Sherlock watched the two sway and twirl as he played gloomily on his violin. Sherlocks violin was his way of expression. He often suppressed all feelings he deemed were too emotional. But his violin…. his violin was the only way he could set those feelings free. If someone were to listen carefully they could hear the sound of him breaking, but only if they could decode the melody that his own hands produced.
He was playing for John and Marys first dance. All eyes were on the two lovers, now newly-weds. No one saw Sherlock as he ripped into his Violin with the saddest, yet most romantic, music he had ever come up with. His eyebrows were furrowed, as if in concentration and his eyes closed tight, so that he could allow his own sounds overtake him. The melody brought up a different image in his head. A different universe, were Sherlock stood where Mary was. Where Sherlock had come back earlier or at least told John he was still alive and John had welcomed Sherlock back as if he was lover who had been gone for years and had finally returned.
He imagined him and John dancing on that floor. Both wearing lean black and white suits. As Sherlock continued to strike his violin, he managed to recover happier thoughts and he could hear it in his hollow instrument. The tune began to sound happier and more romantic as he imagined him and John. Just the two of them against the rest of the world.
Slowly, the song came to an end, and Sherlock reluctantly opened his eyes once more. He saw the two together again and the last few notes bore the most melancholy sound.
He could have loved him with all his heart. If only he had one.
