A/N: This story is M/M, so if you don't like, don't read. This takes place after Sherlock fakes his death. I love feedback, so please read and review!
Am I better off dead
Am I better off a quitter
I couldn't stand to think about it, but his dark curls kept sneaking into the corners of my mind and the hum of his violin echoed through my skull, threatening my tear ducts to react. I could remember everything about my time with Sherlock and it haunted me. But I couldn't recall the feeling I craved most, of his firm hand dragging mine, elevating my heart rate even more than the adrenaline of running from a murder.
They say I'm better off now
Then I ever was with him
Everyone says that Sherlock was wasting my life, had no respect for me, and put me in danger. They didn't know that without Sherlock I would've, and still might now that he's gone, end my own life. That the moments when Sherlock called me brilliant, laughed with, smiled at me, and even called my name made me feel like the highest ranked, most important being in the world. And the danger. His body pressed up against mine behind a wall, hiding from a criminal. His fake personas, sometimes where we would kiss to blend in with public. His witty comebacks and jokes, the way he always knew what to say. That was safety and comfort for me. The only danger with Sherlock was his deductions. My elevated pulse, my dilated eyes, my shyness around him, the only danger was him deducting the truth. I was -am- madly in love with Sherlock Holmes.
As they take me to my local down the street
I'm smiling but I'm dying trying not to drag my feet
Ever since Sherlock died an empty feeling has consumed me. Mrs. Hudson has tried every mate I have, trying to get them to help me forget Sherlock. Bill, Johnny, and Tim dragged me out tonight, literally dragged me. I tried to pretend that I was enjoying myself but I kept seeing shadows of Sherlock in the outskirts of my vision. I had flashbacks of him running next to me down the London streets, but I could never see his face.
They say a few drinks will help me to forget him
But after one too many I know that I'll never
Even Greg was at the bar. Lately he'd been drowning in drinks. Though he wouldn't admit it, Sherlock was his friend and without Sherlock, his job was tearing at the seams, he couldn't solve a case. I decide to try and drown my memories but that just strengthens the echo of Sherlock's words.
Only they can't see where this is gonna end
But they all think I'm crazy but to me it's perfect sense
Everyone thinks I'm crazy thinking Sherlock must still be alive. He wouldn't just pull a stunt like that. He wouldn't make me go through that and his last words to me, he would have said more. He was smart enough to save himself. He was the world's greatest magician, he could fake his death. But the only question I have is, if it was real, would he have said I love you? And I hold onto the hope he didn't say it because he knew he was coming back.
And my mates are all there trying to calm me down
'Cause I'm shouting your name all over town
By the time the alcohol controls my system, I am pulling my hair. All that echoes in my head is 'Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock.' And soon the thoughts become too much to bare and I am screaming.
I'm swearing if I go there now
I can change his mind turn it all around
And all I want is to have one more chance to share my feelings because maybe if I had told him, he wouldn't have left. Maybe if he knew now, he would come back. Maybe if he knew I could trace my fingers over his pale skin and wrap my fingers in his curls once and kiss him.
I know that I'm drunk but I'll say the words,
And he'll listen this time even though they're slurred,
If I told him he would come back. I had to tell him. It was a delayed reaction to a past problem, but maybe I could convince him.
So I dialed his number and confessed to him,
I'm still in love but all I heard was nothing (nothing, nothing...)
For some reason I expected for him to pick up the phone. To hear his voice, his laugh, or the smirk that always leaked into his words. But the machine reminded me Sherlock could not answer right now. And I whispered I love you to the answer machine, sending it off like a letter into nothingness.
[Verse 2]
So I stumble there, along the railings and the fences
I know if we're face to face then he'll come to his senses
I can't help but think if I saw his face now he would come back. That I could convince him how much I needed him. Because he had to care. Even if he didn't love me, he cared.
Every drunk step I take leads me to his door
If he sees how much I'm hurting
He'll take me back for sure
I walk to the cemetery, completely abandoning my mates. I gave up on happiness a when I felt Sherlock's dead pulse. If he saw how hurt I was now, would he still jump? Though he claimed to be a sociopath, I know he wouldn't. If he knew how much he meant to me he would still be alive.
I can change his mind turn it all around
I could convince him back in the past but it's too late now. Too late but I couldn't move on, couldn't help but hope.
I'm still in love but all I heard was nothing (nothing, nothing...)
And all I needed was his arms around me, comforting me, and his soft lips kissing my forehead and reminding me everything was okay. Telling me he was alive and it wasn't too late. Even if I had his blasted mind palace so I could store and revisit all our time together: every word, every touch, every moment.
Oh I wanted words but all I heard was nothing
Oh I got nothing (nothing nothing)
I got nothing (nothing nothing)
Oh I wanted words but all I heard was nothing
The silence in the flat was unbearable. The darkness reminding me that nightmares of echoing memories were on their way. And the dust reminding me with every move reminding me Sherlock wasn't here. He hadn't touched his skull. He hadn't played his violin. He hadn't sat with that look of figuring something out you didn't know yet on his face and his hands steepled under his chin.
Oh sometimes love's intoxicating
Oh you're coming down your hands are shaking
When you realise there's no one waiting
And every night when the door stayed closed, you realize he's not coming home. He's buried in the cemetery miles away.
Am I better off dead
Am I better off a quitter
I could just kill myself. Then all the pain would be gone and we would be reunited.
I'm still in love but all I heard was nothing (nothing, nothing...)
He said nothing (Nothing, nothing...)
Oh I wanted words but all I heard was nothing
Oh I got nothing (Nothing, nothing...)
I got nothing (Nothing, nothing...)
Oh I wanted words but all I heard was nothing
Oh I got nothing (Nothing, nothing...)
I got nothing, I got nothing
But I have to stay alive for when he comes back. Because I have to hope. Because I love Sherlock Holmes.
A/N: Thank you for reading! Please read and review!