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“Damn it!”
Sherlock cursed for the nth time as he clicked his tongue in frustration. He hit a wrong note again.
The blue-haired has been practicing the same piece for the last few hours, but he just kept on hitting the wrong notes. He then restarts again, trying to keep it precise as written on the score. He was already feeling frustrated, aside from the fact that he’s gotten sick and tired of playing the same piece over and over for several hours now.
As soon as he once again hit a wrong note, he finally gave up. He placed his violin on top of the table then slumped his worn-out being on the sofa while removing his ponytail, raking his fingers through it to ease the stress he’s feeling. He felt the exhaustion following up the moment he heaved a hefty sigh.
Tomorrow is one of the most prestigious music competitions in London. An important day for Sherlock because he had been looking forward to it. The entire country would know him once he wins it and the prize would be grand. And now, he’s currently in an empty room in a random concerto hall for God-knows-what-time-it-is practicing for tomorrow’s competition. Not long before he knew, he was peacefully napping on the sofa out of exhaustion.
/bzzt bzzt/
Sherlock woke up from the vibration that his phone was making, his blue orbs eyeing at the current time.
Ten forty-seven...
“It’s already that late?” he sighed while raking his disheveled blue hair.
He tsked in annoyance as he checked his messages that reached over 10+ and a few missed calls from Mycroft, his older brother. He opened the message that was on top of the queue.
[From: Mycroft at 7:33 PM]
Where are you? Are you finished practicing?
[From: Mycroft at 8:17 PM]
Sherly, where in the heavens are you? You’re worrying mom.
[From: Mycroft at 9:21 PM]
Sherlock Holmes, please come home now. You need to be early for tomorrow.
Cut me some slack, will you?
He scratched his head.
Sherlock actually didn’t want to go back. He still wanted to stay and play more... Yet it was already late. He needed to come home now, either way, he’s still getting an earful from his brother when he arrives.
So he stood up, stretching his back and arms as he snatched his score from the sheet stand and picked up his coat that now looks creased and crumpled, then wore it on his shoulder, still holding onto it.
He slowly and quietly exited the music room as he walked along the hallway to find the exit. But something caught his attention.
A faint melody of piano keys.
As much as he’s surprised that there is still someone (aside from him) in one of the rooms in a deserted concerto hall, playing piano at 10 o’clock in the evening, the blue-haired felt a sudden rush of excitement and curiosity in him. So he hurriedly checked each one room, looking for the person behind the melodies that piqued his interest. But then he saw a half-opened door from a room at the corner along the hallways. The ray of light that shone through from the door drew him closer then he slowly opened it, peeking inside.
And there he found him.
Sherlock’s eyes were fixed on a young man with fair skin and a thin build, gracing his slender fingers on the piano keys smoothly. He couldn’t get ahold of the person’s face because he was fronting at the window while only its silhouette from the moonlight showed. The familiar piece that this unknown person was playing aroused his interest towards him the more he observed the person’s movements and the way he presses the keys. It was almost as precise as the original piece. It made him shiver. Various emotions flooded him just by seeing a person play the piano oh-so beautifully that he’s completely mesmerized and drawn to it.
His thoughts finally came through as he remembered the name of the piece.
“Love’s Sorrow by Fritz Kreisler, Rachmaninoff’s Piano Arrangement.” he murmured.
The mysterious person jolted from his seat, hitting the wrong key upon hearing Sherlock’s voice behind him. His hands trembled as he slowly turned behind with his scarlet-red eyes fixed at the blue-haired who was standing by the door. The person’s blonde hair moved fluidly along the night breeze as his face was painted in shock with tears that kept on streaming down on his porcelain face. Sherlock squinted at him.
Has he been crying the whole time he’s been playing?
“Wh-who are you?” the person’s voice was shaking as if he saw a ghost in front of him.
“Uh... H-hey?”
