Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Watson pretends to write up a case as Holmes plays his violin again, but the truth is he is noting down the way Holmes' hands move. He has been doing this on and off for years. Almost the entire time he has known his dear friend.

Watson learned about Holmes' black moods very early on when they started living together. He also learned just how much Holmes loves the violin. Both playing it himself and listening to others play it. It was then that Watson decided to attempt to surprise his friend and learn to play his beloved instrument.

He started by watching Holmes' hands, but when he struggled to remember their positioning, he took to drawing out the placement so he had a record of what Holmes' hands did to produce a beautiful sound.

He took to practising these motions when Holmes was out, much to Mrs Hudson's dismay. At first, it was screeching sounds he produced rather than the beautiful music that Holmes seemed able to make without even thinking about it.

"Sir! Must you make that racket?" Mrs Hudson had scolded him one afternoon.

"I am dreadfully sorry, Mrs Hudson, but I am attempting to learn how to play to surprise Mr Holmes in one of his black moods," Watson explained rather sheepishly.

Mrs Hudson had seemed to soften at that. She had given him a small smile and patted his arm gently.

"Oh, alright then, Doctor. I am sure I can endure for such a good cause. But do please learn quickly." She teased as she returned downstairs to the kitchen.

Since then, whenever Watson had attempted to play, she always gave honest but helpful feedback. She always told him when she thought he was improving and let him know when he wasn't getting it quite right.

It has been a long time coming - a decade and a half almost - but Watson can finally play most of the notes he has written down. He has almost an entire notebook full of notes about Holmes' playing, which notes sound good together, and which combinations are to be avoided.

Of course, Watson has always liked watching those nimble hands at work. Holmes' playing is both satisfying to watch (his hands as captivating as the music) and listen to. Because of this peculiar fascination with Holmes' hands, what would normally be a slightly tedious task was always enjoyable to Watson.

Holmes retires to bed and Watson decides to follow suit. He sits up in bed and tries to order the notes in his book into a pattern that he thinks will sound good to his friend, though he will have to test it alone first to make sure. Finding his eyelids closing of their own accord he decides to give up and go to sleep, hoping that he can practice his composition soon.

As it turned out he didn't get a chance to, for Holmes fell into a black mood that gradually got worse the longer he was without work. For the first two days, he was able to find things to keep him busy, if only for a little while, but by the third, he has no energy to do anything. Watson comes into the sitting room for breakfast and finds his dear friend lying on the settee with his arm draped over his eyes. Despite the lack of practice, Watson knows now would be a great time to test his composition and see if it has the desired effect.

He crosses the room, completely ignored by his melancholy friend, and carefully picks up the violin and bow. He tightens the bow the way he has seen Holmes do so many times and places the violin under his chin. Slowly he begins to move both his fingers and the bow in the way he has memorised and watches Holmes carefully. Holmes begins to stir at the sound of the music and moves his arm to watch Watson. Watson smiles at him sweetly and continues to play until he has finished the composition he worked so hard on for his dear friend. He gently puts the bow down on Holmes' armchair and begins wiping the resin off the strings of the violin when Holmes sits up.

"Watson? What was that?" He asks so quietly that Watson has to strain slightly to hear him.

"It was a little composition I put together last night."

"I had no idea you could play."

"I can't really. I learned by watching what you do." Watson smiles.

Holmes looks at Watson without saying a word. Watson can see his brain racing in his silvery grey eyes.

"Holmes?" Watson nudges when his friend doesn't say anything for a few minutes.

"You taught yourself by watching me play. But why?" Holmes whispers.

"I wanted to surprise you. I thought if I played you something when you are down it would cheer you up. It was no mean feat though my dear fellow." Watson laughs. "It has taken over a decade to learn!"

"You learned from watching me... For me?" Holmes is staring at him with a light sheen of tears glistening in his eyes. "You wrote a composition to cheer me up."

"Did it work?"

Holmes jumps to his feet and takes the violin out of Watson's hands. He pulls him into a rare embrace and lets out a small sigh.

"Perfectly my boy. Your talent for pulling me out of the darkest of slumps has shone through once again." A few silent tears run down Holmes' cheeks and Watson gently wipes them away.

Holmes picks up the violin and bow again and hands them to Watson.

"How would you like me to teach you properly my dear fellow? You play so beautifully and it would be a shame to never hear it again."

Watson smiles as he takes the violin.

"I would be honoured, Holmes."

Chapter Text

If you walked close enough on the country path you could often hear the faint sound of a violin playing. Naturally, most of the passers-by assumed it was Holmes playing, familiar as they are with his habits. The truth, however, is that it is often Doctor Watson playing.

That is precisely what is happening right now. Holmes is lying on the settee with his eyes closed, listening to the sound of his dearest friend and companion playing his old Stradivarius. Watson makes a few errors here and there, but his violin playing has improved greatly since Holmes started teaching him years ago. What started as a way to calm Holmes' black moods evolved in their old age to satisfy Holmes' need for the violin when his fingers no longer allowed him to play without pain.

As Holmes and Watson got older, Holmes developed a touch of rheumatism, particularly in his fingers, which made it harder for him to do things he used to do with ease. Playing the violin being perhaps the most noticeable. Watson, however, had only seen this as an encouragement to improve his skills even more as it seemed more and more likely that he would be playing violin for Holmes in their final days.

"Excellent Watson." Holmes compliments in that tone of voice that he knows makes Watson blush no matter how hard he tries not to. "You scintillate today. Your playing has come along in leaps and bounds my dear fellow."

"Well, I had a great teacher," Watson smirks as he joins Holmes on the settee after the latter moves to make room. "The best some might say."

"Mm, well," Holmes smirks. "They may be incredibly biased and, if I may say so, a little too drawn to romanticism."

"Coming from the man who taught me to play so I could play to you when you are unable to." Watson teased.

"You have had many uses to me over the years my dear Watson. The most recent being my own personal violinist. I say, did you know that the villagers think it is me playing? They must think me mad. Keep playing all the time."

"They wouldn't be far off I dare say." Watson smiles.

"Yes well, they are wrong, because it is actually my dear Watson who cannot stop playing. What was it you said years back? That I had an "addiction to music at strange hours". Yes that sounds about right. Who has the music addiction now my dear fellow?"

Watson smiled at the mirth dancing in Holmes' eyes as he teased.

"Still you old man. I only play when you ask me to."

"Ah, Watson. As steadfast and loyal as ever. I do so love these little concerts of yours."

"As I assure you I do when you can play. I have always loved nothing more than the sound of your violin old fellow."

"Ever the romantic." Holmes smiles as he closes his eyes and drifts to sleep, lost in the memories of Watson playing for him. His Watson learned the violin by himself years ago to surprise him and has never failed to play when Holmes has asked him to. His skills have improved drastically and it certainly brings both men an immense sense of joy.