entranceway | [Accidental Video]

[John was about to casually make his way into the remade 221B living room when the quiver of violin chords made him pause, hand pressed against the door.

Sherlock was playing.

And the music that shivered through the air--Bach, he recalled from his school days as well as Sherlock's musical repertoire--is sad toned, accompanied by what sounds like a piano through a radio, or some electronic device. Is Sherlock... playing a duet with someone? He's never heard the detective play in tandem with someone else.

He pushes the door open, freezing as he watched the detective dictate the last few notes from his violin before turning off his communication device, something about his expression pulling at the doctor. He fumbled awkwardly for a conversation starter, one that didn't imply his lingering outside the closed door like an eavesdropper.]

...Bach?

[He made it sound like a guess, gathered from the notes he had made his appearance for.]

Edited 2012-05-17 16:59 (UTC)

[Sherlock did his best not to look surprised at John's arrival. He was quite sure he'd disapprove if he knew who he'd been entertaining. He stood up, putting his violin away.]

Yes, a sonata. Obviously.

[He loosens the bow strings, his dressing gown falling off his shoulder.]

[John watched Sherlock go through the motions of putting the violin away, licking his lips thoughtfully.]

Right. Obviously.

[His gaze wanders over Sherlock's half turned back, frowning slightly. The haunting tone still rang in his ears.]

Rather melancholy sounding stuff. Could have sworn I heard a piano too... You doing alright?

Hm? Oh, yes. Fine. [Hah.] The, ah, device... thing started recording while I was playing. Thought I'd deactivated any settings which would cause something of that nature but... well, a few fellow residents are also musically inclined. A few duets, the accidental solo performance.... not really what I had planned on but it's been... interesting.

[He plops down in his chair. Dressing gown, sad music and plopping are not really parts of his 'fine' repertoire.]

Uh-huh...

[John obviously isn't convinced. He's been around Sherlock enough to read the detective as well as anyone possibly could, and the uncharacteristic flop is a disconcerting addition to the mix.]

Well, not too bad then. Got to show off a bit, make some new friends? For an accidental recording it could have been far worse.

[He grins, though it quickly falls as he watched the other man.]

You know, you don't seem fine. Anything I could do...?

Edited 2012-05-18 00:56 (UTC)

Not unless you're inclined to commit a gruesome and intriguing murder for me to puzzle out. [Sigh] No, I'd know it was you. Too easy. First clue would be the victim's nature as a villainous person thereby giving you moral right to kill them, followed by a method of death that would either be somehow contingent on their own bad behavior or quick and sudden so as to not linger. Secondary option would be someone sick or hurt whose rebirth in Wonderland would benefit them in which case the manner of death would not only be quick but painless.

[Weary sigh. So many little problems running through his mind. Little things that are more or less his fault entirely. Distractions would be nice....]

I wonder what it's like to die...

Sorry, I wouldn't make a very good murderer....

[John's smile, quirking up at the tail end of his joke, freezes and wavers before dropping at Sherlock's last muttered wondering.]

'Wonder' what it's like to-- Jesus. None of that, now. It was hard enough watching you die once. I won't be having that happen again while I can help it, reincarnation or not.

[Oh. He's been insensitive again. Well, really, that's the least of his ills. But sure, pile it on.]

I'm sure I'll get the chance eventually. I can wait.

[He eyes the closet... going to get a packet of cigarettes if things don't become less... less this.]

Oh, you can wait, then. Pleasant thought, that.

[John purses his lips, eyeing the sulking--that's right, sulking--detective with slight frustration.]

So save from contemplating your own death, you're just going to... sit there, is that it?

[The former soldier shifted his weight and folded his arms like a disappointed parent. If Sherlock wasn't going to tell him what was wrong beyond the boredom, and John was quite sure there was more to it, then there was little else he could do.]

You may also remember, until recently, I had been playing my violin. It's not as though I've done nothing with myself all day. There was a fair bit of musical aptitude on display for the whole of Wonderland if you care to look back in the records.

[Oh, where to even begin with what's wrong? You machine!; If you acted like a human being for once in your damned life...!; You're me. It's all very... compounded with odd concerns backed by his brother's words of wisdom and a very long fall. Even his lies which have kept him comfortable and now keep him safe are at John's expense. He never wanted to be a good man but he's a bit tired of being a disappointment.]

John.... If I lied to you, what would you do?

[To say he's taken aback would be an understatement.]

...Where's this coming from?

[John said in a soft, whooshing breath, eyes soft but concern evident in his voice. He paused, considering the other man on the couch, before speaking again.]

I'd probably be put off. We might have a row. But then eventually... I don't know, you'd take off on one of your cases and I'd follow without a second thought and we'd just forget about it because that's just the way we are, isn't it? It's not as if you haven't lied to me before, and yet here we are.

[He smiles, just slightly, but even that alone is honest and unwavering.]

You usually have a reason you're not telling me the truth, even if I don't think it's a good reason.

[Then he twists that smile into something more of a wry, teasing snerk, pointing at the detective.]

Not that that's an invitation to lie, just so we're clear. I do like to be kept in the loop once in a while, you know.

[He smiles a little. Good, dependable John.]

Like an old married couple. Just as well you'll never leave. I'd probably just follow you around anyway and restraining orders only work as hard as the people enforcing them. Which is not nearly as hard as I do.

Bloody hell, I'd imagine. I've seen you when you're determined, that focus can be pretty terrifying. I'd like to remain out of those proverbial crosshairs, thank you very much.

