The Band Was Jumping

Sherlock screwed his face up unattractively as he heard music blaring from the flat. It was a strange song, full of heavy drum beats and guitar riffs. John was most defiantly not listening to that...

"Karen" he muttered. He thundered up the stairs, jumping two at a time. There inside the kitchen was Karen, somehow explicably singing along to it. She was jiggling around, singing on the top of her lungs, unaware of Sherlock standing behind her.

"So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye ,So you think you can love me and leave me to die ,Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby , Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here" she sang at the top of her lungs. Sherlock stood bemused as his eyes followed her around the kitchen.

It wasn't that she had a totally offensive singing voice, she defiantly kept within the tone and tune of the noise that was currently playing. But the miraculous thing somehow incredibly she was dancing to the noise. And not just jiggling as he had thought before, but it seemed that she was actually dancing, fancy footwork and all.

"What on earth?" he pondered out loud causing Karen to turn and look at him.

"Sherlock" she beamed, a huge smile lighting up her face. She casually leant over and thankfully turned the music down slightly. Sherlock frowned at her.

"What on earth... was that?" he asked looking utterly confused. Karen looked at the radio and back to Sherlock.

"It was Queen" she said simply, her smile melting into confusion as Sherlock continued to look at her blankly. She took a step closer, her eyes surveying his.

"Sherlock... you do know who Queen are, don't you?" she whispered. Sherlock's brain whirred into action, trying to recall something of such importance, which would explain her aghast expression at him being oblivious to its meaning. Other than the Queen herself which would not make sense, nothing presented itself so she had to make do with a shrug.

Karen gasped dramatically, hand flying to her mouth in horror.

"Oh my! And all the things you know, not to know..." she whispered. She paused pondering her options for a moment.

Suddenly as if a light bulb had been lit, her eyes flashed with sudden inspiration. Without warning she pulled an arguing Sherlock from the flat.

"Karen... care to remind me again why you've dragged me here?" Sherlock said coolly as she pulled him into an old music shop. Sherlock casually surveyed the ancient piano's gathering dust in the corner, guitars rigged to unplugged amplifiers that hadn't been touched in years. Karen pulled him past the artefacts that he found interesting into a pokey back part of the shop, surrounded by machines converted to have two pairs of private headphones in them to give the listener some privacy.

Karen walked away leaving Sherlock alone with the machine, one of which he was sure had been the centre-piece of Mycroft's bedroom, also fitted with headphones. Sherlock examined the machine gently running his finger over the curved shell unattached from the machine but remaining balanced on it ...for ascetic reasons he assumed.

Karen returned with a huge grin on her face, clutching what appeared to be a stack of ancient files. She held the first up to him. Sherlock looked at it expressionless. It had the black and white image of a young man, legs spread at the knees provocatively, microphone in hand, clad in prison gear and standing in from of bars.

Sherlock looked back at Karen and shrugged. Karen laughed slightly, placing the rest of the files on a chair beside the ancient machine and sliding a large, black disc from the file with the man on the front. She slid the disc into the machine gently balancing on the point of the needle on the disc. She motioned for Sherlock to place one set of the headphones over his ears doing so with the second pair.

"There really is only one way to listen to music" she whispered to herself eyes glittering. Sherlock looked at her, flushed with excitement, eyes twinkling and felt that familiar squirm that he felt whenever he figured out a case or more recently when Karen was doing something, not brilliant but just being her usual self. Which to be honest he was finding her more and more brilliant each day.

He gently placed the padded phones over his ears, listening to the crackling sound of the disc spinning on the turn table. Karen pressed a button and a drum beat came through the headphones making Sherlock jump. He pressed the phones into his ears blocking out the noise from the outside world as a smooth voiced man began to sing.

"The warden threw a party in the county jail, The prison band was there and they began to wail
The band was jumpin' and the joint began to swing , You should've heard those knocked out jailbirds sing..."

Karen cheered internally as Sherlock bemused face lifted slightly into a smile, his eye light up and she could have sworn that she could see him slightly tapping his foot along to the beat.

Sherlock lifted the headphones, a huge smile on his face. The last remaining beats of the final "record" as he had been corrected, faded away into nothingness, but the feeling remained. The hyped up energy, the pounding heart, the strange urge (that he had never felt before) to dance. The urge to sweep Karen off her feet and dance around the shop regardless of the looks that they would receive from the other people.

Karen removed her headphones as well and looked at him expectantly. Sherlock's faced dropped back into his usual emotionless expression.

"My turn" he muttered, a slight incline to his lips. He turned, swishing his coat dramatically as he went. Karen stared dumbstruck as he turned and beckoned her forward with a finger, the face still emotionless but with a mischievous glisten behind his eyes. Without further ado Karen bustled after him her eyes wide in expectation.

In a similarly dramatic fashion to which he had spun around before, Sherlock pulled a massive dust sheet from a Grand Piano in the corner. Karen had a sneaky suspicion that he had spotted that on the way in.

Sitting down and smoothing his coat on the seat beside him, he motioned for Karen to join him at the stool. She did so without hesitation, her breath hitched in an excitement that she simply could not comprehend.

Sherlock found himself breathing heavily, also. Since that first night when they had discovered their similarities when it came to music, the night when she had taken his hands in his, her warmth seeping into his, warming him to the very bone, they hadn't been in such close proximity since. But now they were sitting side by side, arms brushing the others, legs touching in the confined space. Sherlock could feel the heat radiating from her as she too became affected by their current situation.