Both of them just exchanged looks while being frozen in place for a few seconds. Well, neither one of them expected to meet a complete stranger in the middle of the night.
“Ahh... Sorry, I was on my way out of the hall when I heard music in the hallways, it kinda scared me a bit, but it’s just a person, thank God...” Sherlock scratched his head, letting out a soft laugh.
The person just looked at him, perplexed.
“.. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop nor scare you... You were playing the piece sleekly. You kinda caught my attention.” He added. The person still didn’t respond, but he felt relieved when the latter slowly mellowed down, seeing his shoulders relax a bit.
“I was sure the door was closed when I went inside..” his voice was soft. Sherlock almost heard it vaguely.
Oh, he can talk... Jesus, I almost assumed that he’s an actual ghost.
Sherlock thought inside his head.
“It.. was open..” Sherlock answered.
No response.
“Oh...” the person plainly replied as he wiped his tears with his fingers. Sherlock walked towards him, placing his violin on a table, then offered his handkerchief. The latter just gave him a weary smile.
“You look... Really miserable”
The blonde let out a silent chuckle, then stared at the handkerchief he was holding. “Do I?” his voice was deep and sounded tired.
He lightly dabbed his tears away with the edge, then folded the handkerchief neatly, returning it back to Sherlock.
“... Well, on the other hand, you look pretty stressed.”
“As a matter of fact, I am stressed... Well, I have been here in the hall since afternoon.” he tucked his handkerchief in his pocket.
“But the hall is closed during weekends.”
“I snuck in, of course. The same goes for you... How did you get in?”
“I have my ways. I come here very often..”
Sherlock stifled a chuckle.
“Aren’t you an interesting fella?”
“I doubt that. I’m just an ordinary person..” the blonde starts to press the keys on the piano once again, playing the same piece as before. Sherlock sat on a stool beside the piano as he listened. There was only silence for a few moments. Sherlock rested his head on the table beside the piano near the blonde, observing him.
From his puffy red eyes and little eye bags showing that he has got no sleep for a few days, to his unkempt shoulder-length blonde hair that covered his scarlet eyes every time the night breeze blew. He didn’t know why but the song somehow gave him a feeling that this person is currently hurting, which is pretty clear because of the piece he’s playing right now, there must be a reason behind it and he just felt the need to know. Sherlock couldn’t help the curiosity seeping right through him.
“Why were you crying earlier?” Sherlock suddenly asked.
The blonde’s tempo suddenly went off. Still, he just kept on playing.
“Ah... That is..” the latter sighed with a soft, weary smile.
“.. M-my little brother’s been very ill... The doctors said that he won’t... Be living any longer in less than a week..” tears welled once again in his eyes. Sherlock just listened to him quietly, looking at him with sympathy.
“I want to be with him more, I want to play more songs and join competitions together with him..”
The blonde collapsed on the piano, breaking down and crying his heart out. Sherlock just stared at him. A pang of pain suddenly grew in him. He couldn’t get off his chest. He stood up, hesitating to give the latter some comfort to ease the pain.
Should I caress his back? Hug him? Offer him my handkerchief again? What am I gonna do?
Should I just leave him be until he stops crying? Sherlock, just comfort him you dumbass!
He cursed in his head.
He didn’t know what to do, so he ended up just leaving him be. It took the other a few minutes to at least lessen the sobbing, enough to raise his head up and wipe his tears again. He looked like a crying mess.
“I’m really sorry for this unpleasant behavior I’m showing. It’s really embarrassing..” the blonde exhaled through his nose, making a sound that was almost like a laugh while wiping his tears with his sleeves.
“Ah no! Not at all. I feel kinda bad just letting you cry without trying to comfort you at least. It’s okay to cry. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s a good thing, actually.”
“I.. Can’t do that.” he placed his hands on his thighs, slouching.
He slowly looked down. His scarlet eyes were losing their shine under the shadows of his hair. It looked like he just hit his breaking point.
