The Case of the Waterlogged Violinist

Chapter 9

Mozart's Mass No. 4 played in the background. I slipped out of my street clothes. Naked I stood before the mirror, observing scars from past injuries—some self-inflicted, others not. I bent down, stepping into the pants first, then pulled up the stockings, and put on the soft 18th-century style trousers, running my hands over the silken folds in the material. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to enjoy the feel of it against my legs. I yawned. I mustn't fall asleep. John, where's John? I'll ring him to make some tea.

"John?" I bellowed. No answer. "John?" A tap at the door sounded. "Come in."

Irene slinked in, her dress rustling like wind displacing a pile of dead leaves. "Sherlock, what is it?"

I sighed. "I need some tea. John didn't answer."

Irene picked up the wig cap that lay on the dresser and smoothed it over my curls. "He's gone, love. Remember?"

I looked up at her. "Of course, I remember. I just momentarily forgot."

"Here, let's get you into this costume."

She helped me put on the laced sleeved white shirt, gold brocade vest, and blue velvet jacket. We watched each other during the process. The clothing touched my skin. She touched my face. My eyes sought hers. She turned away. "Sherlock, you've got to be strong. I need you."

I brought her fingers to my lips. "Of course, the case comes first, until it doesn't."

Irene looked confused. "Sherlock, what are you talking about?"

I stood up, straightening the jacket. "It's nothing to concern yourself with." I then pushed my feet into the shoes, walking a few tentative steps in them before I took her arm. "Are you ready?"

She grinned. "I thought you'd need time to adjust to the shoes."

I looked back at her. "Why would I need time to adjust?"

"They do have a slight heel."

I smirked. "I've worn heels before."

"Yes, you have. I thought you'd forgotten."

I smoothed my hands along the front of my clothing. "How could I forget?"

Irene laughed. "That case was delicious, wasn't it? You know my favorite part was when John saw you. His eyes almost dropped out of his head. One word from you and he'd have dropped trou."

I glared at her. "Irene, John is straight, and I am what I am. I've no interest in sex. What do I have to do to make it clear, create a re-occurring post on all my social media accounts?"

Irene smiled. "Who said anything about sex, dear boy?"

I sighed. "You're an idiot. Let's go before I choke you."

"Ooo, now that sounds like a plan. I've just the thing in my bedroom."

I playfully flicked her wrist with my finger. "Come on. Now, where's John? Oh, that's right; he deserted." I snatched my mask from the top of the dresser, and we left.

***

Irene and I greeted our host, then I made my way to the dais where the other musicians of the quartet were warming up. I introduced myself, then the 1st violinist handed me music. "Have you had a chance to look at the parts I emailed you?" He asked.

I looked back at him. "It's just the second violin part. Even Mozart said, 'You don't need to have studied to play the second violin part.'"

He rolled his eyes. "Fine Wolfgang let's tune, or don't you need to do that either?"