Knowing her eyes were on him Sherlock slowly lifted the lid. His hands positioned themselves into their seldom used but never forgotten positions.

Karen gulped as she surveyed the long, slender but manly fingers. She coughed slightly clearing her throat, causing her to blush when she saw him cast a sideways glance at her. And then he began to play chords at first, harshly, then softly, before descending into a dramatic tempo with soft underlying chords.

Karen watched transfixed as his fingers danced along the keys, his brow furrowed in concentration but his eyes passionate and dark. Both hands worked in unison to create the dramatic tension which built and built. The tempo became upbeat before slowing down back to the first tune that he had played although this time softer. Sherlock required no sheet music, everything he was playing he remembered, one of the very few things of his early life that he deemed fit to remain in his memory.

He played the final note, slowly removing his finger from the key. He looked at Karen who was as flushed as he was. She cleared her throat once more and sat up slightly higher in the chair.

Her fingers began the chords of a song, one that even Sherlock wouldn't have trouble recognising. It had always been one of his favourites but had never quite mastered how to play it on the piano. He watched Karen now in wonderment as she had watched him moments ago, the same look of concentration plastered on her face, the same look of admiration on his.

Sherlock leant backwards picking up another instrument he had spotted on the way in. Karen looked up at him through her lashes smiling when she realized what he was planning to do. Placing the instrument under his neck he waited for the precise part to come in before playing the melody along to what Karen was playing. Even though he hadn't learnt it on piano, he certainly knew how to play it on the violin. He closed his eyes listening to the music that they were creating together, lost in the moment. He absentmindedly moved closer to Karen, not even hearing her slight pause when she felt his shoulder, close next to her. He most defiantly did not see her smile. Sherlock breathed out in the way that he had always been taught himself, fingers and bow moving expertly across the instrument.

Slowly Sherlock faded his part out leaving Karen playing on her own; she was slightly closer to him than before her body slightly pressing into his. Sherlock bit his lip as she finished the song, her eyes flickering up to look at his. Chocolate brown staring into ice-blue. They were only distantly aware of the people who had gathered to hear them play clapping, some asking for another song, some whispering and commenting on the couple.

"Thought you couldn't play the violin properly... John's always complaining about you" Karen whispered. Sherlock chuckled placing the violin on the floor.

"Well he's never heard me play properly, I only play properly when I'm around people I really care about." he said. Back to staring, silence as Karen processed what Sherlock had just said. His eyes bored into hers.

Karen was the one to break the stare. She looked down at her feet, clearing her throat. The way the man next to her had been staring... staring so passionately into her eyes. They had contained something that she hadn't seen in someone else's eyes for a long time. And she knew that hers had contained it as well. She shook her head and looked up at Sherlock. He was looking down at her in confusion, partly his own feelings confusing him and partly her reaction at his words.

"I... I have to go" she muttered reaching for Sherlock coat in her hast. Sherlock didn't even try to stop her; his fantastic brain was still ticking over their conversation. She shrugged his coat on and hurried out the door before running off down the street. Sherlock just leant on the table, his brain muttering at him as he tried to deduct/ understand what had just happened.

It was during their lesson that evening that he began to understand. It was the night of the incident at the music shop. They hadn't spoken properly for the rest of the afternoon, only interacting when she had asked him to pass the paper and when John, aware of the obvious awkwardness between the two had asked them what had happened, causing them to both snap at him simultaneously. Sherlock had pondered even going tonight, but he had to make things right. Even if he couldn't comprehend why she had run that afternoon, he still had to make amends.

He had seen her shape on the sofa lying down, as he passed to boil up the kettle and make the usual hot chocolates. His brain was still wondering how to begin the conversation after the evening of awkwardness when he heard a whimper coming from her direction.

Sherlock was immediately on the alarm; he turned and looked properly inside the room. Karen was thrashing around, in danger of falling off the sofa getting herself, more and more entangled in the bright, pink flowery cover that Mrs Hudson had put on the cover that week. Sherlock immediately realised what was happening. John had suffered from nightmares in the first few weeks of him living in Baker Street, Sherlock had often heard him screaming in the night. He rushed to her side and placed a hand on her contorted face.

"Karen... wake up" he said giving her a gentle shake. She let out another small whimper before her eyes flew open.

"Sherlock?" she said in a small voice. Sherlock cupped her face with his hand and stroked her cheek.

"Yeah I'm here" he whispered. Karen took a deep breath, closing her eyes, clearly relieved. All the events of the day were forgotten as she embraced Sherlock, her cheek touching his and her arms tight around his back. Sherlock didn't think twice before returning the hug.

"I had a dream about you" Karen muttered into his shoulder, where she was wiping tear stained eyes on his shirt. Sherlock bit his lip, wondering how to answer that statement.

"I dreamt that you died, on the night the flat blew up. You got me and John out but you were too late to save yourself. Like-" she said faltering as she remembered her brother's grizzly death. Sherlock knew all too well, how he and his brain would work in a situation like that. Her dream was far too accurate to be comfortable. And they both knew it.

Sherlock let his hands drop to her sides. She did similarly and her eyes followed him as he took a seat next to her, much closer than usual. She didn't even flinch as he placed an arm around her. She placed her head against his shoulder as though it was the most natural thing in the world, letting out another sigh of relief.

"I couldn't bear to lose you, Sherlock" she whispered before she realised what she was saying. Sherlock remained silent, pretending not to have heard but thinking the same thing about her. Neither said anything more. Nothing more was needed.