I am not lonely [Mystrade]

CHAPTER 133 : The concept of Art

"I'm sorry sir, the Gallery is closed after 6PM." a young guard stopped Mycroft, stretching his arm in the other man's way.
"Not for me." the auburn retorted, pulling out an enveloppe and handling it to the guard.
The man glanced at it for half a minute before taking his arm off the way and, apologizing greatly, introducing the official in.
Most of the lights were already out but the elder Holmes knew exactly where he was going and walking quickly through the corridors he joined the main exhibition space of the Gallery. There only, he let Alden down from his shoulders.
The little boy was greatly impressed by the venue, even more than by the painting, never having seen such a luxurious yet so big place and he was looking, agape, around him while his father was meeting with an elderly man who disappeared about a minute before every light of the gallery went on again.
"Come over here Aldy." the official called his son, a large smile spread on his face.
"Have you seen how big it is here ?" remarked the little boy as he took his father's hand.
"Yes, it's impressive, isn't it ?" nodded the man, making his way to one of the small room on the Trafalgar Square's side of the venue.
"When I grow up, my house is going to look just like that !" the toddler declared very seriously.
"Whatever you want sweetheart." the auburn smiled before stopping in front of a medium-sized canvas depicturing a bouquet. "Do you know what this is ?"
"Flowers ?" the little boy hesitated, taking a closer look at the painting.
"Yes, but what type of flowers ?" the elder Holmes chuckled.
"Yellow flowers ?" Alden tried again.
"Yes, and what else you know is yellow and look like a flower ?" Mycroft nodded, encouragingly.
"The sun ?" the boy cried out happily.
"Yes, that's why we call those flowers 'sunflowers' !" the official confirmed.
"It's pretty." the toddler smiled.
"It's Vincent Van Gogh who painted it. He was a Dutch Post-Impressionist painter who is among the most famous and influential figures in the history of Western art. In just over a decade he created about 2,100 artworks, including around 860 oil paintings, most of them in the last two years of his life. They include landscapes, still lives, portraits and self-portraits, and are characterised by bold colours and dramatic, impulsive and expressive brushwork that contributed to the foundations of modern art." The elder Holmes explained, maybe a little over enthusiast in his explanation, especially as Alden didn't knew anything about the Arts except what he had learnt in school.
The little boy was looking at him with question marks in his eyes and Mycroft understood that he had lost him with his explanation. He then sat down on the couch facing the painting and sat Alden on his lap.
"Van Gogh is one of the most famous painter out there because he've got a very peculiar, yet beautiful, way of painting. You see the painting here on the side ? You can see the big brushwork ?" he explained again, pointing at the painting of a Wheatfield, with Cypresses. "He uses these big brushwork and the brilliant colours to define his style and it had a huge influence on a lot of painters that came after him."
"But Daddy, why sunflowers ? It's not really interesting as a subject no ?" the little boy wondered.
"You see Alden, Van Gogh was very good mate with a man called Pul Gauguin, another painter, and he had invited him to come and stay for a while in his home but before Gauguin arrived, Van Gogh wanted to make sure he was going to be impressed so he decided to decorate Gauguin's room with a series of painting showing his technical skills and then chose to paint sunflowers. He said to his brother Theo that he was carrying out a plan to have a dozen or so hanging in his guest room." the auburn explained.
"And have it worked, was Gauguin happy ?" the toddler asked again.
"Well, he was really impressed and even bought some of it but him and Van Gogh get in a fight one with another only a couple of months after Gauguin arrived at the house and Van Gogh cut a piece of his ear so Gauguin left. But if we talk only about the sunflowers, then yes, Gauguin was happy." the elder Holmes replied, uneasily.
"He cut his own ear ?" retorted the little boy, half-curious, half-disgusted.
"Yes, he was a genius artist, but he wasn't really mentally sane and he sometime did quite extreme things." nodded the auburn. "Come on, let's go and have a look at something else."
He directed his son to another room, few meters away and sat him on a couch in front of a quite big painting depicturing two ships. He let him admire the artwork for a few minutes before sitting beside the boy and starting his explanation.
"This is a work by Joseph Mallord William Turner, one of the most genial painters Britain ever had. It's depicturing the 98-gun ship 'Temeraire', which played a very important part in the battle of Trafalgar in 1805, after she had been decommissioned and was towed to be broken up. It also shows a steam-powered tug that represent the new generation opposing to the old one." the official commented, pointing out the elements he was talking about.
"I've already seen it ! It's in this film Papa watched yesterday !" Alden exclaimed, happy to know something about the painting.
"It's in James Bond ?" wondered his father, surprised.
"Yes ! In Skyfall. Even that James called it 'Two bloody ships' !" the boy nodded, excited.
"Well, at least those film held something cultural in them. They aren't completely vain ..." the elder Holmes chuckled. "Alright, that's enough for today, what about we go and see if Papa is already back from work ?"

