John wakes up in the middle of the night, not too long after the pool and Moriarty’s threats and the strange calm that had settled over them in his wake, and Sherlock is playing something on his violin downstairs. He does that a lot lately, but this isn’t one of his usual pieces. It’s something John recognises, but Sherlock is playing it a little soft, a little quiet, almost like a secret, and so he can’t place it.
It’s the only time he hears it, that particular piece, but it sticks with him, whatever it is. It burrows its way beneath his skin, tucks itself up against his ribs, his heart brushing against it with every beat. He carries it everywhere, humming through him at crime scenes and in the backs of cabs and in the kitchen making tea. He can hear it at night, lying in bed with Sherlock just downstairs. Lying in bed with Sherlock cold in a grave. Lying in bed with Sherlock across the city, farther away than he’s ever been. And even with Mary beside him, he still hears it, and he still can’t place it, and he still wonders why he can’t give it up, dig it out of him, let it go. He wonders if he should ask, if he could, if he even really wants to know, but then there’s wedding planning and there’s cases and there’s never quite the right moment because how do you ask, how do you ask what was that song that night long ago, was it meant for me, is it still?
But he doesn’t ask, and it turns out he doesn’t have to because he hears it, finally, he hears it for real, not just the secret song still spinning in his head. And it’s all wrong because it shouldn’t be like this, it’s too cruel a twist of fate for him to be able to place it now, when he’s armored in his morning suit, when Mary’s pressed into his arms, when he looks around and around at the laughing smiling dancing faces of friends and family and people he barely knows and not a single one of them is the man who played it for him, the man who gave him this secret and then gave him up.
He breaks free of Mary’s grasp, excusing himself, running, asking, searching, seeking, the words he could never place echoing, echoing, echoing.
Take my hand Take my whole life, too For I can’t help falling in love with you
Help! I have a chair test due over Marche Slav and my fingers can't move fast enough
Hmm ok, I can think of two routes for this: 1. You can try taking each fast passage measure by measure. Take one measure, play it super slow. Then once you’re certain you have it down speed it up a little. A metronome can be useful with this, eww I know but it does help. Basically continue this until you reach your goal tempo. Then you can try playing two measures at a time until you have that then add another and so on. If you even wanted to you can add more to this to challenge yourself further. For example, if you wanted you could add a step for you to play a measure above the goal tempo as an extra challenge then work your way back down to your goal tempo. I’ve had a teacher recommend that. Hope this helps some!! 2.You can try and communicate with Tchaikovsky’s spirit in the afterlife and beg him to help you. Or just rant to him. If you choose this make sure to tell him I said “hi”!
Either way I wish you best of luck with your chair test!!! OH and try not to stress yourself out too much! Take a deep breath, you’ll be okay
i dont usually do this but @lordofdorknessgundam drew me literally the coolest thing ever and i felt i needed to thank them so here is a crude drawing of your dr1 and dr2 faves doing what they do best :)
Have we talked about the Bridge in FTDT??
Because holy fuck
From 1:40 till 2:18, it’s like a heaven of perfect harmony!!
His voice, harmonies between the main vocals and the back vocals, the ’ maybe you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry too’ ™
The Violins as well !!!!!
I feel personally attacked
Playing the violin is so complex? Like first of all, my mind sets the notes on the paper into sounds and places my fingers on the exact place on the strings where the sound comes from. My mind has to learn to automatically make the pure sound. But then, I also have to move my arm in the exact way, to make the sound. If I hold the bow wrong, the sound won’t sound right. It might creak, or don’t even make a sound. I have to hold it correctly in my hand. loosely, but not too much. But that’s not all; in my mind, I also have to count in time. Make sure that every note I play, is exactly long enough.
And this is only playing solo. Imagine when you also have to think of the other musicians in an orchestra.