Sherlock Holmes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
workaphilic) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
paradisa2012-08-20 08:35 pm
workaphilic) wrote in paradisa2012-08-20 08:35 pm
Entry tags:
022 || written/dictated;
[ Private ]
[He plays.
A month is far too long to go without music. Couldn't stand to go any longer; his violin is the only thing from the flat he'd bothered to retrieve. He could always use the distraction. The solace.
Sometimes, if he plays well and enough, everything goes quiet. For a moment, there's nothing but the violin and the sound and the backs of his eyelids. Sublimation of thought into music, anxiety into vibrato, frustration into full lows.
(What time is it? Can't tell. Neglected to buy a clock.
The line between late and early is too thin to matter.)
Every so often the music pauses, notes appearing on the page in sequence. He repeats bars from the beginning, dragging his thoughts in order, pressing and shaping them into something worth using.
Then, abruptly, it stops. The strings squeal from the twist of the bow being removed.
He scratches out everything from the beginning.]
No. No, no, no, that isn't right.
[He goes silent. A moment later, there's a rustle and the pen returns, scratching roughly underneath the string of notes.]
20 Aug., 2 m 4 d
[And the journal shuts.]
----
[ Those Attending the Expedition to Lastlook ]
[It's hours later before he opens it again, purpose clear in mind. He writes.]
Hope it goes without saying that you keep the rest of us apprised.
Specifically, me. I've seen the summaries of previous expeditions made for the castle at large and the organisation is shoddy at best. If there was someone willing to provide more careful reports, it wouldn't go unappreciated.
SH
----
[Filter finished, he hovers, thinking, and nervous energy is being released via rapping his pen on the page. Over and over and over.
Taptaptaptaptaptaptap.]
It's been very agreeable, the castle, these past few months. [For once, he doesn't sound like he's complaining. In fact, he sounds distracted, if the insistent tapping of his pen is anything to go by.] Thought more of you might be concerned.
So. Enjoying the reprieve while you have it, or has the pattern finally gotten old?
[He plays.
A month is far too long to go without music. Couldn't stand to go any longer; his violin is the only thing from the flat he'd bothered to retrieve. He could always use the distraction. The solace.
Sometimes, if he plays well and enough, everything goes quiet. For a moment, there's nothing but the violin and the sound and the backs of his eyelids. Sublimation of thought into music, anxiety into vibrato, frustration into full lows.
(What time is it? Can't tell. Neglected to buy a clock.
The line between late and early is too thin to matter.)
Every so often the music pauses, notes appearing on the page in sequence. He repeats bars from the beginning, dragging his thoughts in order, pressing and shaping them into something worth using.
Then, abruptly, it stops. The strings squeal from the twist of the bow being removed.
He scratches out everything from the beginning.]
No. No, no, no, that isn't right.
[He goes silent. A moment later, there's a rustle and the pen returns, scratching roughly underneath the string of notes.]
20 Aug., 2 m 4 d
[And the journal shuts.]
----
[ Those Attending the Expedition to Lastlook ]
[It's hours later before he opens it again, purpose clear in mind. He writes.]
Hope it goes without saying that you keep the rest of us apprised.
Specifically, me. I've seen the summaries of previous expeditions made for the castle at large and the organisation is shoddy at best. If there was someone willing to provide more careful reports, it wouldn't go unappreciated.
SH
----
[Filter finished, he hovers, thinking, and nervous energy is being released via rapping his pen on the page. Over and over and over.
Taptaptaptaptaptaptap.]
It's been very agreeable, the castle, these past few months. [For once, he doesn't sound like he's complaining. In fact, he sounds distracted, if the insistent tapping of his pen is anything to go by.] Thought more of you might be concerned.
So. Enjoying the reprieve while you have it, or has the pattern finally gotten old?
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Am I wrong?
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Tell me, then, Mr. Walker, how do you prepare?
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I train.
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