Anonymous
When John first heard the violin being played in the early hours of the morning, he thought he was going mad. He ran down the stairs only to see Sherlock with a look of pure concentration on his face as he made various notes and chords emit from the instrument he was holding.
John cleared his throat with a small cough, “Sherlock, what on Earth are you doing? It’s 3 A.M!” He said with a mixture of anger and curiosity.
“I don’t sleep. The violin helps to relieve my boredom.” Was Sherlock’s reply, still stood in the same spot with his eyes closed.
“Oh… Do you mind keeping it down a bit? I, unlike you, need to sleep.” John said while battling a yawn.
From Sherlock came no reply.
Over the next few months, John had become used to the violin being played at stupid o’clock in the morning. Sometimes, if he wasn’t too tired, he’d listen to the songs, adoring their beauty. One night, John made a vow to himself that he would ask Sherlock to teach him how to play the violin.
