Lessons in Blue

Part II

by "Her Much Mearning Hath Made Her Mad"

Holmes had watched Russell dance with Lorenz and others, including Andrews on two separate occasions, but he tried to force himself to concentrate on other matters. Namely making himself available for contact. He found himself less patient with waiting over the years, but tonight the waiting was boring and tiresome. And he found himself irritated at Russell. The fact that he knew his irritation was irrational made him more irritated. She is not here as your wife, and even if she were she is entitled to have a good time. Lorenz would hardly attract her. What was the phrase? He is hardly her "type."

Then again, she was twenty one. Was she even old enough to have "a type"? For all of her experience with grief, for all her academic achievements, for all her intelligence, had he given her enough time to grow as a woman? Was their marriage merely the next step in their relationship to her? Did she somehow think it was necessary to maintain their partnership? Did she really still need him? Was their physical relationship because she loved him, or because she both loved and was in love with him?

Yes, waiting had certainly gotten tougher with age. But maybe, in this one instance he should have waited longer. Yet he doubted he could have waited much longer. When she threw her arms around him on the dock, everything in his world came to a screeching halt. He knew that first day they shared wine at his cottage that she could change his life forever if he continued to see her. She had restored meaning. With their first kiss, she had brought new meaning. He was not a romantic man; he was not given to flights of fancy, nor did he truly believe in destiny. With one notable exception in his past, he had made a practice of making sure his head ruled his heart. That exception was partly due to his last visit to Switzerland. With Russell he had found a comfortable balance between head and heart; he was as sure of his feelings for her as he was of anything else in the world. He did not like feeling less sure of her feelings for him. Until this evening, he hadn't. He heard Russell's voice in his head, "Don't be an ass, Holmes." Didn't she actually agree to love, honor, and OBEY for pity's sake. Don't you know her better than anyone; don't you frequently know her better than she knows herself. He smiled to himself, once again his relationship with Russell was bolstered by faith.

He caught the eye of a young man coming toward him. He had noticed him before, he was a musician with the orchestra. First violin he seemed to recall.

"Excuse me sir. Aren't you Sherlock Holmes?"

"I am."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. We have a mutual acquaintance. I understand you took a few violin lessons from Maestro Evan Haley. He is my grandfather. I heard that you were here and just had to impose by introducing myself."

"Something you have not done, yet, however."

"Oh, yes, sir. Excuse me, sir. My name is Theodore Adam Snow, but everyone calls me T.A. because that's the way it's listed on programs, T.A. Snow."

"I did take lessons from your grandfather many years ago. I find the occasional lesson keeps one fresh and from getting sloppy with technique. Though this evening's music has been of a more popular nature, I take if from your position that you are an accomplished violinist?"

"I get by. Though I prefer to play the viola. The orchestra was not hiring violas." He paused, then continued, "The second set for this evening will have even more popular music, I'm afraid; so, there will be less need for strings. I will play the viola in a stringed quartet when the rest of the orchestra takes its break in a moment. Could we convince you to join us in Beethoven?"

"I don't have my violin, young man." Thinking better he added, "Though the offer is most kind."

"Please, Mr. Holmes. It will allow me to play the viola with one of my grandfather's favorite students, and it will allow the usual violinist to fulfill his fantasies of conducting."

"As I said, I did not bring my violin."

"You could use mine. It's not your Strad, but it is a Guarnerius given to me by the maestro."

For a violinist to offer his violin ... Slow, Holmes, slow. T.A. Snow. T.A.S.N.O.W. Watson. He's your contact. "In that case, I can hardly refuse."

With the orchestra on break, the string quartet took its place. Russell was amazed to see Holmes take the violin which was offered to him and sit in the first chair. What was he up to? She was not the only one who noticed that the great detective had joined the ranks of the players. Andrews, who hadn't really been more than a few feet away from her since dinner, joined her. "It seems Mr. Holmes has found a way to amuse himself after all this evening."