“Why not?” Sherlock asked.
“My brother looks up to me a lot. I can’t show this pathetic side of mine because I might worry him. I don’t want him to blame himself over and over for being a burden even though he’s really not because it’s just hurting me more.”
As strangers, it would be pretty weird if he just hugged him out of nowhere without warning. But Sherlock is already feeling fidgety on whether he should give him a hug or not. He noticed the latter’s palms looking pale and shaky; the windows were open wide so whenever the breeze from outside enters the room, his lips and hands would slightly quiver from the cold. It was unusual that he looked more frail compared to a healthy man. So he stood up then...
“Here you go” Sherlock took his coat then placed it around him.
The blonde slowly glanced up, tugging the hem of the coat to cover himself. “But you’re gonna get cold...” He spoke, then sniffed.
“Take it. You need it more than I do...”
“Thank you, you’re very kind.” The blonde slowly stopped shivering. He was feeling warm now.
Sherlock buried his hands in his pockets, looking at him.
“Ah, how rude of me. I haven’t asked for your name yet.” the latter sighed in almost a chuckle.
The blue-haired blinked at him for a few seconds, then smiled.
“My name is Holmes. Sherlock Holmes.”
“Ah, I’m William James Moriarty, pleased to be your acquaintance, Sherlock.”
“That’s some fancy name you got there.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Yours is oddly unique.” William chuckled.
“Now you’re smiling a bit.”
“Is it weird?”
“Nope, It’s nice to see you smile..”
Oh fuck, did I just say that out loud?
Sherlock also shocked himself with what he just said. The latter just raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Oh... Why thank you.” his smile grew wider.
The blue-haired just smiled back. William noticed something on the table behind Sherlock, so he tilted his head, peeking at his violin sitting on a table.
“You play the violin?” a curious look was painted on William’s face.
“Mmm... Tomorrow’s the competition I’m practicing for.”
“Ah... My little brother’s supposed to be competing in that competition too...”
“That’s a bummer...” Sherlock slightly shrugged.
William stood up, then walked towards the table where the violin was. He stared at it for a few seconds, then gently touched the strings.
He felt a little nostalgic.
Seeing it reminded him of his little brother, who loved to play the violin. He missed his smile when he got ahold of his violin for the first time, when he just mastered playing the basics of ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’, when they both took part in his first violin competition with William as his accompanist, when he won his first competition holding his gold medal, and a lot more bittersweet memories William could ever think of whenever he just sees a violin.
Everything reminded him of his little brother, and it hurt him every time. He just loves his brother dearly than anyone could.
He thinned his lips with a smile, letting out a good sigh, then turned to Sherlock.
“You know, my little brother loves playing the violin very much. He would always ask me to play together with him. Playing music thinking of someone you hold so dear gives more meaning to your play, and I think that’s what makes music beautiful..”
“That’s nice” Sherlock’s eyes never left him, listening to him quietly.
But in the back of his mind, he felt William’s love towards his brother was unwavering and utterly genuine. It was heartwarming.
“What about you?” The blonde interrupted Sherlock’s train of thought. He was looking at him, waiting for his response.
“.. For whom do you dedicate your performances?” William added.
“Ah, me? I... Don’t know. I have given a little thought about that yet...” Sherlock answered while massaging his nape. He then looked at William, who was just smiling at him gently.
“That’s okay. I’m sure you’ll find one someday. I hope your song reaches them if ever you’d find one.”
Sherlock tensed down, then smiled a bit.
“Yeah...”
“May I?” William pointed at the violin.
“Sure, go ahead. I’ll take on the piano” the blue-haired stood up then sat on the stool.
Sherlock’s fingers danced on the keys as William bows on the violin. The dark-haired just watched the blonde playing. Watching his every move and expression.
