His Favorite Melody

Pull the Thread

It had been three days, and Melody simply couldn't take it anymore. They had gone from being happy and comfortable to acting like complete strangers. Sherlock was composing sad melodies, and she wasn't sure whether it was for her or that woman.

Finally,she decided to take action. The fourth morning of radio silence, she stormed into 221B with all the courage she had in her, and knocked on his bedroom door.

"Go away, John, I'm not interested in eating." His muffled voice came through.

"Not John." She announced. The violin music came to a sudden halt, and the door flung open.

"Melody." He said, his expression surprised but hopeful.

"We need to talk."

"I agree. Come in, please." He said, stepping aside so she could enter the room.

She sat on the bed and took a deep breath as he sat beside her.

"I know you have a lot to say, but may I say something first?" Sherlock asked.

Melody nodded, looking up at him.

"I understand you're upset with me. Rightfully so. But I need you to know that I'm not upset that Irene Adler is dead. Quite the opposite, really. I'm relieved that she will not be a thorn in our sides any longer. I'm only distressed because this case has more to it, and her death means that I have no way of solving it. I needed more information to figure out where the thread leads, and now the thread has been cut." He explained.

"And when I saw how upset you were on Christmas, I decided not to approach you because I feared I would only upset you further. But the past three days have been absolutely miserable. I've taken to composing sad pieces to help cope with your absence. It's not helping." He admit.

Melody looked at him for a moment before sighing and running her hands down her face.

"Sherlock, I need you to understand that you can't just...avoid me when I'm feeling emotional. We're in this together now, and being in a relationship means that we support each other no matter how high emotions are running. And I suppose I need to work on that as well. But we can't just not talk for days on end to avoid a difficult conversation. It's not healthy in any circumstance, but especially not a romantic relationship."

The pair looked at each other for a moment before he cautiously grabbed her hand.

"I am so sorry. I know that we are both inexperienced in relationships, and neither of us is particularly fantastic at clearly communicating, but we will work on it together." He assured her.

"I'm sorry as well. We both played a part in this, and I could have handled the situation better as well. I know you weren't interested in Irene, and I know you never answered those messages she sent. I just ... got too into my own head, and you paid the price for it. But like you said- together. That's the only way we can do this." She agreed.

Then Sherlock surprised her by gathering her in his arms and hugging her tightly against him. "I love you." He reminded her as he kissed the top of her head.

"I love you, too." She said, her words muffled by his chest.

As they parted, he placed a gentle hand on her cheek, and she leaned into it. They stayed like that for a minute before standing up and walking out to the main room together. Sherlock grabbed his sheet music and violin on the way out.

"I think you may be right on something, though. There was a thread revealed in that case that goes much farther than we saw. But I don't think Irene is the only way we would get information. Your brother knows much more than he let on, and I have a feeling it's not over just yet." Melody said as he sat in John's chair.

"You may be right, but until we get a tug on that string, we're just as in the dark as we were before." Sherlock said, arranging his papers and beginning his composition once again. After all, just because they had figured things out, didn't mean he could leave a composition unfinished.

A few hours, and a bit of conversation later, Sherlock stood in his dressing gown at the window, focused on playing the sweetest, saddest tune on his violin. John was pottering about the flat - putting on his coat, clearly about to go out. Mrs. Hudson was clearing away plates from the breakfast table as Melody washed up the dishes from making said meal.
Mrs. Hudson pointedly showed the plates to John as she headed to the sink. Sherlock had finally eaten again.
"Lovely tune. Haven't heard that one before, Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson stated.
Sherlock stopped for a moment, made a mark on the sheet of manuscript, and then continued.

"Are you composing?" John asked.
"Helps me think." Sherlock informed him as he conical the sad, haunting tune.
"What are you thinking about?"
A discordant note came from Sherlock, and he threw down the violin and then stalked over to where John's laptop stood open at his desk. He pulled from his dressing gown pocket, Irene's leopard skin phone. He pulled up John's blog page. "Your blog counter - it's still stuck at 1895."
"Yeah , it's faulty, I can't seem to fix it." John brushed off.
"Faulty, or you've been hacked, and it's a message." Sherlock countered, then typed something in the phone. "No, it's just faulty."

He headed back to his violin, picked it up, and started playing again.
"Okay. Going out for a bit." John announced.
He started towards the kitchen and passed Mrs. Hudson, and pulled Melody aside. "Have you two talked? This is the first time you've been in here since Christmas."
"We did. Both of us agreed we were... a bit out of line. This case is just getting to him. Things are much more complicated than originally thought, and it's getting to him." Mel admit.

"So he's not upset anymore?"

"No. Well, not upset. Just frustrated with the phone and the case and all."
"Right. Well, I'm headed out. Ring me if you need anything." He said, giving her a quick hug and a kiss to the temple. "It's good to see you down here again. We missed you. Both of us."

"Missed you, too. See you in a bit, John." She replied with a smile.

As soon as John was out the front door, Sherlock sped into his room and back out within minutes.

"I'm following John. Or, rather, the tracker I put on his phone." He announced.

"The thread?" She asked, leaning against the back of his chair.

He nodded, then kissed her cheek and sped out the door. She smirked, then shook her head.

"Well, I suppose that we should tidy up a bit since they're both out." Mel suggested. "I'll start up here if you start downstairs? We'll meet in the middle."

Mrs. Hudson smiled and nodded. "Sounds lovely. It's wonderful to see you two have made up, by the way. So odd not having you two by each other's side all the time, I was worried." She admit.

"It's alright. We've talked and understand how to approach situations in the future." She assured her mother.

The two parts ways and got to cleaning their respective floors. Mel was finishing up the boy's flat when a loud crash sounded from the front door. She sped down the steps but stopped in her tracks when she saw someone standing in the doorway.

"Shit."