A/N: I'M BAAAACK! Sorry that I've been away so long. School and all has kept me plenty busy. But, believe you me, this story was usually in the back of my head. I was itching to update it.
And I'm so pleased that so many of you still managed to find this even though I haven't updated in months! I'm glad you all are really enjoying it.
Anyways, since you all are so wonderful, I wanted to do a little update. I really wanted to write more to it but I also wanted it to be quality. But you all deserve an update so here's the result! I hope to post more soon! Let me know what you think, lovelies.
The next day was Sunday. Most people take Sunday to take a lay in. They allow themselves to rejuvenate for the upcoming week. Apparently, not Anna. Sherlock and John could hear her and her partner playing across the alleyway. They each sipped at their morning tea across from one another in the living room.
John looked over his paper and past his blue house slippers, over to Sherlock. Normally, Sherlock would be in a sour mood. Since the double date, Sherlock had never been particularly happy with this man Anna was seeing and practicing with. However, Sherlock seemed different. Pleasant, even.
Sherlock sat far back in his chair, his legs crossed and eyes still heavy from the nights slumber.
For once, he wasn't antsy. He wasn't rambling on with questions and ideas. He wasn't pacing across the room and wasn't coming up with one of his crazy experiments. And it was delightful.
John smiled to himself.
Finally, those two got together.
Sherlock let out a quiet sigh from his chair and closed his eyes softly.
If this is what he's like afterwards, he needs sex more often!
Sherlock sat in his chair with his eyes closed, intently listening to the music across the street. The pair had stopped playing together—they had rehearsed part of a quartet or trio, clearly, as the main melody seemed to be missing.
Shostakovich. Must've been. It was so wretched and lovely.
Now, it was just Anna playing.
Sherlock loved when she played. The tenor vibrations within the wooden body seemed to sooth his tense nerves.
Then, from across the room, Sherlock could hear his mobile vibrate against the hard tabletop in the kitchen. He ignored it. It wasn't important enough to pull his attention away.
A minute later, it vibrated again.
With his eyes closed, Sherlock could hear John crinkle his paper a little. The mobile vibrated angrily again. John cleared his throat.
"Are you going to get that?"
"No."
John could be heard grumbling as he got up and walked across the room to Sherlock's angry mobile. Sherlock continued to ignore it and solely focus on the cello across the way.
After a moment, John said, "Uh, Sherlock." He walked closer. "You may want to take a look at these."
Sherlock held out his hand and boringly looked at the screen.
Morning, Mr. Holmes. The first one read.
I know you're there. Said the next.
You're just across the room. Said the last.
Sherlock's nerves tensed up once more.
Who is this?—SH
I'm glad to have your attention, Mr. Holmes.
You do. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?—SH
For a minute or two, Sherlock didn't receive a text back at all. At the growing crecendo across the street, Sherlock could feel himself growing more rigid and uncomfortable with each passing second.
It's beautiful, is it not?
Excuse me?—SH
I do enjoy Shubert. It's what she's playing. She IS a skilled musician.
At the mention of Anna, Sherlock felt the muscles in his neck harden and his nostrils began to flare. He looked down at the screen of his mobile as it vibrated once more in his hand.
Shubert is quite the composer.
Is there a purpose to this?—SH
All in due time, Mr. Holmes. In the mean time, I'd suggest listening to your friend.
Why?—SH
Schwanegesang, Mr. Holmes.
John looked over towards Sherlock from the top edge of his newspaper.
"Problem?"
"YES, John." Sherlock threw his phone into the chair cushion. "FUCK." Sherlock grabbed at his hair and tugged. He threw the front door open and his heavy footsteps could be heard as he made his way down the flight of stairs.
"We were having such a good Sunday." John frowned and rolled his head back.
**For those who are unfamiliar with musical text, or German, a Lied is a German folk Song or an art song. Lieder are multiple or a collection of Lied. Shubert is very well known for his Lied, often from text by Heinrich Heine.
And thanks again! Stick around and see what's next. :)