Every Song Reminds Me of You

...

It starts in the shower. There's something about the acoustics in the bathroom, combined with the rush of water, that has always enticed John to sing. Any song will do — from childhood favourites to whatever he's most recently heard on the radio. Whether John remembers the lyrics or not doesn't matter; he's quite capable of making up his own.

So, that's how it starts. The water cascades down over John's body as he belts out his personal version of Amy Winehouse's Valerie:

Since I've come on home
Well, my body's been a mess
And I've missed your curly hair
And the way you like to dress

Won't you come on over
Stop treating me like I'm your toy
Why don't you come on over my Posh Boy?
My Posh Boy, my Posh Boy, my Posh Boy…

Huh… Where did that come from? John wonders idly as he towels off. Posh Boy…

…

The next morning, John has The Beach Boys stuck in his head, but the lyrics that spill out of his mouth in the shower become:

Well, Posh Boy, you look so fine
And I know it wouldn't take much time
For you to help me, Posh Boy
Help me get her out of my heart

Help me, Posh Boy
Help, help me, Posh Boy
Help me, Posh Boy
Help, help me, Posh Boy

John laughs to himself as he borrows Sherlock's overpriced shampoo, and keeps on singing.

Help me, Posh Boy
Help, help me, Posh Boy
Help me, Posh Boy
Help, help me, Posh Boy

Help me, Posh Boy
Help, help me, Posh Boy
Help me, Posh Boy, yeah
Get her out of my heart

…

Soon, John finds that he can't hear a single song without unconsciously changing the lyrics to include his new secret nickname for Sherlock. Singing in the shower is one thing, but now these songs have started taking over his life.

John hates Justin Bieber, but this damn song was playing on the radio in the cab and he just can't get it out of his head:

'Cause if you like the way you look that much
Oh, Posh Boy, you should go and love yourself
And if you think that I'm still holdin' on
Well, Posh Boy, you should go and love yourself

At first, John is glad when he hears an equally catchy tune, thinking it will save him from the horrors of Justin Bieber. Unfortunately, Train has turned the melody of Heart and Soul into an ear-worm that he just can't shake.

Posh Boy song
The one that makes me go all night long
The one that makes me think of you
That's all you gotta do

Hey, Posh Boy song
The one the makes me stay out till dawn
The one that makes me go oooh
That's all you gotta do

…

As if that wasn't bad enough, John rapidly discovers that everyday events are now becoming song cues. Laying the fire on a chilly night leads to an internal:

You know that it would be untrue
You know that I would be a liar
If I was to say to you
Boy, we couldn't get much higher
Come on, Posh Boy, light my fire
Come on, Posh Boy, light my fire
Try to set the night on fire

And each time Sherlock does something inconsiderate or foolhardy, John silently channels Hall & Oates:

You're a Posh Boy, and you've gone too far
'Cause you know it don't matter anyway

John snickers to himself at the thought of what Sherlock would say if he could hear the soundtrack in John's mind.

…

It's only in the shower that John allows himself to sing out loud. That's where he's always felt free to let go of all of his inhibitions. Lately, though, the songs that come to him seem to be filled with a meaning he might not be ready to face.

When you were a young boy
Did you have a puppy
That always followed you around?
Well, I'm gonna be as faithful as that puppy
No, I'll never let you down

'Cause it grows stronger, like a river flows
And it gets bigger, Posh Boy, heaven knows
And it gets sweeter, Posh Boy, as it grows

And do I love you, my oh my?
Yeah, river deep, mountain high
If I lost you would I cry
Oh, how I love you, Posh Boy
Posh Boy, Posh Boy, Posh Boy

That one he shrugs off by telling himself that it was triggered by Donovan comparing him to a puppy following Sherlock around. The next one he figures is just an expression of his lifelong admiration of Paul McCartney:

And when I go away
I know my heart can stay with Posh Boy
It's understood
It's in the hands of Posh Boy
And Posh Boy does it good
Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa, whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa
Posh Boy does it good

And when the cupboard's bare
I'll still find something there with Posh Boy
It's understood
It's everywhere with Posh Boy
And Posh Boy does it good
Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa, whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa
Posh Boy does it good

Whoa-whoa, I love, oh-whoa, Posh Boy
Only Posh Boy holds the other key to me
Oh-whoa, Posh Boy, oh-oh, Posh Boy
Only Posh Boy does it good to me
Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa, whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa
Posh Boy does it good

John is just a huge fan of Paul McCartney. That's all.

…

Each morning, behind the muffling safety of the water, John runs through one song after another. As time goes by, he washes away his denial. John is in love with a Posh Boy.

John is in love with Sherlock.

…

It's bound to happen eventually, and one day it does: John starts singing as he makes tea.

Posh Boy says
Only fools rush in
But I can't help
Falling in love with him

There's a gasp from behind him, and John whirls around to see Sherlock sitting at the table. In a blind panic, John dashes from the kitchen, races up the stairs, and shuts himself in his room. The only song running through his mind now is shite, shite, shite, shite, shite, shite, shite…

Idiot! John berates himself. Why did you run off like that? You could have bluffed your way through this like it meant nothing, but no, you had to go and turn it into a Huge Fucking Deal. Fuckity fucking fuck!

John hears Sherlock's footsteps on the stairs and frantically casts around for an excuse for his behaviour. Hmm… He thought he heard someone breaking into his room. Yeah. That's why he ran up here. John grabs his gun and aims it at the window, freezing in a pose that will show Sherlock that he's managed to scare off the intruder.

Sherlock doesn't enter the room, though. Instead, he pauses outside the door and begins to sing. It takes a minute for John's fevered brain to register what he's hearing.

Doctor, doctor, give me the news
I've got a bad case of lovin' you…

...

End Notes: Your reviews make me smile. :)