[He's teasing. He's joking. He's lying. There's something that twists in his gut low and hot when Sherlock fixes that gaze on him and his attention is fully on John. It's terrifying because it takes his breath away.]

And. Uh. Yes. I'm not planning on leaving any time soon, so you don't need to worry about that. Dedication is as hard to break as addiction and you're pretty lucky you've got both to hold over me, you nutter.

Again, that isn't to say that I'll forgive and forget easily, so don't push your luck.

[He's smiling back. Surely Sherlock would notice the lack of denial about being a sort of married couple, but John will leave that small confession subtle and undiscussed.]

What're you on about, then? You thought I was just going to up and leave?

Not you, especially; no. Regarding that fact, you're the only person that really matters but I'm more or less to understand that that can be a lot of pressure on one person. There are things I cannot tell even you, though, John. Don't take it personally. It's not a lack of trust or failing in your part. It's because you matter. And as I am not the sole keeper of such secrets, it's a 'when' not an 'if' as to your eventual knowledge of them. Just forgive me as soon as is possible. The only time it seems I have a heart is when it's wounded in some way and I don't enjoy the ache.

[He closes his eyes, the fingers of his right hand tapping against his left breast.]

...Hearts tend to ache. Heavy burdens and all that.

[He licked his lips, watching the detective drum out a rhythm over the muscle in his chest they were discussing.]

Look, Sherlock... I can't exactly make promises without knowing what's going on but... I'll keep that in mind when the time comes.

[He reached out and pressed a pair of fingers over Sherlock's tapping hand, stilling it momentarily against the detective's chest.]

So... even if I know you don't lack a heart, I'm not out to prove it and I'm not looking to cause yours any more strain the need be. Okay?

[After a short, pointed look to impose his sincerity, the doctor eventually draws his hand back, clearing his throat.]

[Sherlock smiles a little before resuming his taps.]

You're a remarkable man, John Watson. I don't tell you near as much as you deserve. And to show my gratitude for your loyalty, I seem to constantly test its boundaries. Thank you for thus far not having any.

[His John is a very good man. And even if people do think Sherlock could try harder to be 'normal' and more thoughtful, his relationship with John is not an example of him trying harder but of John's unique tolerance. Still... he probably could try a little harder. Move a little slower and wait for a conscious to step forward before diving in feet first.

But how dull.]

[The compliment, then the gratitude, two things that he rarely heard individually from the detective suddenly in the same breath... John has to take a minute to process them, eventually shaking himself from the surprise. The doctor shifts his weight, a flush having settled over his ears and now creeping its way across his cheekbones.]

Not at all. You said it after that... battlefield area, right?

[John clears his throat, not lingering on the event, just Sherlock and his actions and his reassurances...]

We're past thank yous. I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to, so I'm hardly remarkable.

[Oh, foolish John. If it was so unremarkable a feat to stay with him, Sherlock wouldn't have just the one friend. He reaches out and pats whatever bit of him he can reach.]

Coffee. Black, two sugars.

Oh, you spoiled prat.

[John snorts, but it's obvious he's bemused by the predictable demand as he shoves at the detective's reaching hand childishly before turning and heading into the kitchen to make coffee. The change of topic makes it easy to ignore the flustering that had taken over him momentarily.]

A doctor of your years should know a thing or two about positive reinforcement, John. Hardly does to whinge on about when you are actively engaged in spoiling me. Please do help yourself while you're at it.

[He leans his head back, watching him upside down more or less. It won't do to be upset about things with John around. John will just try and fix or understand them and... well, he doesn't really care for him to right now. So best to just... pretend. He's good at that. He takes a few deep breaths and decides he's done with his self reflection for now. Now it's time to spend time with John.]

I've been living with you long enough to know when you're not going to change on my account.

[He goes about making the coffee, only noticing Sherlock watching him upside down halfway through the process. The doctor tilted his head, as if about to turn their vision parallel only deciding last minute that it would be silly to do so. Still, he chuckles to himself and continues to glance over, smile never quite leaving his face at Sherlock's pose.

He can't see the things that are upsetting the detective, and if he could, he would probably do as predicted by the detective; strive to make them right. But if Sherlock won't allow him to do that for now, spending time with the detective is the doctor's natural inclination anyways, so that won't be an issue at all.

He finishes making the coffee, bringing the detective his black-with-two-sugars, nursing his own unsweetened drink as he looks down at the tilted back face.]

Might want to sit properly before attempting to drink this, you know. It's rather hot.

[Sherlock rolls his eyes and does so as he accepts it, sipping appreciatively.]

So what interesting forays are you taking today?

Nothing interesting. Mostly chores I've been putting off...

[He took a sip of his coffee, frowning as a mental note suddenly made itself known.]

Oh, right... I've got to spend the time to clean my handgun at some point today, though. It's been a couple weeks since I last fired it...

[Sherlock opens his mouth to tell him he can just get a new gun from the closet and never bother with cleaning and maintenance but... well, there's something about the smell of gun cleaner and watching John disassemble his weapon that is sort of... highly fascinating to observe.]

Do we need to stop off by the vendors for anything specific or can you obtain all necessary substances and tools from the closet?

[The thing about John was that he never really lingered on that option. Cleaning his gun was such a habit from his army days that taking it out of his routine would be like telling him to not shave or wash his hair.

The doctor blinks at the use of 'we' by the detective, but the idea that Sherlock wanted to stay with him for this seemingly mundane task wasn't unwelcome.]

I still have extra solvent and tools from last time... I just need some new rags. You... want me to set up in here?

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