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“Holmes, why DO you have so many violins? You seem to have one for every hideaway you maintain in London.”
Holmes stopped sawing away at his prized Stradivarius long enough to stare at his newspaper reading companion as if he were an illiterate bug. That is, he stared with a mixture of bafflement, curiosity, and a great desire to see if the bug could learn to read. “Watson, I had thought you better than that.”
Watson didn’t bother to look up. “Better than what?”
“You are blatantly disregarding the fact that every fiddle is different. They vary in tone, color, responsiveness, and countless other subtle but significant variations. In fact, just one of these instruments has more personality than the entire Scotland Yard force put together!” After this tirade Holmes calmly returned to his random double-stops.
Now it was Watson’s turn to stare. He knew his friend was eccentric but he really didn’t expect Holmes to be so defensive. “It was a simple question. No need to be upset.”
Holmes shrugged. “I started off with my Stradivarius and a lovely fiddle acquired from an acquaintance of Flora. From then on they just multiplied.”
“How many more have you purchased?”
For the second time this evening Holmes looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“How many more violins have you bought over the years?” Watson repeated a bit apprehensively. He found it worrying that Holmes hadn’t understood his question the first time.
“I’ve only purchased the two instruments.”
“Then how have you acquired the others? You must have at least six.”
“Eight.” Holmes corrected. “And I already informed you of how I acquired them: They multiplied.”
Watson sighed. Holmes really could be so infuriatingly vague. “Holmes, violins don’t just multiply. They aren’t rabbits for goodness sakes.”
“My dear man! Don’t be silly. They aren’t rabbits nor do they multiply like them.” Holmes set the bow aside and started plucking at the strings randomly. “Violins have a much longer gestation period.”
Watson’s jaw didn’t drop, exactly. Holmes thought a more accurate description would be that it jumped off Watson’s face and scurried under a table. “Holmes! Are you trying to tell me that your violins are humping?!”
“An accurate, if somewhat crude, description. They are well known to be rather…amorous. Sometimes they are even known to breed outside their “species” as it were. Pairings with ukuleles produce ukelins and if one is bred with a gramophone it produces the very curious Stroh violin.”
Watson’s eyes were wide and he remained silent.
“The Stroh violin is named after the man who first discovered this odd cross-breed.” Holmes clarified.
“I…Ho-…wha-…Holmes, really?!”
Holmes burst into laughter. “My good doctor! Of course not! You really shouldn’t be so inclined to believe everything I say. I-“ He was cut off by a resounding thunk.
Holmes rubbed the side of his head where a bruise was sure to form. "I supposed I deserved that."
"You did." Watson picked up his paper to finish his long neglected article. "Don't forget to return my shoe. I need it to throw at you the next time you decide to be an ass."