Change is Good

It was a quiet evening with nothing much going on. Dinner had just finished, and the Watsons were in the kitchen washing up the plates, so that left Molly needing to find something to occupy herself. She had been banned from the kitchen that evening, it was suppose to be an enjoyable night with her fiancé, thus- per doctor's orders- forbidden to cook or clean at all that weekend. Her fiancé, who took as much interest in washing up as a cat in water, was glad he had gotten out free in his turn to do "brain-rotting" work, as he so affectionately called it.

"Molly," he addressed her from His seat, "What would you like to do this evening? John tells me that I am suppose to let you decide these sort of activities and not complain."

"I don't know. Did you have anything in mind?" Molly opened his arms so she could sit sideways in his lap.

He wrapped his arms around her small frame and laird his chin on her shoulder, "Several ideas, but I do not know if they constitute as appropriate activities for these "date nights", John didn't give specifics on what was acceptable."

A cheerful laugh rang in his ears before his fiancée spoke, " Sherlock, I have known you for so many years now, long before John came into the picture. I know you are never one to follow social norms, if you did, I would be worried. Tell me them."

"Very well," he ticked them off his fingers as he described each one, "First, we could start a new experiment on the properties of corrosive acids on the pair of lungs you gave me the other day, or we could experiment on the eyeball. I've been eager to test it's resilience to a variety of chemicals and other fluids, but I need someone to help me. No one will, " he then leaned toward her ear and whispered," I wouldn't tell John though about this. He's been adamantly opposing any talk of it long before the ocular surgery happened. He felt Molly's hand slightly twitch so he hastily amended, "If those don't suit your liking, what if I let Estella sing for you? Or you could pick something else?"

"I like the last option best. You promised to let me hear your latest composition. It's finished?" He nodded. She continued, "I do have to agree with John though, I really dislike the notion of you experimenting on yourself, even if it isn't attached to you anymore. I don't even want to know how you managed to get the eye anyway, there are all sorts of rules and paperwork for that type of business," she brushed his curls away from his forehead and ran her finger lightly around the space where the missing organ had once resided. "It doesn't hurt anymore, does it?"

"Not like it did three months ago," he murmured enjoying her cool touch. "What about this one? The right eye," she asked and gently brushing his eyes closed, "does it bother you?"

"I ignore it and it goes away. Simple matter of tricking the brain into thinking about something else." He shrugged nonchalantly and turned away.

"Sherlock," she warned,"don't try to be tough. If tricking the brain is your solution to pain, then why the surgery for the left? If I recall correctly, prior to its removal, you felt miserable constantly. Could barely walk a straight line at times or much less Work properly." An indescribable expression flickered for a moment in his features before returning to their usual stoic setting.

He didn't have a response to her flawless logic, so just sat there silently contemplating question she posed.

Maybe the mind isn't as powerful as it is. Maybe something's just can't be overcome with thinking alone. Regardless of why the surgery was performed, the eye needed to be removed. It was the most logical course of action. It had ceased taking in light about four years ago, but the past year it was giving me constant pain- particularly headaches. It made record keeping for my Mind Palace extremely difficult. Near impossible at times. So it was the only available course of action to take because it lacked use anymore. Perfectly logical.

"I know when you're fibbing. It hurts a lot. In fact, it hurts quite a deal right now. Yes?" He conceded to answering her honestly thus gave a short nod. She lightly brushed his eyelid closed again, then circled the eyeball with very gentle massage-like movements. "It's okay to accept the pain and say it out loud. No one with think less of you if you do so, Sherlock."

"It is not in my nature to voice expressions of any kind," he countered, "You know that Molly Hooper."

"That's true, but that doesn't mean you can't change. Now, let me hear this newest one." She retrieved Estella and placed it in those talented hands, then huddled on the sofa waiting for her private concert to start.

He spent an hour playing all his favourite compositions from Bach, Brahms, and Vivaldi before adding in his own pieces to the repertoire.

At the end of the last note he bowed gracefully accepting Molly's applause, "They're quite lovely Sherlock. You really do have a talent for music, unlike me. I just never could count the rhythm properly and play at the same time."

"You could, takes practise. Here. Let's start with something simple," Sherlock held Estella like a guitar and plucked four steady notes,"clap your hands in time with each note. Good. Now keep clapping and I will play a note every time you don't clap, which is called the offbeat." Molly tried the syncopated rhythm and stumbled a few times before she succeeded in keeping the beat.

"There. It isn't that hard now, is it?" Sherlock held out Estella to her, "I have another thing to show you. Take her here by the neck and place her on your left shoulder." Molly did so then took his hand placing it on the violin's bridge allowing him to feel her posture before making a few minor adjustments to it.

She was learning how to count rhythms and play the violin whilst Sherlock learnt how not to be so ridged in keeping his feelings buried down in logic.

A-N: I wrote this one and the latest chapter of WOEO (A Agreeable Trade) at the same time, hence the huge similarity in setting. Thanks for putting up with that! See you soon again!