more violin antics

[bitofafiction]

Characters: Sherry Holmes, whoever else
Format: prose
This log is: open
Location: White dorm and surrounding area
Summary: Sherry plays the violin. Obnoxiously. Again.

In all the time that Sherlock Holmes has been at this institution, not once has anyone caught him sleeping in his dorm room. He does it only when no one else is there. If that becomes impractical, he goes without or finds himself a nice quiet roof.

More and more often, however, he can be found sitting at the open window of White 1-B playing the violin. Once in a while it's a genuine violin solo, composed as such by someone who died before 1950, but the majority of his material is a little more recent. He seems determined to adapt the entire musical repertoire of the classic rock era to his chosen instrument. Pink Floyd is a particular favourite.

Comments

[monkeystail]

The girl suddenly standing in the door to the room was holding a pillow, potentially making her look younger than she is. There's also a tail swinging back and forth behind her.

"That's not music," Huashi said with a frown, the statement more like an accusation. And well, it kind of is. Wujing played a flute, and they'd passed a town once where the lady of the house that they got to stay in had played pretty music.

So when she'd heard the first thing resembling music since being brought here, Huashi had detoured from her mission of getting Kotarou and her new bedclothes.

This. Was not music. She was very offended.

[bitofafiction]

"Isn't it?" he asks serenely.

[monkeystail]

She gave the older boy a severe frown, and, in the face of that serenity, stomped a foot.

"No, it's not! Music doesn't sound like that!" Huashi scowled and rearranged the pillow in her grip, noting the bed he was closest to. Maybe she should steal his pillow for tricking her and making not-music.

She was almost annoyed that he smelled completely normal for a human, and that she couldn't accuse him of smelling bad.

"Stop it." She finally demanded.

[bitofafiction]

"No."

The bed he's closest to is the one not yet claimed; his own is just beyond that, and looks just as untouched.

"It is music, my music, and I will continue to play it."

[monkeystail]

"... Why?" Because in Huashi's mind, why would he want to continue to play music that wasn't music? She frowned severely at the offending violin.

"What is that, anyway." It wasn't exactly a question, but she didn't know what it was, either.

[bitofafiction]

"The instrument? A violin."

[monkeystail]

She had never heard of a 'violin', so she wasn't sure she wanted to admit it was an instrument.

Of course, maybe it was from... Where had they been travelling to, anyway? With an outraged mental gasp, Huashi realized that, too, had been taken. But at least it wasn't as horrible as some of the other things.

"Where is it from?" She was starting to get curious, but was still standing in the doorway. It wouldn't do to trust that man.

[warpwhatsir]

And here comes Hikaru, bag slung over his shoulder and looking a little less than happy with the world in general (but don't let that fool you, sometimes he's just deep in thought.) He stops, though, when he sees Sherlock in what is very clearly White 1-B. He blinks a few time, and then leans out the door to double check the dorm number.

Yup.

Huh.

[bitofafiction]

"Afternoon, Mr Sulu," he says, glancing up.

[warpwhatsir]

"Hi..." Hikaru checks the door one more time before walking into the dorm slowly, dumping his bag on what he assumes is his bed. Because, to be frank, suddenly he's not sure if this is his dorm. He's pretty sure?

"Um." He's grasping at straws here. "What music is that? I don't think I recognize it."

[bitofafiction]

"Pink Floyd, Learning to Fly. Released on the fourteenth of September, nineteen eighty-seven. It was not, I admit, designed for solo violin, but I am disinclined to let that stop me. Is something troubling you?"

[warpwhatsir]

"I don't believe I know them." He shrugs. It's to be expected. "Um. You didn't... transfer dorms or anything, did you?"

[bitofafiction]

"No. This is nominally my room, but I do not spend very much time here." Dryly: "As you may have noticed."

[defender]

The sound of Shoujou's shoes against the hard tile floors echo down the hallways, so anyone in White 1-B should not be surprised when Shoujou rounds the corner -- and then pauses, hovering politely in the doorway.

"Violin?"

[bitofafiction]

"Indeed, yes," he answers without looking up.

[defender]

"It doesn't sound like any piece I've heard," he says, mostly to himself. He checks the room sign - just to be sure - then shifts his gaze over to Sherlock once more.

"Um, I was told this was my dorm..."

(Ignoring, of course, that he was a student council member, and wasn't supposed to have a dorm -- but by now the denial had worn off, and Shoujou was forced to admit that he was now an ordinary student, with ordinary privileges.

And he would have to share a dorm.

God damn.)

"Is this yours, too?"

[bitofafiction]

"It is. I do not, I confess, spend very much time here."

Now he looks up. His scrutiny of the boy in the doorway is intense; he even stops playing for a moment. Wouldn't want to miss anything, not if this fellow is going to be living here.

[defender]

Oh.

It's difficult to be cheerful when the man is staring so hard. Shoujou walks into the room (why was he not a student council member, what was going on), tentatively approaching the bed closest to the doorway.

"Do you know which of the beds isn't taken yet, at least?" he asks.

[bitofafiction]

"That one." He points with the violin bow to the one closest to his seat. Apparently he is giving up on the music for now.

[imperceptible]

Unfortunately for Sherlock, Kevin wasn't exactly appreciative of his attempts at modern, classical music.

"You mind?" He demanded from where he sat on his bed, the exaclan manual laid out in front of him. He was barely a third through and the other wasn't helping matters. Nevermind that in Kevin's eyes, the only worthwhile music always included a guitar solo and a heavy bass.

[bitofafiction]

"There are more places to read in this school than there are places to play the violin," he points out.

[imperceptible]

"Are not." Kevin shot back, sitting a little bit straighter and glaring. This wasn't an excuse for him to stop reading the book, oh no.

[bitofafiction]

"I assure you that there are."

He closes his eyes and plays a long, quiet note.

[imperceptible]

For a moment, Kevin merely watched him slide the bow across the strings before swinging his legs off the bed in order to get a better look.

"Why do you play that anyway?"

[bitofafiction]

Sherlock does not yet open his eyes.

"This instrument or this music? In both cases, because I enjoy it."

The note ends. He pauses in his playing.