Work Text:
It’s late, he knows. There’s a reason no one else lives in 221B Baker Street besides himself, his roommate, and the landlady. Even then, the other residents of the place mind terribly when he plays violin in the wee hours of the morning but, bless them, they understand to an extent.
It used to be the music that calmed him. The notes that filled the space got better with each hour he spent pressing and plucking at the strings to get the right sound. Now, it’s the small vibrations that the bow sends through his fingers, and the thrum in his head as the sound resonates and drowns out any thoughts that had been plaguing him. The ones he can never be rid of. He lets them fade with the rest of the room. The fire crackling and the creaking of the wooden floors in the hall. He tunes it out. No thinking. No thinking...
Herlock doesn’t know how long he plays for, only that when he stops his eyes feel heavy when he finally tries to open them again. He sighs, setting his violin down on the short wooden chair beside him and loosening his bow. A hand through his hair probably doesn’t do it much good, but he doesn’t really care much. He drags the hand down his face and yawns, deciding to try and turn in for the night again. He doesn’t notice the figure leaning in the doorway until he looks up, and he immediately jumps. He’d forgotten about the other two residents of the building, and scolds himself briefly for not having remembered.
“Sorry.”
Always apologizing, this one. Miss Susato seemed to have much more confidence than the lawyer, and Herlock would say he expected it to be the other way around, but it seems that many of the women in his life don’t fit the description used for Mr. Naruhodo. He’s not sure he knows anyone this nervous about… well… everything. Mr. Naruhodo is even trembling slightly now, his arms drawn tightly around himself as he looks anywhere but where Herlock is standing.
“I didn’t mean to listen in, I was just… well I heard you playing and…”
Herlock waves a hand dismissively, making his way over to the hearth and eyeing the dim fire. “No need to apologize, my dear fellow. I don’t mind an audience.” He gives the other man a small smile, before putting out the remainder of the flames. “What concerns me more is what’s keeping you up at this hour.”
Despite how anxious the man always is, he’s very quick; Herlock will give him that--
“I could ask you the same question, Mr. Sholmes.”
--but, for all his brevity, he’s not very good at hiding his feelings. His eyes give him away. He’s troubled, Herlock can see that much at a glance. But he’s also not dressed in his usual attire. He’d woken up, but why?
“I decided to practice,” he answers, still flitting about the room and tidying up a bit. He’d left some papers out on the coffee trunk. Iris would surely harp on him about it in the morning if he left them out, especially with guests over.
“At half past two in the morning?” The other man continues to press.
“No better time, I’d say.”
That earns him an amused huff, but not much more. He glances in the lawyer’s direction again, only to see tired eyes watching him. Concern floods him instantly; a feeling he’s not entirely unfamiliar with, but not used to either.
“Mr. Naruhodo, I really must ask… are you quite alright?”
This seems to catch him off guard. “What? Of-of course I am.”
Herlock purses his lips. “Mm.” He leaves it there, allowing silence to fall and waiting for a few moments. Sure enough, the other man fills the space.
“I mean, I just… I had a bad dream and when I woke up I heard you playing. The music…” he grabs at his right sleeve, almost as if he’s searching for something. “...it helped, that’s all.”
It’s quiet for another long moment while the detective decides whether to press the conversation further. Herlock knows, of course, that he and Mr. Asogi were very close. The pieces begin to fall together in his mind. A nightmare, likely about his late partner, had woken the young man. Herlock suddenly remembers why he’d started playing violin in the first place.
“Come. Sit down.” He does so as he offers, gesturing to the seat next to him on the settee. As the lawyer slowly pads his way over, he lights a candle and places it on the trunk. It’s one of Iris’s, when she was making them all the time. He remembers her fascination with candlemaking well, and is constantly reminded by the abundance of them that they have stashed around the place.
“It’s lavender,” he says softly, although it still makes the lawyer jump a little. A confused look is thrown his way. “The candle,” he clarifies. “Iris made it. The smell is supposed to help with stress.”
“Oh.” The man looks awkward. “Thanks…?”
“Of course.”
Another silence. Herlock speaks before he can second guess himself. “Tell me about your dream.” He expects the surprised look he gets in response.
“What? Why?”
“I’m curious.” He realizes that that’s the wrong answer as soon as the words come out of his mouth. “What I mean to say is, I want to help. Or listen. Or both,” he concludes.
The lawyer still looks a bit taken aback. “Um, it’s not very interesting…”
Herlock shakes his head. “It doesn’t have to be.”
He looks down at his hands, now folded tightly in his lap. The detective watches him carefully; sees him attempt to push something out of his mind and notices the difference in his posture as he forces himself to keep his nerves in check. What a fascinating individual… part of him wishes he could just peek into the lawyer’s mind, if only for a moment. If only to take a break from the noise in his own head.