As Mycroft stepped outside from the black car that had brought them back home, he could already guess that his partner was in the house, and probably in a very good mood. The chocked sound of the policeman's guitar was easy to hear despite the babbling of the little boy by his side. A grin on his face and a heavy warmth growing in his chest, the auburn pushed the door and suddenly, the guitar stopped playing, disturbed by the entrance of the two inhabitants.
It quickly resumed, as soon as the player understood who had intruded the place and the official quietly made his way to the living room where he could see the back of his lover, bent over the instrument.
"I'm just a poor boy / Though my story's seldom told, / I have squandered my resistance / For a pocketful of mumbles, / Such are promises / And lies and jest / Still, a man hears what he wants to hear / And disregard the rest. / When I left my home / And my family, / I was no more than a boy / In the company of strangers / In the quiet of a railway station, / Running, scared / Lying low / Seeking out the poorer quarters / Where the ragged people go, / Looking for the places / Only they would know. / Lie-La-Lieee ..." the detective started singing as the other man stepped a foot in the room and approached from him. "Asking only for workmans' wages / I come looking for a job, / But I get no offers. / Just a come-on from the whores / On Seventh Avenue / I do declare, / There were times when I was so lonesome / I took some comfort there. / Lie-La-Lieee ... / Then I'm laying out my winter clothes / And wishing I was gone / Going home / Where the New York City winters / Aren't bleeding me, / Leading me / Going home. / In the clearing stands a boxer / And a fighter by his trade / And he carries the reminders / Of every glove that laid him down / Or cut him till he cried out / In his anger and his shame, / 'I am leaving, I am leaving' / But the fighter still remains."
Without a word, the official directed himself toward the piano standing in a corner of the room and opened it. He sat in front of the keyboard and ran his fingers over it a couple of times. He then started playing a tune Greg had never heard before. The inspector put the guitar aside and stood up, gently walking toward his partner and resting his hands over the younger man's shoulder, waiting for what was still to come.
"Se sentir quelque peu romain / Mais au temps de la decadence, / Gratter sa mémoire à deux mains / Ne plus parler qu'à son silence / Et / Ne plus vouloir se faire aimer / Pour cause de trops peu d'importance / Être déséspéré / Mais avec élégance. /Sentir la pente plus glissante / Qu'au temps ou le corps était mince / Lire dans les yeux des ravissantes, / Que cinquante ans c'est la province / ET / Bruler sa jeunesse mourante / Mais faire celui qui s'en dispense / Etre déséspéré / Mais avec élégance." the elder Holmes sang, voice deep and rough. "Sortir pour trverser des bars / Ou l'on est chaque fois le plus vieux. / Y eclabousser de pourboires / Quelques barmans silencieux / Et / Grignoter des banalités / Avec des vielles en puissance. / Etre déséspéré / Mais avec élégance. / Savoir qu'on à toujours eu peur / Savoir son poid de lacheté / Pouvoir se passer de bonheur / Savoir ne plus se pardonner / Et / N'avoir plus grand chose a rêver / Mais écouter son coeur qui danse / Être déséspéré / Mais avec espérance."
All absorbed by what the official was playing they hadn't heard Alden entering the room and only noticed him when he started clapping furiously as his father finished his song. They both turned their head to face the little boy, sat in one of the couches, a large smile on his face.
"What does it mean ?" the child wondered, speaking about the song's lyrics.
"Well, it's more or less about a man ageing and understanding that he isn't a young man anymore and that other people aren't interested in him anymore. He is a little depress about that but he tries to keep a brave face in hope that it will hide the fact he is ageing." the auburn explained as simply as he could.
"That's sad ..." Alden remarked, making both his father laugh.
"You know your father loves to be a little melodramatic when he can." Gregory chuckled before grabbing his son by the ribs and lifting him to his shoulders. "Now let's go and have a bath, what do you say about that ?"

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A very happy birthday to my half-sister(ish) ❤️ hope you are having a good day dear