The way he slightly frowns in every high note he tries to hit, the way he sways his body along smoothly. Sherlock’s mind just thought of how ethereal he looks right now. (pretty gay I would say)
They played the piece until the end without mistakes. As they both looked at each other with smiles on their faces. They had fun playing together. Even though they just met this night. They both find comfort in each other.
/bzzt bzzt/
Ah, shit...
William tilted his head slightly at Sherlock. He just got a text message from his big brother.
“Time for Cinderella to go home now?” his smile never left him, putting down Sherlock’s violin and bow carefully on the table. The dark-haired just scratched his head in annoyance, diverting his attention from his phone to William.
“Ah, unfortunately, I have to go now...”
“It’s okay, take care then... Thank you for keeping me company, Sherlock.” William leaned back to the table.
“.. It was comforting and I very much enjoyed the duet with you. I’m glad you found me here.” he added as his smile grew wider.
“I also had fun playing with you. I hope we meet again so we could play more together. That’s a promise alright?”
William’s eyes widened a bit at what the other said. He felt a sick feeling from the pit of his stomach, giving him shivers. His pale hands slightly trembled, but then he looked up to Sherlock, keeping his smile on his face.
“Yeah, that’s a promise. I’m looking forward to it.” William replied.
“Will you be there in the competition to watch?” the dark-haired asked.
William’s eyes turned to the other side, thinking.
“I’ll... Try,” he replied with a chuckle.
“Great, then!”
William took off Sherlock’s coat that he lent, then returned it to him.
“Thank you for this, by the way”
“Ah, you’re welcome... I hope you somehow felt warm with it”
Sherlock just chuckled. His face suddenly lit up as he hurriedly rummaged through his pockets, fishing out the handkerchief he lent to him earlier.
“Here, you can have this.” He gave it to William, who just stared at the handkerchief.
“Ah, but you-“
“Just take it. And uh... Use it to wipe your tears when you cry, okay?”
William couldn’t speak. Not because he can’t accept the offer, but because Sherlock doesn’t know one more thing that he’s still hiding that he couldn’t tell him, probably because he couldn’t bear to see what his reaction would look like if he confessed that he lied all along. So he had no choice but to take the handkerchief then he carefully put it in his pockets.
“Thank you.” He replied.
They both just stood in silence for a few seconds as Sherlock spoke.
“Well, I’m heading off now! Take care of yourself too, a’right Liam?” The dark-haired took his bow and violin then walked towards the door, reaching for the knob when he felt something light pushed through him- more like... Hugged him.
“Ah-“
William hugged him from behind as his cold, trembling hands tried to wrap him around closer to him, looking for his warmth.
“L-Liam?” Sherlock stuttered. He turned around, then swiftly embraced his frail figure. Trembling. Cold. Thin.
“It seems like a very selfish request to ask for but... Please let me stay like this for a few minutes, and now you may go.” He begged in almost a whisper.
“A-are you cold? I can lend you my coat and you can return it tomorrow when we meet.”
He was breathing heavily, resisting the tears forming in his eyes. He wants to cry more with his warmth comforting him. Sherlock just stayed by his side until he pulled out. He seemed to have calmed down now. He caressed the blonde’s head gently, then stood up.
“Hey, I gotta go now, alright?” Sherlock whispered to him while William just stood with no response. So he turned away from him, then exited the room.
“Mmm, see you... Sherlock.” William uttered as he watched the door slowly close in front of him.
The competition was going smoothly.
Contestants were all assembled backstage, practicing and tuning their violins, while Sherlock was just sitting on a chair, with his violin in front of him, fidgeting. He’s really not that nervous to play because he knew he’d practiced enough, but what happened last night with William pretty much bothered him a bit. It gave him a really uneasy feeling when he was on his way home until he arrived home when he was about to sleep. He wasn’t even sure if he slept enough because all that was going on in his head was all that happened last night. It feels like he’s in a movie, too good to be true.
