If this were a test, Metody would have passed it for the time being. (And really, it's always at least a fraction of a test with Sherlock Holmes.) He favors her with the edge of a smile, indicating that Movement 3 would have been the wrong answer, and commences his performance.
Vivaldi's Concerto no. 2 in G minor, L'estate, is written to be played allegro non molto in its first movement: fast, but not too fast. Sherlock complies; his non molto even manages not to be a little more molto than most, like one might expect from him, but there's something a bit sardonic in the way he drags out his bowing, as if he's humoring the display of formality. His tempo edges on a dragged-out allegretto.
It invests the piece with a thick sense of anticipation, already strung along by the lilting minor key--like it promises to slide into the adagio of the second movement, broken by furious strings, and then finally into the famous trembling presto strings of the Storm he disdains so much. But he never plays it. He leaves it unsatisfied and open-ended, still far from the consummation of the third movement: the end of Movement 1, as he promised.
"Movement 3 was my first piece," he comments as Extras break into a round of applause that he ignores. "My first proper piece. I was plucking away at it before then, composing things--drove the nanny round the bend, I'm sure. I've some remnant fondness, but it's much too often plucked out of context. Still. It's not Pachelbel." He cracks his knuckles. In some ways he's not unlike any other violinist; whenever an Extra prompts him to play Pachelbel's Canon in D, he claims he doesn't know it.
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Vivaldi's Concerto no. 2 in G minor, L'estate, is written to be played allegro non molto in its first movement: fast, but not too fast. Sherlock complies; his non molto even manages not to be a little more molto than most, like one might expect from him, but there's something a bit sardonic in the way he drags out his bowing, as if he's humoring the display of formality. His tempo edges on a dragged-out allegretto.
It invests the piece with a thick sense of anticipation, already strung along by the lilting minor key--like it promises to slide into the adagio of the second movement, broken by furious strings, and then finally into the famous trembling presto strings of the Storm he disdains so much. But he never plays it. He leaves it unsatisfied and open-ended, still far from the consummation of the third movement: the end of Movement 1, as he promised.
"Movement 3 was my first piece," he comments as Extras break into a round of applause that he ignores. "My first proper piece. I was plucking away at it before then, composing things--drove the nanny round the bend, I'm sure. I've some remnant fondness, but it's much too often plucked out of context. Still. It's not Pachelbel." He cracks his knuckles. In some ways he's not unlike any other violinist; whenever an Extra prompts him to play Pachelbel's Canon in D, he claims he doesn't know it.