Chapter Text
Eventually, all good things come to an end. You know the saying. Before we'd had the chance to solve the great mysteries that defined our early days as a pair of two real persons, summer began fading away. There were still a few hot days ahead, but there was an undeniable chill in the air, and from time to time, we'd see a yellow leave or two amongst the green ones. Despite how eventful our life on Cordona had been until that point and the many unanswered questions that threw dark shadows all over us, a certain calm followed. In the end, even Mycroft let us be, aside from the well-dressed gentlemen who always seemed a tad too interested in their newspapers whenever we passed them and the occasional case he'd drop in our mailbox. Although Sherry was always inclined to reject his brother's requests, we both needed the money and more often than not, the cases turned out to be interesting, anyway.
But all in all, tranquillity overshadowed everything by the end of summer 1880, and we let everything that troubled us await its turn while we simply enjoyed our lives for a little while. We lived in the eye of the storm, but we were ignorant and happy there.
It was when I began feeling it for the first time – the itch. One could simply call it boredom, but I knew boredom and that itch was different. It was new, exciting. A little frightening. In retrospect, I can say that it was my need to discover myself in ways most real people do – by finding out what they do and don't like, as well as their limits and boundaries. It's a normal process everyone undergoes while growing up, but to me, every new discovery about myself awakened a strange fear. Don't misunderstand; I was curious to get to know myself, but I wasn't quite prepared to be entirely separate from Sherlock just yet - when you've identified yourself through another person for over a decade, you don't simply stop and become independent within a few months. Ultimately, what he had said about the birds living in a cage turned out to be very spot on, even if not in the same way as he had feared.
But the itch stayed despite my initial doubts, and before long, I found myself branching out. I was as insecure as a baby deer on its feet, but no matter how difficult it must have been to watch me become more and more my own person, Sherry was there with me every step, always having my back. He watched me approach new people and engage in meaningless chatter, watched me try out new clothes and styles, new foods, new everything, while he stayed in the background and observed, ready to intervene should I ever need it. He was my guide, but he also let me do my own thing.
I also tried out hobbies. I figured out I wasn't bad at everything, and it honestly surprised me. It was easy to compare myself to Sherry and despair, but even though I was nowhere near as good as he was at painting and drawing, my flowers still looked like flowers. Whatever I wrote still read well even though I'd never had English lessons – it was merely my handwriting that desperately needed some improvement. There was a natural artistic talent in me, and never having created anything before didn't stand in my way too much, because I wasn't aiming for perfection. I didn't question this until a little later, and he did not comment on it.
Then, there were skills in which I was superior, despite him having had a head start of more than twenty years. For one, Sherlock cannot cook to save his life! After spending tons of money in restaurants and bakeries, one day, I finally decided that we were grown enough to start cooking our own meals. Naturally, he initially refused. However, even after I'd somehow managed to convince him to try and fry some eggs and meat, the end result was, well… dreadful. Next to him, I looked like a five-star chef. It was when I realised that experience wasn't always more important than enthusiasm and the willingness to try, and before long, I ended up preparing our meals at least a few times a week. There was this soup* I made that he loved a lot. I think I made him gain a pound or two with that soup alone.Of course, I'd also finally found something I was better at, and that was quite amusing by itself. I didn't let him live it down for a while.
Eventually, venturing into the world and experiencing it like a proper person would, started to feel like fun. There was more to it than just the hobbies - knowing that I might not be the only one to undergo such transformation motivated and inspired me as well. Even if there were only two of us, former imaginary people, I was no longer all alone in this bizarre fate, and that meant the world to me. Of course, Mycroft's words had been both cryptic and threatening enough to kill every sliver of hope that I'd ever meet another like me, but at that point, the mere knowledge that I wasn't as big an anomaly as I'd thought was enough to make me feel more human.
But, of course, branching out did not mean neglecting Sherlock. It was quite the opposite – I hoped my more profound knowledge about myself would help us strengthen our connection and that we would get to know each other on a deeper and, I daresay, healthier and less dependent level. While ignoring the storm that had started brewing three months ago around us, I began planning our future.
"I could pick an instrument. The violin," I suggested one day. We were having a picnic in our garden. Sherry had not wanted to participate at first until I had reminded him how it was likely the last hot day we'd have that year before summer finally passed its reign to fall and its cold showers. Ultimately, he'd said yes, although it had not been my argument that had convinced him – he'd only joined to make me happy.
"Would you like that?"
"I would. I haven't gotten any real hobbies, Sherry. What is a man to do without anything to kill time with? I can't make food all day - I'm not a mom who has to feed a dozen hungry mouths." I was lying on the grass and idly tossing and catching a pomegranate I'd gotten from our garden. I was admittedly too full from the cucumber sandwiches and lemonade I'd made and didn't feel like doing anything else at that moment. In the meantime, he'd picked a book to read while resting on our blanket.
