this and I'm worried that Claire might be overwhelmed at the theatre," he said, trying to elude mentioning Claire's condition.
Both Holmeses tried to answer at the same time with hilarious effects over the doctor and his wife. The detective glanced at his older brother with amusement.
"Why don't you give us your answer first, Mycroft, since you seem to be an expert on paranoia?"
The elder brother cleared his throat before answering. "I believe that Miss Watson has enough courage to go to a large concert, and her progress and strong confidence in the fact that none of her enemies will be there gives me the notion that she will be fine," he said with a nod.
Sherlock nodded in approval.
"Quite so; and besides, Miss Watson showed in the last case that she has control over her past and if somehow a person or persons appear she can deal with it accordingly," he said in a brisk tone.
The doctor nodded. "Let us hope that we can all enjoy the concert without any sense of trepidation."
As soon as Watson had finished his thought there was a knock on the door and his wife Mary rose to see who it was. All three men leaned in unison to hear who it was, and when they heard womanly laughter they all nodded in understanding. Mrs. Mary Watson approached the group with a small smile on her face, and with the sound of rustling silk Claire Watson appeared.
Mycroft's mouth fell open at the sight of Claire Watson in a deep purple silk dress, and was unaware that he was also blushing. Claire smiled sweetly at this reaction.
"Perhaps I should wear this more often, since this is the only thing that will turn a man's face a different color," she said, sitting delicately.
Mycroft shut his mouth with a snap in embarrassment and grumbled to himself about acting foolishly. His brother did not seem as taken aback but then again Sherlock wasn't the type to be turn into mush by seeing a gorgeous woman.
"Claire, you look stunning in that gown - I'm almost jealous," Mrs. Watson said with a giggle, trying to break the silence.
The younger lady smiled at this. "Why, thank you, Mary. I like your dress as well; I've been waiting for an event such as this to wear something more refined," she said with slight humor in her voice.
The silence was profound as always for the men didn't know exactly what to say anymore.
"Well, are you three going to be staring at us all night or are we going to have a pleasant conversation?" Claire asked somewhat bluntly.
Holmes was the first to speak, "I agree with you, Miss Watson, a stimulating conversation is just what we need before we venture out to the concert hall."
Claire nodded, "It so happens, the place we're going to is near the Royal Theatre, where I played all those years ago. So it will be like a trip down memory lane for me," she said with a slight look of remembrance.
Watson decided to avoid talking about how his cousin would handle the large crowd and instead talk about the venue. "The Rose Theatre is one of the best, from what Holmes and I have seen there. And the best part is that we have balcony seats so we can have a better look at the stage." The group nodded in unison.
Mycroft checked his pocket watch secretively.
"It's almost time; we had better be off," he said and let the women go first before leading the men outside to the cab.
Somehow Claire managed to squish her dress inside the narrow doorway, trying not to curse her bustle, and sat comfortably next to Mycroft. The older man didn't quite know what to do inside such cramped quarters, but thankfully the theater was nearby and the party didn't seem vexed on the lack of conversation. The cab glided into the front of the theatre and the cabby even helped the ladies out.
Claire hid a smile as the group ventured towards the front of the theatre, but to her surprise Watson went ahead of her with Mary with a very nervous look on his face.
"John, what's the matter? Is something wrong?" she whispered in his ear.
Her cousin tried to shrug it off but his family member was glaring at him. "I'm just worried that you may become overwhelmed with the number of people here, Claire; you may have reason to fear that someone who wishes you ill is here."
Claire sneered at him. "Paranoia is different from Agoraphobia, John. Alexander hates Beethoven and so does the Professor, so I have no reason to fear that they would be here," she said shaking her head sadly.
Watson was taken aback by his cousin's comments and bit his tongue from telling her that he was only looking after her best interests.
Mycroft joined Claire in ascending the red carpeted stairs.
"Miss Watson, I knew from the moment you accepted my invitation that you would be fine. You cousin probably feels that he has to look out for you since he hasn't seen you break down or show signs of your phobia."
His friend half smiled at him as she kept an eye on the rest of the group behind them. "John is always worried about me or Sherlock - I think it's part of his role in the cases we do. I'm glad someone else worries besides myself," she stated plainly with tears of mirth in her eyes.
Mycroft nodded still not sure what to do in front of such a lady. He helped her sit in a plush red velvet chair before joining her in the chair on her right. Claire scanned the program and smiled.
"You failed to mention that we would also be hearing Beethoven's 9th Symphony, which is also a favorite of mine," she said, pointing at the selection with her gloved hand. Sherlock looked over her shoulder and nodded his approval.
"I think it is wise of the conductor to do both, since they are considered his best works," he stated simply, his eyes softening as they rarely did without the help of his cocaine bottle.
