James Moriarty was approached shortly by Da Vinci, just to be handed very small package, a small explaination that other would understand once reading before going away. In the package, there was a small sheet of paper titled motionless spider in the centre of his web. It would be musical piece, calm one, with disturbing undertones resonating through whole. Handwritten in familiar style. One could only wonder why delivered on that day, days after the author was no more.
James already had an idea to the origins of the package before Da Vinci tried to explain anything . He may be no ... investigator, but really, it was no great mystery . No one else would have bothered him on this day, after all . No one is here to bother him anymore .
... he was no violinist either . One glance at the sheet past its irritating title, and he already deemed it unplayable on the piano .
Unwilling to alter it for his instrument, too . Uninspired to compose its duet . Undesirable . Unbearable . Plenty of words that begin with 'u .' None with 'you .'
But something tugged at him not to leave it untouched either . Unheard in the present, when it was meant to be played .
"... must you always seriously inconvenience my person in the middle of February ?" James mused, attempting to tune a violin - familiar to the eyes but unfamiliar in his hands, not belonging - by ear . He was no musical genius, but he supposed this - E slightly flat, A ready to snap, G fine so suspicious, D almost sharp - would do .
And then he would try to play . Fingers unsure of their place, sliding up and down, instrument wobbling against amateur shoulder . Terrible . A piano was much simpler in comparison . Yet he refused to give up so soon . Again . Different mistakes . Again . Unpleasant to the ears . Again !
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