221B

Chapter 10 - A Scandal in Belgravia

I wake up in the morning and hear a violin playing from somewhere nearby. The tune is incredibly sad, and I throw on an oversized sweatshirt over my shirt and sweatpants. I walk out into the living room and see that playing the sad tune with a violin is Sherlock, who stands at the window, his back to the rest of the living room. John is standing near the doorway and I hear him heave a sigh as he looks at Sherlock. Mrs. Hudson walks to the table and picks up some plates, looking at John as if to make him realize Sherlock hasn’t touched his food. She looks at me.

“Ooh! Kate, you’re finally up!” She says. John turns to face me.

“How long has he been doing that?” I ask him.

“A while.”

“Lovely tune, Sherlock. Haven’t heard that one before.” Mrs. Hudson comments when Sherlock pauses momentarily to make a notation on the music beside him. She looks at me again. “Kate, would you like some breakfast?”

“No, thanks. Not hungry.”

“When are you ever.” Mrs. Hudson mumbles.

“You composing?” John speaks up to Sherlock.

“Helps me think.” He says, turning back to the window, lifting the violin. He begins to play the same song again.

“What are you thinking about?” John asks.

Sherlock suddenly spins round, putting the violin down. He points at John’s laptop.

“The counter on your blog is still stuck at 1,895.”

“Yeah, it’s faulty.” John says. “Can’t seem to fix it.”

“Faulty-or you’ve been hacked and it’s a message.” Sherlock says, pulling out Irene’s phone.

“Hmm?” John asks as Sherlock types something into the phone. It beeps a kind of warning and I know he tried to put 1895 in as the passcode and that it was wrong.

“Just faulty.” He says, then turns away and picks up the violin again.

“Right.” John says. “Well, I’m going out for a bit.” He turns towards me. “Kate, you coming?”

“Should I?”

He nods.

“Okay.” I say. I speak up. “Sherlock, John and I are going to go out for a little.”

Sherlock doesn’t reply, and I turn to John. “I’ll be out in a little bit.” He nods, and I turn and go back into my room to change quickly into jeans and a long sleeved shirt. A few minutes later I come back out and walk into the living room. “Alright, ready?” I ask him. John turns to me.

“Yeah. Hold on a sec.” He walks into the kitchen and I follow him. We stop in front of Mrs. Hudson. “Listen, has he ever had any kind of…” John asks her quietly. He pauses to sigh. “Girlfriend, boyfriend, a relationship, ever?”

“I don’t know.” She replies.

“How can not know?” He asks, sighing in exasperation.

“He’s Sherlock. How will we ever know what goes on in that funny old head?”

John smiles sadly. “Right. See ya.” He looks at me. “Ready?”

I nod. He leaves the kitchen and I walk into the living room, grabbing my coat off the hook. I stop a moment and look at Sherlock as he still stands in front of the window, playing the same sad tune on the violin. I shrug the coat on and leave the room, meeting John at the top of the stairs.

We walk down together, and I ask John quietly, “Why did you want me to come?”’

“Could use some company.” He says. “Someone who’s not grieving.”