The fall (tears stream)
I heard this song when I was watching spoilers (bad Alice) for the reichenbaek…. (?) falls, where Sherlock might die (MAJOR PANIC ATTACK HAPPENED THERE) so I just HAD to write a fic for it… it had many different title's 'the fall' 'tears stream' 'fix you' 'my mistake' and 'cry cry cry cry' all of which were thought about, especially the last one…. And I decided to go with two,
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P.s, the bits in italic are lyrics from the song. Enjoy…
Chapter 1.
"And the tears come streaming down your face, when you lose something you can't replace, when you love someone but it goes to waste, could it be worse? Lights will guide you ho-"
"John, please, I'm trying to think!" Sherlock shouted from in the living room, he had been crouched over his laptop for about…three days now…
"And I will try…to fix YOU" I shouted at him he rolled his eyes at me "aw, come on Sherlock, it's a fantastic song" I sat down in my armchair and he shot up, and picked up his violin, smiling.
"Sherlock?" I said, he grabbed up his violin from on the sofa beside him and started playing the song I was just singing, he turned and smiled at me again, his smirky look that said john-I-am-taking-the-piss-out-of-you…ha. I shook my head and laughed
When you love someone, but it goes to waste…
I sat and watched for a while, Sherlock had been worrying me lately, he kept talking about a sense of impending doom, I laughed at first, but then (I'm not sure if It was paranoia) this morning, he had gotten a text from moriarty, just a simple 'hello, my dear' (okay, its weird but this is moriarty…) and I had started to feel it too… the whole flat seemed to be alive with a feeling of suspicion, or ending.
But I'm sure it would pass, its not the first time it had happened, living with Sherlock always made me feel sick to my stomach, and parts of the house were suspicious enough… the fridge for example…
Sherlock moved effortlessly, music drifting out around 221B, the gold light of the setting sun streamed through the window, framing Sherlock in an aura of gold, white and black, flashing whenever his arm moved the bow over the strings of the small violin, he was aware john was watching him, he didn't mind, it was a good song, and he played it well. He smiled to himself again, his arm sliding gracefully, he closed his eyes and sighed, calm before the storm he thought.
The lights danced around him as he finished the song and let his arms fall limp, the violin and bow still in his hands, john smiled from behind him as the sun set, the gold dimming and the white turning blue. Like the lights at the end of a show, where the fun stops and the audience are clapping for more, this is who Sherlock Holmes was, an angel, a god he'd been playing the game and now it was about to end… it could…it might…but what if it will?
You're too in love to let it go…
"And lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones, but I will try to fix you…"