“It was about Kazu… M-Mr. Asogi.”
Herlock nods. He had been correct.
“It was just remembering him, that’s all. One minute we were sitting and eating together; laughing. Then next…”
“He was gone.”
The lawyer squeezes his eyes tightly shut, and Herlock can still see his hands trembling. He can sympathize on a great many levels, but instead of saying anything he elects to remain silent for once.
“Sorry.”
Another apology. Herlock quickly shakes his head. “No need to apologize.”
“Oh, s… um…” he trails off, keeping his hands clasped and his eyes downcast. “I should probably go to bed.” He stands quickly. “It’s getting late…”
“Yes, probably for the best.”
The lawyer suddenly turns to face him. “You should go to bed too.”
Herlock huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, my dear fellow. I will eventually.” He gives the detective a skeptical look, which Herlock shrinks at. “I just find it difficult to sleep sometimes.”
He’s not sure what urges him to say it, but a moment later Mr. Naruhodo is at his side again, looking at him with open curiosity. The detective shakes his head. “You needn’t ask, Mr. Naruhodo. If you’re tired, you should re tire. ” That draws a small laugh, but the man seems steadfast.
“Mr. Sholmes, you listened to me. It’s only fair that I return the favor.”
“I’m afraid I can’t say much, my dear fellow…”
“I get it.” He doesn’t. “But just… sometimes it helps?”
“Oh, I know.” Herlock smiles wryly. “Someone used to tell me that all the time. He’d do the same thing you’re doing.”
Naruhodo raises an eyebrow. He’s onto Herlock. “Who is he ?”
“Never mind,” he attempts, but the lawyer is relentless.
“No, you’ve already piqued my curiosity Mr. Sholmes.” He gives Herlock a pleading look. Herlock rolls his eyes, but he feels himself relieved in a way.
“He was someone I knew a while ago. He’s quite far away. I haven’t seen him in years.” Herlock feels his voice getting a bit weaker, and he shrugs in order to shake off some of the emotion threatening to come out. “We still talk. It’s not as if I haven’t heard from him. Not nearly as depressing as your sorry tale, I’m afraid.”
Naruhodo gives him a sour look. “Still…” he responds, “You might be able to see him again, but you have to wait a long time. At least I know Kazuma’s not coming back.”
Oh. And if Herlock said that didn’t make him feel a stab of guilt, he’d be lying through his teeth. Now he feels twice as bad.
“Ah! Sorry, I didn’t mean to… oh dear.”
“No, it’s quite alright. I choose to look forward to the next time I can see my partner again.”
Naruhodo suddenly looks guilty. Herlock ponders this. “Is something wrong?”
The lawyer quickly shakes his head. “No! No, ah. I just found it strange. Kazuma was… he was my partner.”
“Oh!” Surely not in the same way. But Herlock appreciates the thought. “It is quite nice to have someone who you can talk to, bounce ideas off of, confide in.”
“Ah, yes. Yeah, it was nice.”
Was. Herlock feels even worse. He’s going to have to tell Mikotoba that the next letter will be an invitation to his funeral.
“Um, I was just curious, Mr. Sholmes, is your partner in Japan?”
All of Herlock’s thoughts come to a screeching halt. How--
“Sorry! I was wondering because I think I might--”
“How on Earth did you deduce that?” Herlock blurts, genuinely confused. He truly can’t connect any of the dots. Does he have something Japanese in his possessions? Of course he does, but not anything that can identify Mikotoba…
“Oh, I just knew someone who came to Japan from London, that’s all. He did medicine and stuff, which is kind of like what you and Iris do?”
“Very different, my dear fellow. At least from what I do. Iris, however, is probably a more accurate comparison.” Shut up, Sholmes.
“Ah, well, fair. Anyway I, um…” Naruhodo still seems ashamed for some reason.
“What?”
“Oh! It’s just that… well, I hope you get to see him soon, Mr. Sholmes,” he immediately winces. “I mean, yeah. You know what I mean.”
“I hope you do as well, Mr. Naruhodo.”
He gives Sholmes a confused look.
“Wait, I didn’t mean--”
“No, it’s okay.”
“Apologies.”
“It’s fine.”
They fall into an awkward silence. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Says the mantra in his head. Why did you say anything?
“I should go to bed.”
“A sound idea.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Please get some rest?”
“I’ll try.”
“Thanks.”
It’s a short, simple conversation, and yet Herlock feels so many words hanging in the air. So many things left unsaid. So many secrets…
Naruhodo leaves and Herlock sinks into the settee, closing his eyes and urging tears not to fall. It’s so much, so much. So many things in his head and all of it he just wants to flood out of his mouth until nothing is left unsaid; until every truth is revealed.
Maybe then he’d be able to sleep.