Moriarty's Musician

Knowledge Is Power, Part 6

"You want it that badly, do you?" Nicholas leaned close, his breath prickling Annabelle's face. "Play it, and I'll give it to you."

She stared into his eyes, biting the insides of her cheek. He would smash it, she knew that. He would do anything to see her completely broken.

Every muscle in Annabelle's body ached, but it was nothing compared to the agony in her hand as she tried to bend her fingers at her side.

Nicholas smiled at the look on her face and brought his eyes to the violin as he studied it. "Have it your way. I won't have to get more kindling for the fire then."

Annabelle's lips tightened. "Give it to me."

He handed the violin to her with a mocking flourish and sat down, the smirk extending across his face as he watched her from his chair. "Get on with it. I haven't got all day."

Annabelle pulled down the bandages and tried to make a fist, but the pain engulfing her hand made a whimper fall from her lips. How could she play?

"Play it."

She stared at him and began removing the rest of the bandage. She tried not to look at the damage to her hand as she rested her eyes on the back wall.

"Play it, Annabelle, or I'll burn it like that toy soldier."

She took a deep breath and picked up the violin. And the moment she set the violin under her chin, she heard her father's voice in her mind. "You're the spider. You're not the prey, but the predator." She swallowed as she picked up the bow. "You have the power. Watch, wait, devour."

Annabelle set her fingers over the strings of the violin and closed her eyes. She was suddenly in a large auditorium, the entire room was hushed though every seat was filled. She held the bow lightly, but her thumb that supported the violin's neck drove a painful spasm down her arm. Annabelle cleared her throat... concentrate.

There was stirring in the auditorium, she could hear them whispering. It was the delay. It was taking her longer than it should be to play. Had she forgotten the music? More whispering, then snickering.

She flexed her fingers, spreading them over the neck of the violin. Her fingers were stiff, but the strings under her fingertips were... soothing. She ran the pads of her fingers back and forth over the strings. It felt... good. Really good.

And then she heard a chuckle, while a few more voices joined in. Annabelle gritted her teeth and lifted the bow. It belonged there across the strings, and her arm felt lighter, bent as it was in that position that felt so comfortable, so natural.

Annabelle pulled the horse-hair of the bow across the strings, and her fingers moved. Something awakened in her, something ethereal, ecstatic. The music bore the brunt of the pain in her hand, and her fingers began their dance. Bach's Violin Concerto started lifting into the air as Annabelle glided with her partner.

And when her mind's eyes settled over the audience, she could see their faces. They weren't laughing anymore. The audience sat stone-faced as they listened intently to the music resonating from her fingers.

She kept playing. With each pull of the bow, her fingers became lighter over the strings. The violin was one with her cheek. It's vibration triggering something haunting inside her as she kept her eyes glued on the audience. The blur of faces became more clear. Their features materialized to reveal the secrets that had been schooled into her mind.

She saw the Byrons and Lord Jansen staring at her from their seats, she saw members of Parliament, and heads of state, and the Royal family. She saw celebrities, news personalities, and billionaires, their faces frowning as they levelled their gaze on her. And right there in the back row, Sherlock sat with her Uncle John and Aunt Mary.

Annabelle's breath hitched, but she kept playing as the flood surged from the vault of her mind. The faces watching from their seats became angry and terrified and miserable.

Everything her father had taught her, every secret, every sin, began revolving and unfolding in her mind as her eyes scanned each face. And when she had finished playing, her eyes fell on the back of the auditorium, and Charles Augustus Magnussen smiled, nodding at her.

Annabelle lowered the violin from her shoulder and planted her eyes on Nicholas, her expression cold.

But Nicholas didn't move except to blink at what he'd just heard. "How did you...?" he shook his head, the shock evident on his face. "You dislocated your thumb. How did you play like that?"

Annabelle held the violin lovingly against her chest. "I played it, so the violin belongs to me now. Your wedding present... Nicky," she said, her eyes challenging as a new smile formed on her face.

She remembered... everything.

~*~*~*~*

I have a deadline now, my friends. I'm working away to get our story here finished in time for the Wattys. I'd be grateful if you gave me a vote, and a comment too would be amazing. I wouldn't have continued this story if it hadn't been for you. I can't tell you how much I appreciate you.

Moriarty's coming up next! <3