"Besides…," I chuckled, "…I know you would enjoy listening to me once I get good at it." I paused my game to turn to the side and catch a glimpse of him as I said that. Although he was trying his best to hide his face behind his lecture, I could see the corner of his mouth rise just a little.
"It would be silly to pick a hobby just to entertain me, Jon."
"Maybe… but you would like it, wouldn't you? Especially if I did it just to entertain you." I grinned.
"This is a preposterous assumption," he finally put the book down and tried to look oh-so-serious, but I burst into silent laughter, and he couldn't help smiling back at me. Of course, the book shot up immediately to hide his reddening face. He'd always deny it, but he has a soft spot for big gestures and sweet words. "You are impossible."
"May I not learn to play the violin to please the ear of my…?"
But I couldn't say it. Despite everything, we didn't use these kinds of words when it came to us - at least not when Mycroft wasn't around to scandalise. We were what we were. It was fine this way.
"I think I will do just that," I concluded our conversation and tossed the fruit up in the air once more. This time, I failed to catch it, and it landed somewhere behind me. What a pity!
"Do as you will."
But it wasn't until the afternoon that I got to pick the violin we'd gotten from a case we'd solved. Good intentions to learn skills only to flatter Sherry weren't enough to make me want to leave the sunshine. The day spent outside had simply been too pleasant and relaxing for both of us.
Eventually, we ended up back in our bedroom. We'd consumed too many sandwiches to even consider dining that evening, so we simply decided to round off the day with some peace and quiet before going to bed. It wasn't like us, you would think, to take so much joy in the silence instead of seeking adventure and fun, but I like to believe that at that point, we both sensed that we ought to cherish the calm while it lasted.
I no longer needed to wear a bandage – the bullet wound I'd gotten had healed just enough, although it was not very pleasant to the eye. Still, I no longer felt restricted in the movements of my left arm, so when I grabbed Sherry's new violin and smiled at him, I felt ready to produce the most horrifying sounds a man with a musical instrument had ever produced without paying the price in the form of physical pain. For a moment, he put his lecture down on the table, leaned back into the armchair we'd placed in our room, and eyed me in anticipation.
Of course, we both knew that I couldn't play. He couldn't play either, but he'd at least had a physical body with two hands for decades. Among the two of us, he was always going to be the one with the more refined movements, the less clumsy one who didn't drop things all the time because having limbs was totally new. But it didn't mean I wasn't going to give it a try regardless, even if it meant ruining his evening with unbearably unpleasant sounds.
So, after clearing my throat, I picked the bow, gave him a playful wink, and…
… and then I lowered it again. The realisation felt like a locomotive hitting me right in the face. I stared at him wordlessly, mouth ajar, and I watched the smirk slowly vanish as he saw that I was in a shock-like state. It must have been quite odd from his perspective to see me so stunned for no apparent reason.
"Did you change your mind about picking the violin?" he asked, tone still teasing, but I could tell that my reaction was starting to unnerve him. He leaned forward in the chair, body all tense and eyebrows furrowed. "Jon?"
And I? I was euphoric. Once the initial shock washed away, I burst into laughter.
"You are so not going to believe this!" I paced around, violin and bow still in my hands. I was too excited about the discovery to know what to do with myself. The joy in my voice must have eased his worries, and he sighed in relief.
"I can't believe anything if you don't share it with me."
"I will, but you will have to close your eyes first. Trust me."
He hesitated at first, but after I gave him a reassuring smile and a nod, he once again leaned back and did as I'd asked – he let his eyes fall shut and rested both hands in his lap.
And then… then I played for him. I played a melody we'd both known since our childhood together, a melody we'd recently heard at the old music teacher's place. Despite being entirely new to the physical world and its limitations, there was nothing as easy to me as making the violin sing this perfectly melancholic tune. It was like breathing to me – as essential to my being as having a heartbeat and just as effortless.
Not for a moment did I think that was normal, and neither did he. We'd both been surprised by my ability to paint, but this - this was something else. Once I finished the piece, I placed the instrument down on the desk and finally dared to look at him and see his reaction. It was his turn to stare at me in shock.
"How?" was all he managed to ask.
"I don't know," was all I managed to reply.
I looked at my feet, not knowing what to say to make his apparent unease disappear, but the truth was that I was happy. I looked at my hands and couldn't believe they had been able to play an instrument they had never touched before. Of course, it wasn't a skill I'd spent years refining, but to say I didn't feel pride regardless… now, that would have been a big lie.
"The moment I took the bow in my hand and led it to the violin, I realised that I knew how to play, Sherry. I know it to the smallest detail! Do you think it's because I used to play for you before I got this body? That I somehow kept all my imaginary skills?"
