A little night music
Author's note: So, it's New Years Eva and I'm trying to publish all my completed fanfics from the year I didn't have the courage to publish earlier. For my fiftieth fanfic, I decided to do Something a little special, it been the fiftieth fanfic and all. What better way to celebrate fifty than publishing my first fanfic for a new fandom? Besides, I've been completely in love with Sherlock (the show and the character both) since the day before Thanksgiving. It's high time.
This was written a few weeks back after I played in a concert with the last piece being the Radetzky march. Afterwards, the idea for this fanfic popped into my head after the piece stayed on repeat in my head for quite a long time into the night. I hope you all enjoy it, and I apologize in advance for any spelling errors, grammar errors, or Americanisms. Not to mention the OOC-ness which I always fear. Please review if you encounter any of these problems, and I will do my best to remedy them.
It was three in the morning at 221B Baker Street, and John Watson was suddenly jolted awake.
For once, he'd actually gotten a chance at a good night's sleep. There had been no nightmares, no danger nights, and no need to go chasing around London at all hours because of some case or other. No, he'd finally gotten a chance to sleep, even to have a rather pleasant dream.
And of course, tonight of all nights had to be the time that he was awoken at three in the morning by…military music?
John contemplated this revelation for a moment. At first, when he'd woken up, he hadn't realized what had disturbed him. Now, however, he definitely realized that it was in fact some sort of military march being played somewhere nearby. If it weren't three in the morning, and John wasn't reasonably frustrated that he'd been disturbed the one time he could actually sleep undisturbed, he'd think it was pretty catchy. Upbeat, cheery, and pretty quick. It must've been hard to play on the violin, though, judging from all those notes-
Wait a sec. Violin?
John's sleepy mind suddenly became fully alert, and he suddenly realized exactly why he had been woken up. Sighing in frustration, he pulled himself out of bed and crept down the stairs.
As he expected, Sherlock was in the living room with his violin. Although he was partially turned towards the window, John could clearly see his expression of intense concentration. His eyes were shut tightly, but his fingers still danced across the strings as though they had lives of their own. In the meantime, his bow was moving at lightning speed to keep up with the fingers. It was a fascinating spectacle to keep up with a beautiful piece, but it was also three in the goddamn morning. Meaning John did not have time for watching his flatmate play an intense (not to mention thunderously loud and now somewhat repetitive) military march.
"Sherlock, what the hell are you doing?" John had to yell to be heard over the now-waltz like (but still thunderously loud) music.
"Obvious, John," Sherlock stopped playing and turned to look at his flatmate. "I am playing Johann Strauss Sr.'s Radetzky March on my violin."
John sighed again, willing himself to calm down. Obviously, Sherlock did not get it. Again.
"At three in morning, Sherlock! People are trying to sleep!" he pointed out, frustration seeping into his voice.
"Well, perhaps I am trying to sleep as well," Sherlock replied pointedly.
"Playing the whatever-it-is-"
"Radetzky," Sherlock cut in.
"Right- The Radetzky March at three in the morning is not an appropriate way to get to sleep! Other people might be sleeping already, and if I'm correct, you woke up half the block with that military march just now. Besides, that's hardly calming music."
"I needed some form of distraction, and this music serves that purpose better than calming music. It's been frightfully boring lately," Sherlock shot back.
"Well, perhaps you could find something a little quieter to distract yourself with."
"You said 'cold turkey', remember?"
John shook his head. Not that again. The little problem of getting Sherlock to sleep without waking up the other half of the block or allowing him to indulge in some of his less savory habits was proving to be quite a challenge.
"Perhaps you could just lie down and actually try to sleep," John suggested, only partly kidding.
"Boring," Sherlock dismissed his friend's suggestion.
John facepalmed mentally. It was times like this which made him wonder why the hell he was friends with Sherlock Holmes.
What did you think? Should I write more for this wonderful fandom? Please review with your thoughts, and Happy New Year!