A/N: Hello, lovelies! As always, I'm so pleased when you leave me reviews. It's nice to get some feedback and appreciation. Also, if you have any critique or suggestions on anything, I'd love to hear!
I'm glad that you all appreciate the musical aspect of this! As a musician, having other people show their excitement about it is so thrilling for me!
I also wanted to answer fantasias review, since they didn't leave a link so I could privately message them. Good choice in classical composers! I just played a Brucker symphony and it's killer on the back. Have you ever heard Smetana's "The Moldau"? I love it to pieces. I love soundtracks! Especially Lord of the Rings. Did you know that there's a lot of musical similarities between that soundtrack and the music of Wagner, inlcuding some of the musical techniques used?
Okay, sorry ya'll. :) Anyways, enjoy, and I only have created the character Anna.
Sherlock ran out to the sidewalk and turned his gaze to Anna's window. The music stopped playing and was replaced by the loud sound of his own breathing. In a brief panic, Sherlock ran to the front door of Anna's building. He slid his hand down all of the buzzer buttons in attempt to gain access inside.
He stood there a second, shifted his weight back and forth, and gave up. When it came down to it, patience never seemed to be his strong suit.
Sherlock ran to the side of the building. Steering his gaze upward, Sherlock found the stairs to the fire escape. He jumped up and found the hanging ladder to the metal flight of stairs. The weight of his body pulled the extension of the staircase down to this full length and Sherlock walked on up.
He quickly scaled several flights of stairs and rounded the corner. He peeped quickly into every window he passed until he found one that looked right. He jimmied the lock to the window open and slinked on in.
He was in Anna's bedroom.
In massively long strides, Sherlock made it through the room and out towards the living room.
There, he found Robert standing in the middle of the room. Sherlock ran up to him and tightly grasped his large hand around the man's neck. A gurgle-like crack came from his throat as his airway constricted and he attempted to pry Sherlock's hand away from his throat.
"What did you do?" Sherlock seethed, his own face close to Robert's. By then, Robert was gasping and his complexion was turning paler and paler. "WHAT DID YOU—." Sherlock began to yell and shake Robert's body back and forth.
"SHERLOCK!"
He looked over his shoulder, momentarily stopping his actions but not loosening his grip at all.
Anna stood in the doorway of her kitchen with two mugs—one in each hand. "What are you doing! Are you mad?!" She rushed to his side, setting down the mugs on a side table as she passed it. With her now empty fists, Anna started beating at Sherlock's side. "Let him go, you ass!"
As if a sort of shock and disbelief, he suddenly remembered where his hands were. He released Robert from his grip. The sharp inhale from Robert as he regained his breath was ignored. Sherlock stumbled aside.
Anna rushed to Robert's side. "WHAT were you thinking?" Anna shouted again as she cared to Robert.
"I—." Sherlock stuck a hand in his curls. He slowly circled around, now taking in his surroundings fully. The cello lay on it's side and the viola on the couch. SHUBERT was labeled at the top of a piece. He pulled it away.
Sonata Arpeggione.
He threw it on the ground.
"GET OUT!" Anna threw something his way. Sherlock walked over the couple crouched on the floor and ran through her front door. He took steps two at a time on his way down the flights of stairs.
Sherlock retreated back to the confines of his own room.
He had been in his room, sitting on the edge of his bed facing a bare wall, for nearly two hours. He was thinking. Not quite in his mind palace but still thinking. Rewinding events. He was trying to understand where he went wrong. He was never so rash. Also, those texts he'd received.
Sherlock pondered these thoughts.
At some point, John barged into his room, not even bothering to knock.
"What the bloody hell were you thinking!" John came up to him. Sherlock didn't respond so John bent down to make their faces level. "Are you daft?" Again, he didn't respond. "For the genius some make you out to be, you can be such a block head!" Angered, John walked circles in the room flinging his arms around with each harsh syllable.
"I got these texts." Sherlock barely mumbled.
"Texts." John stopped his pacing. "You got texts." Each word was sharply articulate and slow.
Sherlock shifted his gaze over towards John.
"Oh right. Texts are a legitimate reason to strangle a man!" John huffed again.
Without saying anything, Sherlock pulled out his mobile and wiggled it in the air for John to see. John rolled his eyes but still took the mobile anyways.
John's facial expression softened from angered to confused in a mere minute. "Hmh," He sighed when we finished reading them and handed Sherlock back the mobile. John stuck his hands in the pockets of his trousers. They both sat in silence for a moment.
"You were worried about her."
"But what do they mean?" Sherlock completely ignored John's remark and jumped up from his spot only to pace back and forth and pull at the roots of his hair.
"Shubert, the composer, right?" John watched as Sherlock continued to pace the room.
"Yes."
By then, John had pulled out his own mobile and found the first search on the internet, under Wikipedia.
"Schwanengesang ("Swan Song") D 957 is the title of a posthumous collection of songs by Franz Schubert. The collection was named by its first publisher Tobias Haslinger, presumably wishing to present it as Schubert's final musical testament to the world."
His lips moved silently as he continued to read the article.
"Franz Liszt later transcribed these songs for solo piano."
"It looks like it was originally for voice, then piano. Anna plays the cello so she couldn't have played this song." John looked up from his mobile screen. "What da'you think it means?"
"I don't know." Sherlock pulled up the texts messages from before and reread them again, searching for any actual meaning.
John, still on the internet, was scrolling through his screen. And then he suddenly stopped.
"Sherlock." He handed the mobile off.
Sherlock smacked himself hard in the forehead and gasped at what he read. "How could I have missed that!" He threw the mobile to John and ran out the door.
The mobile, landing screen facing up was on a new Wikipedia page. The title: Swan Song. The first phrase read:
""Swan song" is a metaphorical phrase for a final gesture, effort, or performance given just before death or retirement."
Remember to find me on Tumblr: morethanyourpast
I'm always happy to talk music or nerdy things with people. Ta!