No one outside of Dimmock's immediate family knew about his talent for the piano, except for Greg. In all aspects of the word, knowing how to play the piano was childish and girly. His mom never approved of it and certainly not his dad. They both thought it would corrupt his mind, and get in the way of his studies.
But not once did he ever give up on it. There would be a pause in the learning when a case was demanded, yes, but he never gave up on it fully. Though, he always tried to keep his job as a DI, and his hobby separate from each other. They were two worlds with two totally different Dimmock's living in them.
"I'm bloody scared as hell," Dimmock muttered mostly to himself as he peeked out from behind the curtain. It was the final night of the Telban's 50th young achievers music competition, the one night where he was someone else, someone that everyone respected, someone who didn't get harassed because he was the youngest DI.
"You're almost on, Iain."
Dimmock turned to the heavy set man directing him, before looking back out at the crowd. His brown eyes kept traveling to a particular seat in the front row. And every time he saw the empty red chair with the reserved card on it, his stomach would drop further.
Greg promised he'd be here and he always keeps his promises.
Letting the curtain close, Dimmock pulled out his phone, and checked the messages.
"Come on," he whispered, flipping through his inbox. "Where are you Greg?"
He was about to call the guy when his name boomed out of the overhead speakers.
"We are very pleased to welcome a home town guest, everybody. Please welcome Iain Dimmock as he plays Beethoven's fifth symphony!"
There wasn't any time to get a hold of him now, especially since he was about to go on. Setting his phone down onto one of the tables with obvious anger, and a lot of hurt, Dimmock made his way onto the brightly lit stage.
The crowd before him clapped quietly, not wanting to seem rude in front of the no doubt, in experienced man. But none of that mattered to him. It was all white noise in his muddled head at the moment. The eager eyes raking over him, expecting him to play beautifully, didn't even register with him while he waited for the noise to die down.
He promised he'd show up. Dimmock kept thinking over and over again as he stared at the empty seat. Why did he lie?
It shouldn't have been such a big deal to him. With their messed up work schedules, both men rarely ever had time for little tedious things such as concerts, or movies. They both knew never to get their hopes up about something like that. But still, the twisting feeling surged in his stomach and with each passing second brought a painful crushing worry that pounded against his heart.
Stifling the oncoming sob, Dimmock bowed and began to take his seat on the bench. And now, with no clue as to where Greg Lestrade was, Iain Dimmock pushed aside his ever growing pain and played one of the most beautiful performances that crowd had ever heard.