Hide and Seek

Sherlock was "playing" his violin.

John's flatmate was a gifted musician but this was the playing inspired by lethargy. Notes plucked at random, or the same notes produced continuously by the scraping of the bow. The pizzicato was pleasant enough but the rhythm of the bowing closely matched the throbbing in John's brain.

The violin had to go.

John hid the instrument in the laundry basket. Sherlock retrieved it without comment.

John secreted the violin behind the hoover. Sherlock looked at his empty case. Looked at John. And smiling, declared he had a sudden urge to do the vacuuming.

John wrapped the instrument in brown paper, addressed it to Australia and left it in Mrs Hudson's flat. When he got back with the shopping, Sherlock was standing in the middle of the sitting room holding the violin. "The post came," he smirked.

John put down the bags.

"You really ought to stop this," said Sherlock.

"Is that right?" grinned John.

"You dislike the noise," said Sherlock, "but you have respect for my belongings. You wouldn't remove a valuable instrument from 221 altogether. There are only a limited number of hiding places. And I'm Sherlock Holmes."

He smugly put the violin back in its case. "I'd buy a set of earplugs. You really don't have any other option."

John hid Sherlock's bow.