For some reason she felt she ought to say something. "He's an accomplished player." When he wants to be, she added to herself.

Holmes quickly checked the strings and bow, plucked a few strings, and satisfied that all was to his liking, nodded to the conductor. He was quite familiar with this Beethoven piece. In fact, he didn't need the sheet music that Snow had placed on the stand before him. He glanced at it more as a gesture to the others rather than out of need. His second glance, however, forced a third. That measure isn't right he told himself. He began reading the score carefully. Again a wrong measure. And again. Code? Were the notes supposed to tell him something. He played on but allowed himself to glance quickly back at the first few measures again. Every so often one note was slightly wrong, never more than a half-step or a quarter beat, but they were wrong. But the notes themselves could bring nothing to mind. What then? He looked again. There, he smiled with his eyes. It's not the notes, it's the measures. The errors in the notes pointed to the measures. The number of the measures, told him ... what? A touch, a distinct touch. The number of the measures corresponded with map coordinates. Holmes searched with his eyes for Russell.

She caught his look. There were any number of his looks that sent shivers through her. One was what she thought of as his "game's afoot" look. This look, though, told her the game is well in hand. She smiled, breathed a small sigh of relief, and permitted herself to enjoy the quartet.

Holmes allowed himself to enjoy the rest of the performance as well, and when the music ended he willingly accepted the applause with the rest. As the other members of the quartet began to move away, Holmes asked, "Snow, would it be possible for me to have this music as a reminder of the evening? I found it most enjoyable."

"But of course, Mr. Holmes. I'd be honored."

Holmes folded up the music and put it in his jacket, at the same time removing the envelope that was already there. He unobtrusively placed the envelope under the violin as he returned it to its case, as Snow was putting away his viola. Snow put his viola case under his arm and took his violin case with his hand. He extended his free hand to Holmes.

"A pleasure playing with you, sir." They shook hands.

"And you." Then much lower, "Is your grandfather really..."

"Yes, he is. And we are both fans of yours. But he made me practice through Dr. Watson's stories. Fifty scales for each page I read. Consequently, I read very slowly but play scales faster than anybody."

"Capital!" replied Holmes and the two departed.

Holmes turned to see Russell. And Andrews standing next to her. Still. He was certainly solicitous toward her. Did the man not have other duties this evening?!

The orchestra returned to its place. Holmes made up his mind and moved swiftly toward Russell.

"I am sorry, my dear chap, but Miss Russell graciously promised this dance to me." Holmes's made no attempt to hide his asperity. Without waiting for acknowledgment from Russell or Andrews, Holmes took Russell by the wrist and led her to the dance floor. He pulled her into position, put his hand firmly in the middle of her back and ordered, "I lead." It was a tone she had heard him use only once before, with Patricia Donleavy. The tone coupled with the iciness of his gaze raised every defense in her. Even during their many arguments over the years, she had never feared him as she did now. She had toyed with his emotions intentionally. She had not thought him capable of jealousy; she had played an immature, female game to gain his attention and that of others. She had enjoyed it, but at what price. It was not meant to be a test of love and trust, but somewhere that was what it seemed to have become.

"You dance beautifully, Holmes," she murmured softly.

"Thank you," came a crisp response.

She allowed her hand to gently run down and back up the front of his jacket, feeling the papers she had seen him put in its inside pocket. "I take it your errand has been completed?"

"It was more a trifle more complex than we were led to believe, but the delivery has been made and future transactions in the offing."

She studied his face and noted it was taut, his gaze avoiding hers. "Our business is finished then?"

"Yes."

"Would you care to take our leave?"

"You find dancing with me unpleasant."

"I did not say that." She tried to move a little closer to him, but he held her at a distance proper for acquaintances. As the song ended, he released her and they applauded the musicians with the rest of the audience.

