I am the boy. He is Bach. He’s come to finish the piece. He means to kill me
The door swung open and John walked in with what looked like five hundred rolls of wallpaper, two tins of blue paint, and a small tin of gloss. Mrs Hudson stood behind him with a bag, which had paintbrushes, wallpaper paste and other things you would need to decorate a room.
Sherlock sighed. “I know why he’s back.” He said, taking the rolls of wallpaper from John. “He came here after the court case, I was playing my violin. I stopped when I heard him coming up the stairs.” Mrs Hudson had left by now, having given John permission to decorate. “I was playing Bach, I can’t remember which one, he came in and said… ‘You know when he was on his deathbed – Bach – he heard his son at the piano playing one his pieces. The boy stopped before he got to the end.’ And I looked at him, and said ‘And the dying man, jumped out of bed and ran straight to the piano, to finish it.’” John looked intently at Sherlock waiting for his explanation. “You’re not observing John. I’m the boy, or the piece, he’s Bach, and he’s back to finish me.”
“Okay.” John said. “You’ll be okay, you always are.”
“Hmm. Anyway let’s get this room decorated.” Sherlock sighed and walked into the empty room. “Wow this will take us ages.”
They set too, mixing wallpaper paste, pouring paint into trays, masking tape was put along the skirting board. The paper was plain white with embellished silver dots in lines around it, Sherlock was in charge of that. While he was doing that, John was painting the skirting board and window ledge with white gloss to freshen them up.
It took all of five hours to do before the finally finished and ordered Chinese from the all hour take away on the end of Baker Street.
The next morning, John was building a double bed while Sherlock began hanging canvases on the walls, the flooring had arrived so Mrs Hudson showed the carpenter into the bedroom where he began fitting the soft, cream carpet which matched the wallpaper.
“It’s starting to take shape isn’t it?” John said to Sherlock over a mug of tea in the living room. The night before, they had accidentally started a paint fight after John lost his balance and fell back, painting Sherlock’s leg in the process.
“Yes it is” he was unpacking a pack of fairy lights and trying to get them to work, when he realised the batteries were the wrong size.
“I told you that you needed triple a batteries not double.” Sherlock looked at him unimpressed. “I did!” The carpenter came in and smiled, “Thank you!” John stood up and put down his tea and went into the room once more, he and Sherlock began to move the furniture in. After many arguments it was almost over.
The ceiling had been painted a light blue colour, one wall had been painted in a slightly darker shade, which became the feature wall where Alexa could hang pictures and posters. The rest of the room was papered, a wardrobe that still needed to be assembled was in the corner. The bed was against one wall, it was unmade, waiting for Sherlock to sort the covers and the duvet out, and there was a desk underneath the window with a lamp still in its box. The fairy lights were carefully weaved around the headboard of the bed, and the curtains were hung and drawn back with the ties.
“I’m so glad this is almost over.” John said as they assembled the wardrobe. A sharp doorbell ring sounded through the apartment. They both looked at each other.