With a little 'hard work, and with the indispensable help of Carla (Narcissa 63) , I can finally post a shottina and dedicate it to Letizia (Hikaru Ryu) .
Ultimately, it is thanks to her that I started reading fanfiction outside of Harry Potter. How could I not dedicate the first to write about Sherlock Holmes? And just for the record, this is the fanfiction of the previous post. Yeah, that was born in Pisa on the way to mass.
At this point, I can only hope she likes it ^ _ ^
Oh, and of course I say thanks to Carla taaaanti: betaggio a super fast and efficient ** (and very colorful XD)
The story I have published also on ' EFP and F & B . It is not hard to find .. The nick is there too ^ ^ SweetKaaos
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes ;
Pairing: Sherlock Holmes / John Watson;
Rating: G / Green;
Genre: Introspective, Romance;
For me it's impossible not to notice the absence of the violin, in our living room. A few days ago, you came to me and you have announced, with your usual friendly way of doing:
"My dear Holmes, you can not persist in playing with a broken string. For more of your bow is worn and barely horsehair will remain immobilized "Then remove gently from your hands, you have continued:
" You'll have to do without it for a while '. I carry it with me "
Suddenly I felt an unpleasant sensation, like a cold hand to his throat stringesse me cruelly, just when my fingers were losing, against their will, the power tool ...
distract gaze from the table to escape this nagging memory, and I am still here, alone, while the absence of the violin destroys the beauty of the evening and kills my serenity, invites you to fall back into destructive habit that you could almost make me leave. Now, however, the polished morocco case is once again acquiring a strong attraction for my spirit felt
Forgive me, my thoughtful Watson, but at this point I'll give you another sorrow. Tomorrow I'll regret it, I'm sure, but right now I do not think being able to help myself. I just have to find a new hiding place sure, that your love for me has brought you to conceal the much deprecated object. Your thoughtful attempts to keep me away from my flaw tear me a smile, as yet another attack on the message box I've just discovered.
"Do not do it"
guard in wooden case even this tiny card. I apologize again, my faithful Watson, but you still disobey. You left without telling me where you were going and I hope that you decide to go home right now, while I prepare the syringe and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt. However, the sound of footsteps on the stairs caught my attention immediately after the drawing-room door opens and, wincing, I see you standing in the doorway with his case in his hands. Your expression suddenly darkens, noticing what I'm doing.
"Holmes ..."
I know what you think. I know you well: you feel betrayed after yet another promise. Without taking my eyes from yours, I put the syringe in the box, before I get up and go that extra mile.
"Try again. It was all too easy to find, "he says with a quiet voice.
I am my old care - the more painful and damaging my health - and in the meantime I pulled the violin case from her fingers. Without looking, I approach and step over the fireplace. There is no other, we are just you and me. While supporting the instrument on the table I hear your footsteps on the floor, the creaking axle cracked near the library, and finally plume caused by the sinking of your body in the chair. I smile secretly.
"You want something that sounds?" I ask calmly.
In the evenings preceding the violin was not present among us, and our talk had become so thin by also oppress me, often shy away from sharing my thoughts. In past days the silence had been the constant, most of all had disturbed my mind. But now the violin is back, and feel the cold hand loosen its grip around my neck while I position the instrument and cascading strings that have to be replaced.
"Like every morning, Holmes. I do not expect another "shadow serene.
I know I've already forgiven ... you have a big heart, my irreplaceable Watson, a man strong enough to withstand stubborn and uncooperative as I am. I put the instrument on his shoulder and starts to execute the first melody that comes to my mind, allowing her to guide my fingers. More on that technique, I prefer to focus my attention on you and the feelings that music can give me, mixing, and living each note until the end. Every night I look this magical moment, only to see the birth of that special smile on your lips - that I'm sure you realize the show - while sound only for you. Finally, the fingers of ice that takes my breath away have vanished altogether, leaving just a vague memory of their past presence.
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