Get Your Ass Back Home Annotated
Oh!
You're so sexy, yo!
John curled up in his blankets. The last person… is gone.
Sherlock stood on top of a hill. Another case solved. Another day gone.
I don't know, where you're going
Or when you're coming home
I left the keys under the mat to our front door
For one more chance to hold you close
I don't know, where you're going
Just get yourself back home
John cried. That was all he wanted. He wanted a certain someone to come home.
Sherlock sat in the train. Mycroft was explicit in his rules. No contact.
We knew this type of life didn't come with instructions
So I'm trying to do my best to make something out of nothing
And sometimes it gets downright in fact
When you call and I don't know what city I'm at
Or what day of the week in the middle of the month
Where are you? That's right… I see you every Sunday.
Every.
Sunday.
Sherlock watched his friend approach his grave.
His grave.
His friend.
His John.
In a year I don't recall
It's like my life's on repeat and the last time we spoke
I told you I wouldn't be long,
That was last November, now December's almost gone
I'd apologize but I don't realize what I'm doing wrong
John sobbed. The shaking wracked his body.
I don't think you were wrong to go.
You were wrong to not come back.
Would the person ever be back?
No.
Sherlock read the blog's latest update. He nursed his coffee and ignored the stares of the gun man that had come to find him. He wouldn't die. Not without John never knowing…everything.
I don't know, where you're going
Or when you're coming home
I left the keys under the mat to our front door
For one more chance to hold you close
I don't know, where you're going
Just get yourself back home
Please…please…
John cried himself to sleep.
Sherlock lay in an empty hotel room.
He wouldn't let that wrenching pain get to him.
And you've been nothing but amazing
And I never take that for granted
Half of these birds would've flew the coop
But you, you truly understand it
And the fact you stood beside me,
Every time you heard some bogusness
You deserve a standing o 'cause they'd a just been over it
John watched the people look at him sadly. Was he an idiot?
Sherlock admitted it. He was pining. Having The Woman as the one to rub it in was salt in the wound. He was lucky she was married after Belgravia. Or she would have taken him, despite John. Just to make him realize what he missed so dearly.
Let 'em talk, let 'em talk, let 'em talk, let 'em talk
Like we don't hear what they saying
Let 'em walk, let 'em walk, let 'em walk, let 'em walk
We'll just drive by and keep waving
John shrugged off the coat. He wasn't in 221b anymore.
Too many memories of a certain person.
If only he would walk through that door.
Sherlock stood in the shade his eyes hooded. John.
If only he could walk in.
If only he could say he was back.
He walked away.
'Cause you and I above all that
Just let them wallow in it
Now they all choked up, yuck
'Cause they be swallowing it
John kept the days. A year and a half so far.
He wanted to die.
One more year. Just next November. Sherlock put down his mobile.
One more year.
I don't know, where you're going
Or when you're coming home
I left the keys under the mat to our front door
For one more chance to hold you close
I don't know, where you're going
Just get yourself back home
John tossed and turned in his bed.
Sherlock stared into the city lights. So close yet so far away.
No one holds me down like you do sweetheart
You keep doing that, I keep doing this
We'll be alright in the end
Trust that
We put the us in trust, baby
Let's go
John held onto the pink mobile.
It was their first case.
Sherlock checked his pulse after John left the grave.
Racing just the same.
I don't care what you're after
As long as I'm the one, no
I don't care why you're leaving
You'll miss me when you're gone
John put the ring on her finger. He didn't love her but she loved him. She protected him.
She deserved it.
Sherlock winced as John said, "I do."
He wanted to vanish.
He wanted to be racing through London.
Pulling the groom behind him.
I don't know, where you're going
Or when you're coming home
I left the keys under the mat to our front door
For one more chance to hold you close
I don't know, where you're going
Just get yourself back home
John curled up in his chair. His heart fluttered only barely. Was this the end? Could he stop his heart just by wishing it?
He typed a text into his phone. It would go to the one that was never answered.
One with an accumulation of texts.
One that received a text each day.
One that would never call back.
The answering buzz came from the door. A tall figure appeared in the door way.
Sherlock looked at the figure hunched in the chair.
John leapt at him.
Punching and hugging him.
Sobbing all the while.
He was home.
I'm home baby!
Ha Ha.
The phone lay abandoned on the wood table.
From: JWatson
To: SH
Get your ass back home.
Wall of Disclaimers is up.
The moment I heard this song, I thought of Sherlock and John, and cried.
I'm a sentimental idiot.