The orchestra leader began the next song and she was surprised that Holmes, rather than offering his arm to lead her from the floor, turned her once again to him. She could not bring herself to look at him, but let her eyes circle around the room as he strongly led her around the floor. She noticed Andrews make a move toward them as if he were about to cut in. Russell could feel herself tense even more and tried desperately to relax. Andrews got about half-way to them from the side when Holmes turned to see him. His look dared Andrews to interfere. Andrews nodded slightly to them and proceeded to tap a gentleman dancing directly by him. Andrews cut in on the unknown couple and began a conversation with the woman. A gesture of defeat Russell was grateful to see.

Russell eased slightly and focused on the threads of Holmes's lapel, trying to let the rhythm of the music calm her.

Holmes turned his face to her ear and let acid drip from his low voice, "You may converse with anyone you wish, and you may dance with anyone you wish. But, Mrs. Holmes, you are never to wear this dress again."

She reared back to glare at him, blood and fury rising at an alarming rate at his possessiveness. Then she caught the gleam in his eye and caught her tongue immediately after. He pulled her closer allowing his one hand to slide ever-so-slightly lower on her back and pulled his other hand, with hers in it, toward them. "Unless you wear it just for me," he whispered. Russell tried unsuccessfully to stop a grin from claiming her mouth and her eyes and turned her head to his neck to hide from the other dancers. She took a deep breath and lingered over the smell of his soap and his tobacco, smells that contented her and grounded her to her core. "Whatever you say, husband mine. What ever you say."

They made their excuses and departed soon after. They rode back to the hotel in silence, stopping only briefly to allow Holmes to send the musical score secretly on its way.

Once in their rooms, she changed quickly from the, now famous ice blue, dress into her comfortable and concealing robe. She found Holmes sitting on the sofa staring into an unlit fire. He had removed his coat, vest, and tie and had donned his dressing gown. She crossed to him and plopped uncharacteristically, and more than a little wantonly, in his lap.

"Ugh, Russell!" he said surprised by her actions. Nevertheless, he lifted her and redistributed her weight on his lap. When it became apparent she intended to remain there he asked, "Shall we stay in the city tomorrow or head out?"

"Out."

"Where to? Lucerne? Bern? Geneva?"

She crossed her arms in front of her, and as casually as if she were ordering a cup of tea proclaimed, "Meiringen."

He just stared at her. "I wish to see Reichenbach" she told him flatly. When no verbal response came, she plunged forward on dangerous ground. "And then I wish to go to Montenegro." He stirred, but she made no move to get up. She proceeded, "We'll be a bit longer than we planned, but the bees and the farm can do without us."

After a few moments of Holmes looking at her, then to the empty fire place, then back to her, she grew anxious but held her ground. He began to drum his fingers in a gesture of annoyance, only he was drumming her leg instead of his--without realizing it.

"Why do you wish to see to Reichenbach and go to Montenegro?" His voice was quiet but annoyed.

She was prepared for this. "Because I have not seen them. Because I wish us to see them together. Because I wish you to have new memories to replace old ones."

Most unlike Russell not to be able to give him a logical reason; this sounded suspiciously sentimental to him. But for the life of him he could not come up with a better reason not to go. After what seemed like several minutes to her, his expression and his voice softened. "Russell, there are unexplored depths to you."

She grinned widely, got up from his lap, held her hand out to him, and as slyly as she could suggested, "Care to follow me to my room and begin an expedition then?"

"Vixen!" he shouted, wide-eyed but mockingly, and then began to chuckle.

He let her pull him up and followed her to the room, stopping to check the door and turn out the light. She proceeded him through the door, stopped and turned to him. Her manner and tone quite serious now. Taking both his hands in hers, and looking at them rather than at his face, she asked: "Holmes, have I told you lately that --"

He cut her off by raising her right hand, kissing it, and then letting his thumb run back and forth over the wedding ring she had returned to her finger. Its rightful place. Looking at her he smiled, "Yes, Russ, you have."

With that he gently closed the door behind them.