John dragged himself upstairs after a long day at the surgery; just many cases of colds, flu and chest infections, basically a dull day in Sherlock's words.

"Sherlock? Are you home?" He calls out as he opens the door to 221B. He found a note on his armchair, "Sorry, Molly called. New body parts have arrived should be back at dinner. I missed you today." John smiled at the last few words. He'd recently discovered his flat mate's heart, resulting in the both of them falling madly in love with each other. John took of his coat, draped it over the back of a chair in the kitchen and started to boil the kettle for tea. With his tea, he returned to the lounge and settled into his armchair. John spotted something on the sofa, Sherlock's violin. It's beautifully crafted, but not as beautiful as how Sherlock plays it. Ten years ago, John wanted to play the violin. He started, but never succeeded. When he joined the army as a doctor, he left his violin behind, gathering dust until Harry decided to sell it.

"I wonder whether I could play it now, after all these years…" He picked up the violin, and ran his fingers over the varnished surface of the violin. He picked up the bow carefully and placed the violin in the right spot. John started to play his favorite tune, hitting a few notes off, but he continued. He continued to play, forgetting about everything and everyone, his eyes shut as he became part of the music, not caring about those occasional flat notes. He was that engrossed in the music he didn't hear the door open, or someone walk up the stairs cautiously. As the piece came to end, it was then that John opened his eyes to see Sherlock leaning against the door, his arms folded across his chest with a smile on his face.

John wasn't sure how long he had been listening, but he knew that Sherlock had been there long enough. John went to hand him the violin, but Sherlock shook his head and gestured John to play once more. John placed the violin back in the crook of his neck and began to play once more, shutting his eyes as he tried to picture the sheet music to the last piece he'd ever played on the violin all those years ago. Sherlock gently moved behind John and placed his hands on top of John's, and corrected the wrong notes whilst John was playing. John smiled as the piece started to come to life as his beautifully tall lover taught him how to play the violin properly. Slowly, Sherlock tightened his grip on John's hand and started to play one of his pieces, whilst John was still holding the violin. As Sherlock played, he kissed the top of John's head, and continued to play. As the piece reached its climax, Sherlock started to move John with the violin, as if they had both become the violin. As the piece neared the end, Sherlock let John take over as he started to caress John. John whispered whilst the last note hovered in the air.

"You really are a beautiful violinist. You showed me how to play, and everything you feel whilst you play. Thank you." He placed the violin gently into its case lined with velvet. Sherlock hugged him from behind and gently kissed the faint red mark that the violin had left on John's neck.

"Remind me to buy you a violin; we can't let your talent go to waste."

A few months, and a lot of practicing, later and Mrs Hudson was standing in the hallway listening to the young lovers play a romantic duet together with the violins, and she smiled to herself as she entered her flat.