Moriarty's Musician

Chapter 3: It's Complicated, Part 1

He smiled at her as Annabelle recited her recent lesson word for word. She knew he was pleased with how quickly she remembered even the smallest of details. He nodded, smiled some more and kissed her forehead. She liked making him happy and when he handed her the violin, she knew she had done well. It was the most beautiful violin and when it touched her cheek she played the same familiar concerto for him. She closed her eyes as the music permeated her soul.

A honking horn jolted Annabelle from her sleep. She pulled the blanket tighter around her neck and tried to find her dream again, but the light streaming through the curtains made that impossible.

Yawning, Annabelle sat up and the realization of what had transpired the night before hit her as she looked around the sitting room. The nightmare... Sherlock... She pushed away the blanket and got up from the sofa. Walking over to her phonograph she picked up the record of Bach's Violin Concerto, the very one Sherlock had chosen to play during the night. It had been so long since she had heard the piece. It was the very one she had played for the smiling man in her dream.

And Sherlock... what a bizarre night. Never would she have imagined he could be so, well, human. She marveled at how well she had slept considering that awful nightmare.

Annabelle smiled remembering the way it felt to have him sitting beside her, listening to the music she loved. She wasn't sure but she thought she felt a kindred soul in him. If they could only stop fighting, maybe...

More honking sounds came from outside. Annabelle put the record back in its sleeve and walked to the window. As she pulled back the curtains, she could see the window was slightly open. She couldn't remember leaving it that way, especially before going to bed. She lifted her arms to pull the pane down and secure the latch, but she stopped suddenly as her breath caught in her throat.

A familiar figure in a meticulous suit and overcoat, leaned casually against the tree that stood across the street. His arms were folded but when she caught his eyes, he grinned at her and waved. Annabelle slammed the window pane down, secured the stubborn latch and put the curtains back in place.

She closed her eyes as she leaned against the wall for support. Why was Moriarty here? What now? Why wouldn't he leave her alone? She had to think. She couldn't let him ruin her life. Think! There must be something he wanted from her, but what?

Annabelle turned back to the window and moved the curtain a tad so she could look out again. Only the old tree stood in view. Moriarty was gone. Taking a deep breath, determined he was not going to frighten her, she got ready to leave.

~~~~~~~

Grabbing her bag and cell, Annabelle thought about Nicholas and she chastised herself again for not accepting his cell number when he had offered it a dozen times. She had gone to his home at Bletchley Estates every day since that horrible night. But she was told he was not available to see her.

She wondered if Sherlock would find out for her if Nicholas was alright. All she could do was ask.

~~~~~~~~

Annabelle knocked on 221B and waited. She shifted the box to her other arm as she knocked again. It was then that she heard, "Go away," from behind the door. Good, he was in.

Annabelle tried the knob and the unlocked door easily opened for her. She saw Sherlock bent over his microscope, not even looking up at the squeak the floorboards made as she entered. She walked over to Sherlock and waited. Patiently, she stood there until he slowly lifted his head.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed. "It appears, Ms. Watson, you have lost your way. Your apartment is below mine in case you've forgotten, so I suggest you take yourself there post haste."