180: Panacea: Sherlock Holmes (ACD)
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vocab_drabblesTitle First Love
Fandom: Sherlock Homles (ACD)
Rating: Gen
Length: 200
Prompt: 180: panacea
Summary: Holmes reflecs on his violin on the journey from London to Sussex.
Sherlock Holmes had only two items with him on the train to Sussex. The rest of his belongings, expertly ensconced in crates and trunks, were making their way to the cottage by other means.
The first item was a traveling case with the essentials for a few days just in case the other means were slower than anticipated.
The second was a violin case.
His Stradivarius.
At various times during the journey, it was by his feet, behind his heels, over his head, beside him, and even in his lap.
It was faithful companion. It was panacea. It was first love. It was last resort.
It had been a friend when he had none, not even himself. It had been a passion before chemistry, a vocation before problem solving. It had been vice before tobacco, before danger, before cocaine.
It had been, before almost everything.
Holmes had decided to give up Baker Street and London for a cottage in the country and bees. He had given up detective work. Even Watson was beyond the keen.
But this, he touched it often to reassure himself as the train rumbled along, would remain.
It was music. It was joy.
It was him.
Fandom: Sherlock Homles (ACD)
Rating: Gen
Length: 200
Prompt: 180: panacea
Summary: Holmes reflecs on his violin on the journey from London to Sussex.
Sherlock Holmes had only two items with him on the train to Sussex. The rest of his belongings, expertly ensconced in crates and trunks, were making their way to the cottage by other means.
The first item was a traveling case with the essentials for a few days just in case the other means were slower than anticipated.
The second was a violin case.
His Stradivarius.
At various times during the journey, it was by his feet, behind his heels, over his head, beside him, and even in his lap.
It was faithful companion. It was panacea. It was first love. It was last resort.
It had been a friend when he had none, not even himself. It had been a passion before chemistry, a vocation before problem solving. It had been vice before tobacco, before danger, before cocaine.
It had been, before almost everything.
Holmes had decided to give up Baker Street and London for a cottage in the country and bees. He had given up detective work. Even Watson was beyond the keen.
But this, he touched it often to reassure himself as the train rumbled along, would remain.
It was music. It was joy.
It was him.
