Chapter Two – The Beautiful Summer Tune.
In the middle of the summer season, on the morning of the 23rd of June, 221B Baker Street was quiet one second then burst into life as a beautiful summer tune played on a violin, gently flowed though the rooms of 221B Baker Street, like the natural summer breeze.
John came down the stairs. 'Sherlock it's 6AM! I was hoping for a lie in seeing you made me stay up to catch that murderer!' John said as he came down and slouched on the sofa in the main living room of 221B. Sherlock said nothing, continuing to play.
'I should have know he was composing.' John said like a reply to himself.
Suddenly Sherlock stopped playing for a moment jotting down some notes on some music paper.
'John you know it helps me to think.' Sherlock replied before starting again to replay over he's new composition.
'What are you thinking about this time of the morning?' John asked curiously.
Sherlock's playing started to turn a little dark but still beautiful at the same time, John wondered what he was thinking about. As Sherlock stopped again to scribble down the notes of the part he just played. He simply said 'Him, John. I'm thinking of our friend the one we met just after we did, him John.'
John's eyes stared straight into to Sherlock's bluey, grey eyes and saw something he didn't think he'd see in Sherlock's eyes, the want of wanting to see a friend or someone you care about, something he would never see in his.
2.00 that afternoon, John and Sherlock were just coming back from chase though a park, a criminal with a stolen jewel. Just as they walked round the corner into
Baker Street, there was a groan of ancient engines roared towards them. They started to run. What they saw they couldn't believe, why would it be here outside their flat?
Why?
Sherlock was standing there at shock at it and John was stood in shock because he saw Sherlock was in shock.
As they approached the man, just about to ask why he was there.
He said 'Howdy, I'm here to see Dr John Watson and Mr Sherlock Holmes for some help, know where I can find them?'
As he finished he raised his hat and gave them a smile, a cheeky one.
A blue box with a man, an impossible man, a madman or as he called himself; A Madman With a Box…
Sherlock just managed to whisper his name, and that was also one of the last times he would ever say it again…
'Doctor..'