Still too perplexed, he simply stared at me, slightly shaking his head. "I… I can't say."
I took a deep breath and sat down on the bed, but excitement leaked from every pore of my being, and despite all my efforts to handle the situation with grace, I was quite jittery. It was something big, a new discovery that amazed me and made me vibrate with joy, and that joy threatened to burst out of me if I didn't release it soon in a more controlled way.
"I can always play for you. I can… likely play other instruments, too. I could become a great virtuoso!" And just like this, within seconds, I saw myself playing for large audiences, finally having found a place in the human world that belonged to me and me only. Perhaps this was what I needed to feel like someone whose existence wasn't all wrong and unnatural – a purpose outside of him, something I did for myself and myself only.
Only if he could share my great joy with me, but Sherry was still quite shaken, and the more I rambled about my bright future as a great musician, the more his discomfort grew. What was a miracle to me was yet another unsolvable mystery to him, and he'd had enough of these for a lifetime.
Eventually, his silence became too loud to ignore, no matter how elevated my mood was and how ignorant of my surroundings I became when I was excited. It made me put an end to my monologue and take a deep breath to calm my nerves before speaking again.
"I am freaking you out, am I not?"
Finally, my words brought a smile to his lips, although his stance remained tense. "A little, perhaps. I can't make sense of you to this day."
I nodded, and we remained like this for a while. This time, his reaction didn't manage to sour my mood - I no longer doubted the depth of his love and his ditress didn't make me feel that insecure. Still, it was undeniable that my everchanging nature had become a thorn in his flesh. And yet…
"We have the chance to find out more about my transformation. The answers to all these questions are just under our noses." I finally added, quite confident that he knew what I meant.
But just like the first time I'd mentioned Mycroft's cryptic words to him, his mood shifted for the worse, and he withdrew. I knew he had his reasons, but it felt wrong to always leave too much unspoken between us. Instead of dropping the topic, I got up on my feet and knelt on the floor next to him.
"Sherry…" I spoke quietly and took his hands in mine. "It's not like you to back off. I know you want to pursue this, so why aren't you? We read every single book on the island, and we remained just as clueless! This is our chance. Why would you miss it?"
A silent gasp left his lips. He was staring at our entwined fingers for some time before raising his head and looking me in the eye with a mixture of regret and affection.
"I will figure it out, I promise. I simply find myself… troubled by Mycroft's warning. I would like to plan our next steps thoroughly before we take them, and if my deductions are correct, there is nothing left to investigate before we get back to London. The occurrences he has hinted at have not happened here, and he will not tell us anything, Jon."
"Now, this is nothing like you," I mumbled. He wasn't the type of a person to get scared by a warning, but the kind who always faced danger head-on. Reckless and brave – that was the Sherry I knew and loved, even when his recklessness and endless pride made him put himself in grave danger. He was likely correct, and there was nothing we'd find out while on Cordona, but he seemed too relieved about that fact for me to simply ignore it. It had bugged me for a while.
But when his eyes involuntarily shot to my left arm and the half-healed wound, I began to understand. He was scarred as well, albeit not visibly. A bird who no longer felt free to roam the skies.
There was nothing I could do to help him recover, but I pulled him close and wrapped my arms around him. Sitting on the floor next to me, he let his head rest on my shoulder and sighed deeply.
"When I saw you fall, it was as if the world stopped moving," he said quietly. "I was no longer myself. I simply pulled the trigger - he was a danger to you that I needed to eliminate..."
"I know," I whispered and my grip around him tightened. The shaking of his voice whenever he spoke of that accursed day broke my heart. "You did what you had to do. None of it is your fault." The peck I placed on his temple drove a hum out of him. Without saying another word, he wrapped both arms around my neck and locked our lips, and although his kiss felt desperate and frightened, I couldn't help getting lost in the heavenly feeling of his soft lips. We spent some time like this, and while kisses and caresses weren't enough to heal all the wounds, they made us feel good enough to forget the bad things for a while.
Despite how much the new discovery had initially unsettled him, he still asked me to play for him one more time before we headed to bed. This time, we both enjoyed the music and joked a little more about my bright future as a great violinist before we fell asleep in a tight embrace.
When we woke up the following day, we rushed downstairs. We'd slept too much, and the sandwiches from the day before hadn't been enough, after all. That is to say, we were both hungry as hell, and some warm coffee was also more than welcome.
But much to our surprise, we were not the first ones to enter our main hall on that day. The intruder had long left, but they'd left a package with a little note.
"It seems you are invited to a party tonight," I chuckled, but the oddness of it all made my heart sink. There was something offputting about that mask and the long black robe that the intruder had left for Sherlock along with the invitation. But ultimatelly, it was seeing Verner Vogel's signature that I disliked the most.