“You look like you’re about to shit yourself.” A deep voice caught his attention. He turned, looking up at his big brother, Mycroft, raising his right eyebrow at him. He is attending as his piano accompanist for his performance.
“Ah, I’m just... Having jitters” Sherlock replied.
His brother chuckled, “You? Nervous? That’s new... You were busy practicing all night, right? Why would you be nervous?”
Sherlock didn’t answer. He just rolled his eyes while tapping his fingers on the table, eyeing every contestant roaming around, practicing, and just sitting either reading their scores or wearing headsets listening to music. He buried his face in his arms, then relaxed his shoulders, sighing.
Maybe I have been overthinking too much...
“Go relax your head for a bit. You really seem to look pretty nervous. Take it easy Sherly” Mycroft tapped his shoulder as he slumped his back to relax his tensed nerves.
“#03, Sir Moriarty?”
Sherlock almost jumped from his seat from what he just heard.
“Sherly?! What’s gotten into you?” Mycroft got startled, yet the dark-haired paid no attention to him.
Moriarty? Wait- Liam is here? I thought he’s just gonna watch the competition? He’s going to play the violin?!
A faint blush tinted his cheeks as he turned around and saw a tall young man wearing a dark purple tuxedo with his blonde hair styled in a long side fringe. He looks more lively today. Sherlock just stared at him with a dumbfounded look, asking questions in his head. He couldn’t believe that he actually came. Well, he really expected him to come, but the fact that they’re going against each other just made him more excited and giddy.
“Yes, that’s me.” his voice was deeper than what he heard last night. It sounded pretty calm and composed.
He feels a bit confused, but he really couldn’t take his excitement anymore. So he approached William, then looped his arm around his shoulder with a big smile on his face.
“Yo Liam! I thought you were just gonna watch the competition? You were actually competing in it, huh? Haha! You tricky guy- “ he laughed, then gave a glance at William when his smile faded a bit.
He slightly looks different from last night, and... I didn’t know he wears glasses?
“Um... Who might you be? And how do you know my brother?” He gave him a perplexed look, trying to keep a little distance from him... Sherlock was getting even more confused.
Huh? Brother? So that means-
But his brother-
WHAT.
“Ah- I-I’m sorry... I thought you were William and- “ Sherlock was already stammering and feeling the embarrassment rise in his cheeks. He removed his arm from the latter, then buried his hands in his pockets.
“Erm... It’s okay... Common mistake” the blonde pushed his glasses up, with a still and stoic expression. “Mr. Moriarty? Your cue is up.” the lady called for the blonde.
“Ah, yes I’m coming. If you’ll excuse me...” he replied to the lady, then lightly bowed at Sherlock as he walked towards the door that led to the stage.
“What were you doing scaring the poor fellow?” Mycroft tapped his shoulder, then gave him a frown.
“I-I mistook him as William... The person who I met in the concerto hall while I was practicing last night,” Sherlock replied. He looked down.
“.. But how is his brother looking healthy right now? He said that he was sick and- “ he continued, whispering to himself when his brother interrupted him.
“Sherly.” Mycroft sighed at him, holding the bridge of his nose while massaging it slowly.
“What?”
“This... William you’re talking about is currently confined in the hospital because he snuck out last night in that concerto hall, and they found him lying on the floor in a music room when the security guard was checking the rooms in the morning”
Sherlock’s heart sank as he slightly stiffened right on the spot.
Unconscious? Wait... So he’s the one who is sick? Not his little brother?
But... Why did he lie?
“But- he was still looking sharp while playing the violin that time!” he was already looking agitated and worried. A few contestants were already eyeing their brief scene, whispering and looking at them.
Sherlock just walked past his brother, then headed to the TV monitor to watch the performance on stage, but his brother grabbed his arm and whispered in his ear.
