A/N: OK, so I've decided to do a songfic. Hopefully you like it. Each short paragraph is based off one of the main stanzas, with the first paragraph being the first main stanza, and so on. A bit AU with Johnlock.
Using "Hallelujah" by Rufus Wainwright.
"I play violin when I'm thinking." Music was Sherlock's only escape from his reality. And he thought that was the worst about him. Not the fact that he could jump off a building at any time, falling through the air, his coat flapping behind him. John winced at the memory, then recalled how something in that moment had made him yell Sherlock's name, hoping that this wasn't happening. But it had. It had happened, and Sherlock and the bastard Moriarty were gone.
Irene Adler, the woman. No, that wasn't right. Sherlock had called her The Woman. One of two people to beat Sherlock Holmes. Perhaps the only one to enter his heart in a loving-ish way. But that was uncharted territory. Maybe there was another who had done so, an unrecognized soldier.
John walked through St Bart's, remembering when he would do so with Sherlock on the way to the morgue. Even the name hurt. But it was the only name that could protect him from the nightmares, every night. No matter. Sherlock was gone, a body in the cold ground. He'd left behind John's broken heart, but then again, this was Sherlock. He wouldn't have cared.
John was shaving when he cut himself. It reminded him painfully of him, that night when John had found out the meaning of "danger night". Sherlock had been on the floor on the bathroom, using the razor. Not fatally, just on his arm. He'd explained later that he felt a darkness in him that needed to be let out. In the present, John broke down crying on the toilet, razor on the ground, forgotten.
Three years after The Study in Pink case, when Sherlock was gone, John sat remembering. Sherlock had been outmaneuvered by a cabbie with an immunity to the poison. It was obvious, at least to John. John had shot, and killed, a man who'd outdone the famous detective after knowing the latter for less than twenty-four hours. Now, of course, it was a different matter. John would do anything for the man he loved, even if he was dead and gone.
A/N: Review please?