The curtains parted to show the large symphonic orchestra and as the first violinist tuned the group, Claire glanced at the people below, and recognized a familiar face in the crowd and suppressed another smile.
Mycroft, however, wasn't fooled. "Who do you know that is below us?" he asked politely.
Claire pointed towards a slim young man with a red tie and small mustache. "That is my good friend Roger Bloom. I should introduce you to him during the intermission," she said quietly, keeping her eyes on the stage.
The large man nodded, trying to remember where he had seen a red tie in the past. The conductor came onto the stage before he could make the distinction, and the crowd clapped politely as he raised his baton.
As the first chords were struck, Claire closed her eyes and began to lose her self to the enchanting music. Mycroft watched his companion's eyes go from warm to dazzled and he recognized the same reaction from his younger brother. The elder man knew that the pair were both violin players and great admirers of the composer, so their reaction was expected. But what he didn't expect was Claire to glow from the music; it seemed to Mycroft that all her worries and fears fell away to absorb and be enraptured by the music.
As he watched her, Mycroft felt his hand drifting from its previous position on his chair arm towards the right hand of Claire. As it grasped her hand he felt her arm rise as he pressed his lips on the top of her hand. Claire looked at him with her enraptured eyes and smiled sweetly at him before returning her gaze to the performance.
Watson noticed that his friend and his cousin had the same reaction when listening to music; they both let down their guard and became almost human in one fell swoop. He whispered something to his wife, who chuckled in noticing the mirrored reactions but failed to mention Mycroft's hand kiss.
As the symphony drew to the end of the third movement, Claire felt herself floating with the rising swells of the music as it triumphantly grew into a crescendo and as she opened her eyes Claire felt Mycroft's eyes upon her. She turned to him, basking in the sound of Beethoven's triumph. Their eyes connected at once, grey into blue, and it seemed forever - they stared at each other until the last triumphant chord sounded and Claire exhaled deeply as if she had been holding her breath.
The audience's applause was thunderous in the least; Claire could barely hear what her cousin was saying about how good the piece had been.
The curtain fell and Claire turned to the group.
"What a wonderful piece, it feels so nice to be here tonight. A concert always makes me feel better afterward," she said, her eyes still sparkling.
Watson nodded, "I was telling Mary how much you and Holmes acted alike during the performance."
Sherlock and Claire looked at him with judging looks hoping he would elaborate. The good doctor thankfully did. "You both seemed to lose yourselves to the melody, and the fact that Claire is glowing just from absorbing the music is a clear sign of how it affects you both," he said, motioning towards Claire who looked like she was the happiest woman in London at the moment.
"Thank you for the explanation, John. Now I'm going below to find my friend Roger and bring him up here to meet you all," she said standing up stiffly.
"I shall come with you, Miss Watson, if you don't mind," said Sherlock before his brother had time to voice his opinion.
Claire nodded her head in consent. "That would be wonderful, Mr. Holmes," she said, leaving the group with a comforting look before heading down the stairs.
She was not surprised her employer was escorting her to her friend; he wanted to observe and judge him before letting the man come to the box. Among the throng of the crowd, Claire managed to find Roger fairly quickly and at once hugged and gave him the two cheek kiss.
"Roger, how are you? It's been a few weeks since I last saw you," she said, beaming at her dear friend.
Roger clasped his hands together before answering, "I've been wonderful as always, you seem more energetic than I last saw you. But then again after that…" He stopped as Claire put a finger to her lips and motioned towards Sherlock.
"Roger, this is my employer, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Mr. Holmes, this is my good friend Mr. Roger Bloom."
Roger shook the detective's hand strongly. "It's such a pleasure to meet Claire's employer at last. I've read all of your chronicles and I must say it's an honor," he said pleasantly.
Holmes returned the handshake. "Thank you, it is nice to meet one of Miss Watson's friends at last," he replied, trying to be warm.
"So, where's the rest of the party?" Roger asked with a slight cough, looking over shoulders to see better.
Claire pointed upwards. "They are in a private box, and Mr. Holmes was kind enough to help me find you down here," she said linking her arms playfully in his.
Roger returned with a playful grin. "Well then, let's be off to the private box!" he said joyfully.
Sherlock watched the friends walk up, observing the level of friendship and how they met and so forth. Claire approached Watson, Mary, and Mycroft with a smile on her face.
"Everyone, this is my good friend Roger Bloom. Roger this is my cousin Dr. Watson, his wife Mary, and my other friend Mr. Mycroft Holmes," she said, gesturing to the appropriate people.
Everyone shook hands with him and then sat down to get a better look at this friend of Claire's. Watson was more surprised than anything to see that Claire in fact did have a friend in London and was anxious to ask him questions.
"So, when did you meet?" he asked as they all drank complimentary glasses of champagne.
