A/N So I suddenly remembered that John once said that he played the clarinet in school and I was inspired!!! Just something cute that came from a sleep deprived mind. Enjoy <3
Sherlock was bored again. He was always bored, but now nothing seemed to help. Not even playing his precious violin helped. So he decided he was going to learn a new instrument. He spent many hours at the music store, trying to choose which instrument he wanted to learn now. He finally settled on the clarinet, opting for the simplest of the woodwinds to start with. John was still at work when he got home, so he pulled out his new instrument and attempted to play.
It sounded terrible. Every note was squeaky and off key. It was difficult to push the notes out and Sherlock soon found himself getting frustrated.
"Your reed is crooked." He jumped at the sound of John's voice, almost dropping the offending item. He spun and glared at his flatmate.
"What?" Even if he was frustrated with how his little plan was going, he was not ready to give up quite yet.
"I said; your reed is crooked. That is why it is squeaking." He hung up his jacket and walked over to his flatmate, reaching his hands out for the instrument. Sherlock handed it over, slightly shocked at the fact that John knew about the clarinet.
"How do you know what is wrong with it?" He watched as John sat in his armchair and started fiddling with the silver and black pipe. It never failed to amaze Sherlock how efficiently John's fingers could be, moving about the instrument with practiced ease. He shook himself as his mind wandered to images of what else those fingers could do.
"I used to play the clarinet in school, the knowledge kind of sticks with you." He muttered as he adjusted the position and tightness of the reed, also checking the alignment of the body. It felt almost natural for him, even after all these years, and without thinking, he placed the mouthpiece against his bottom lip. He gently blew against the reed, feeling the satisfying vibration of the thin wood and hearing the perfect notes flowing from the instrument. His fingers started running through the scales, refreshing his mind on the fingering and sounds. He reached deep into the recesses of his mind and pulled forward an old song he learned all those years ago. His fingers found the notes with ease and he lost himself in the melody.
Sherlock watched on in awe as his friend played. He had never thought of John as a musical person, even though he always seemed to enjoy it when he played the violin. Seeing John sitting there, fingers gracefully covering holes and pressing keys as his body swayed along with the simple melody he was playing. Sherlock quietly made his way to his violin and readied the instrument before joining in, playing harmonizing notes softly. John hesitated, glancing up at Sherlock and smirking softly before resuming the song. They played together, both of them losing themselves to the sweet melody they played. Too soon, the song was finished and they let the final notes fade away, sitting in comfortable silence for a few moments. The sound of excited applause tore them from their thoughts. Mrs. Hudson was standing in the doorway, clapping and gushing about the song. John's cheeks burned at the complements and he handed Sherlock the instrument, standing and racing into the kitchen, hiding his face.
"I didn't know you could play John, how come you never said anything before this?" Mrs. Hudson followed John into the kitchen, babbling on about how wonderfully talented the Doctor was and how he should play more often. Soon enough, John managed to shoo the woman away and was left alone with Sherlock, who was still in awe about what just happened.
"So, are you going to keep trying?" John's voice cut through his thoughts. He sent his friend a questioning glance, trying to determine what he meant by that statement. "Are you going to keep trying to learn the clarinet? It's not hard once you get it figured out."
"I will if you teach me." The words were out before he could stop them. Sherlock hated being taught, that is why school had been so hard for him. Yet the thought of being taught by John gave Sherlock a sense of excitement that he couldn't quite place.
"Y-you want me to teach you?" John looked as though he may drop the mugs of tea he held in his hands. Sherlock could only nod. John scrunched his face up in that adorable way he does and handed Sherlock one of the mugs before settling down in his armchair.
"I don't know, teaching music is kind of, intimate isn't it?" He sounded unsure, hesitant. But there was a hint of playfulness as well. What was he doing?
"I suppose it could be." Sherlock moved to sit in his own chair, crossing his legs and taking a sip of the tea. It was perfect, as always.
"Sounds like something a significant other would do." There was definitely a cheeky tone to his voice now, though this time it was tinged with nervousness.
"Or a trained professional." Sherlock quipped, allowing a smirk to pull at his mouth. John leveled a glare at him, clearly not amused.
"Well I really don't think I would be comfortable teaching someone that I wasn't romantically involved with."
"Then let's become romantically involved." The words shocked both men. Sherlock hadn't intended to say that. He was planning on hinting and letting John take the conversation where he wanted. They sat in stunned silence for a while, both trying to process what just happened.
"So let me get this straight; you are asking me to become romantically involved with you, so that I can teach you how to correctly blow an instrument?" Sherlock choked on his tea. John laughed as Sherlock tried to compose himself. He nodded, his cheeks darkening. There was really no way to fix this. "I see. Well, I think I can accept that deal." John's cheeks were burning as brightly as Sherlock's. Sherlock grinned at the ridiculousness of the conversation.
"So, I guess that means that we are-"
"Dating? Yes, it appears we are. And I have the wonderful task of teaching you how to properly blow something." He winked, sending both men into a fit of giggles. They sat together for the rest of the afternoon, exchanging innuendos and discussing the logistics of music. Both of them were happier than they had ever been.
