Work Text:
Sherlock played his violin expertly, a piece he’d written, watching the others in the room as he did. John and Mary cuddled together, hands holding Hamish on their lap. Mycroft and Lestrade standing behind the sofa, peering over the married couple, their hands touching in a way they’d hope no one would notice. His dad held his mum in his arms at the back of the room where they could overlook the scene. Sherlock knew a lot of things, more than most, but he’d be forever puzzled as to why people needed to express love and kindness with their hands.