“Listen Sherly, I don’t know what’s gotten into you today, but you have to keep yourself together. We’re here to perform and win, not to find some random blondie you just met last night.” His voice was monotonous, attempting to intimidate his little brother, yet it made no effect. Sherlock then brushed his hand off then walked to the TV monitor as he watched the young Moriarty perform. Much to his surprise, he just performed alone, without accompaniment.
“Why is he playing without an accompanist?” he whispered to himself.
He watched the young Moriarty on stage, bowing his violin wholeheartedly. It reminded him of William last night when he was staring at him while they were having a duet. Mycroft stood beside him with his hands in his pockets, also watching at the monitor.
“Love’s Joy by Fritz Kreisler.” Sherlock spoke.
“.. And William played Love’s Sorrow last night..” he added. The older Holmes just glanced at his little brother, curious of what his brain cogs are working on.
“This little brother played without accompaniment because William used to be his accompanist, and now that he’s hospitalized... He doesn’t want anyone to accompany him but only his big brother.” his face shifted into worry. Hearing every string and note the younger brother hits made him even sadder. They both just watched him silently until the very end of his play.
The performance was flawless; it left the audience in a standing ovation with applause and cheers, pretty uncommon in competitions, but it just proved that it was indeed a brilliant performance. They both watched the blonde bow at the audience, then walked backstage.
The door to the stage opened, letting out the blonde, who was welling in tears and cheeks red. He looked like he had been resisting the urge to cry in the entire performance. So he speed-walked past the backstage then proceeded to the restroom. He and Mycroft just watched the young Moriarty with worried faces painted on them.
“Poor kid, he must have gone through all of it a lot..”
Sherlock didn’t respond. Mycroft tapped him to return to their seats as they waited for Sherlock’s cue after a few more performances.
‘.. To whom do you dedicate your performances?’
William’s question suddenly popped into his head. He taps his fingers on the table as his brain turns some cogs, remembering what they talked about last night.
“To whom...” he whispered under his breath while heaving deep sighs. His mind drifted to his memories from last night. The melodies of music by Chopin just kept on playing in his head as he thought about William and him playing the duet.
“Liam...” he whispered his name.
‘.. Playing music thinking of someone you hold so dear gives more meaning to your play, and I think that’s what makes music beautiful’
He didn’t know how. He didn’t know why. But he just felt the sudden urge to see this man again, to hold him again, and to play with him again...
It was only for one time in one night that he could meet someone as gentle as him.
someone
.. who looked beautiful even though he was just standing there.
The moment he found him crying while playing made him want to wipe his tears away and tell him he’s going to be okay.
The moment he finally saw him smile made him want to do anything to make him happy, just to keep that smile on his face.
And the moment they hugged that night was the first time Sherlock felt his heart race. It made him want to protect him and never let go.
All of those feelings just came to him all in one night. He wished it would last a little longer. If not, he would wish for one more night with him in that music room again.
He has decided.
He now knows to whom he’s going to dedicate his music.
“#07? Mr. Holmes?” the lady staff called for him.
Sherlock stood up upon hearing his name. He took his violin and bow, took a deep breath, then approached the lady staff. Mycroft followed him while fixing his tie.
“Yes, ma’am... I’m here.”
“Your cue is up. You may now proceed beyond the door.” The lady staff smiled at her, then pointed at the door with her pen.
Sherlock lightly bowed in response to the lady staff, then opened the door with Mycroft behind him. He stepped out from backstage, feeling the welcoming breeze of the dry air conditioner and the faint smell of dust. The atmosphere was just the same as he always felt. The auditorium was full of the audience, with the judges sitting in the middle. His blue orbs scanned the entire area from left to right, then took a deep breath.
Sherlock slowly closed his eyes. He could feel his heart racing. He placed his chin on the chin rest then heaved another last sigh before starting his performance.
“I hope this reaches you, Liam.”
As I strum the first note, I hope it reaches you, in hopes for the next days and lifetimes to play together once again as true friends do.
So I thank you for that night. That night we shared for a few hours and two.
That one night when I met you.