You had to leave town. You didn't know for how long, and you didn't have the heart to tell John and Sherlock. As you stood near the window, you heard footsteps behind you, and soon enough, violin. Quick, sharp music notes, expressing Sherlock's emotions: he knew something was up.

After a while, he put down the instrument, his fingers tapping on it quickly.

"When did you plan on telling us?"

Sherlock asked, not even looking in your direction.