Roger and Claire exchanged amused glances before answering. "I met dear Claire at an art gallery almost four years ago, when she was courting that William fellow. She and I happened to run into each other at a painting by a French impressionist at the same time and quickly became friends." Claire chuckled at the memory, making sure to stay friendly and aloof.
Holmes glanced at the thin man next to him and then turned his attention back to his assistant, "Miss Watson, tell me which painting was it that you both shared a delight in?" he asked, trying to find the truth as usual.
Claire shook her head. "I can't recall the painting's name except that it had sunflowers on it," she said, blinking hurriedly, trying to remember that far back.
"With everything that happened four years ago I'm not surprised you don't remember it," interjected Roger, trying to be supportive of his friend.
Mycroft nodded in agreement. "Quite. And besides, Sherlock, what significance would a painting have?" he asked, giving an annoyed glance at his younger brother.
The thinner of the two shook his head. "I would have thought you would have seen meaning behind my question, brother. It was to see if Miss Watson was telling the truth about where she met Roger Bloom, the accomplished dancer and appreciator of the arts."
Everyone including Roger made a surprised laugh. "Claire did tell me you were smart, Mr. Holmes, but I didn't expect you to find out my profession so soon." The thin man chuckled, looking at Claire's amused face.
Holmes held up a finger to symbolize his thought. "The first thing that made me think you were a dancer is that when you turn corners, you turn as if you're dancing the tango. Second piece of evidence was your manner of appearance - your feet are agile which constitutes great hours of practice and preparation. The last piece that suggested that you were a dancer was the cufflinks on your shirt," he said, pleased with himself as usual whenever he made the right deduction.
Roger nodded before showing everyone his cufflinks, which were gold dancers doing the waltz. Claire had to stop herself from mentioning how she was just a good of a dancer as Roger but she wanted to keep that secret safe until the group attended a ball. The sound of chimes filled the area, informing the audience that the orchestra would be returning soon. Roger rose to leave.
"It was great meeting you all at last; I hope to see you all again soon." He was about to leave when Claire rose as well.
"Let me walk you out, Roger," she said pleasantly before departing the box.
Holmes at once glanced at his brother, "You do not have to worry about competition for Miss Watson's heart, Mycroft - I think her friend is completely uninterested in courting her," he said coldly.
Mycroft glared at his younger brother. "Since when have I shown any interest in courting your assistant?" he asked boldly, unaware that Claire had returned and was now eavesdropping.
Sherlock gave his brother a slightly annoyed look. "Do you think that I would have missed your display earlier?"
Mycroft stayed surprised and tried not to lose his temper. "I have no idea what you're alluding to Sherlock, so stop trying to bait the hook and tell me," he said, giving his brother a dark look.
His brother gave him in turn a full-on glare with his grey eyes. "In the middle of the third movement, you kissed my assistant's hand. Normally I wouldn't have noticed but you're my brother - and to see such a thing coming from you is too much for my conscience to handle," he said sternly, unaware that his assistant was behind him glaring a hole into the back of his head.
"I think one thing had better be made clear, Mycroft. You are friends with my assistant; that I can live with. But do not insult my integrity by giving allusions of romance towards her!" He raised his voice at this point which made his brother turn angry.
"Don't you think I know what I'm doing? I didn't intend to do such a romantic display, as you call it, but somehow it happened. And as far as I'm concerned things could have been worse," he said, catching sight of Claire behind his brother.
Sherlock was too involved with observing his brother that he failed to notice the lady standing behind him.
"I think that both of you need to stop yelling and making this a bigger thing then it already is!" issued a voice from behind the detective.
Holmes reeled around to see a very put-off Claire glaring at him. "How much have you heard?" he asked in an unapologetic manner.
Claire sighed. "Everything, are you disappointed that I heard your outburst? I knew you are slow to change and when Mycroft kissed my hand your rational mind couldn't see any point in it - that is why you are berating him and making everyone uncomfortable," she stated pointedly.
Holmes opened his mouth to argue the point when Watson stepped in. "I quite agree with Claire on this, Holmes; your brother simply reacted to how she was reacting to the music."
Mary nodded with her husband. "It happens to us when we hear certain songs, I become a different, happier, and lighter woman. I saw Claire's reaction to the music; I've never seen a lady look that beautiful while listening to music before."
The group looked at Holmes with a look of amusement at the fact that he had very much overreacted. The detective took it all in before answering their glances.
"True, I did forget how the music of the night could change one's perception. My apologies, brother Mycroft," he simply stated before readjusting his vest.
Mycroft nodded. "All is forgiven Sherlock. I am sorry to cause your mind turmoil."
The group then turned in unison to once again be shaken and shaped by the music of the night.
AN: If anyone can figure out the red tie reference, the reviewer may get a small highlight in an upcoming chapter.