All I want for Christmas
Sherlock Fanfic
Post Reichenbach
NOTES: This is a music fan-fiction, and depends heavily on THIS SONG ( http : / youtu. be/nGM2loo_-yc Take out all of the spaces and then send it into yar there interwebs browser) and your own imagination. It's a bit odd, I guess, but at the same time someone has probably already done it. Still, it was in my head, and I had to get it out.
My good friend Hillary helped with some of the writing as well, and made me tear up because I didn't realize how amazing she was as a writer. :D Thank you Hillary!
Can be considered platonic or romantic, but either way, it's all about that Sherlock and John connection.
Hope you enjoy! And please review, because I absolutely adore reviews!
John wasn't looking for the perfect pub to spend Christmas at; any would do, as long as it had the right drinks; the ones that drowned all of his aching thoughts and memories.
Somehow, he'd found his way to a fairly large one. It was a long room with a stage at the end for music and the pub near the doors. It was also crowded, but John didn't mind.
More failed relationships, feeling lonely, and thinking of the one thing he shouldn't be thinking about.
Sherlock.
John plopped down on one of the bar stools and ordered up something heavy. He gave a half glance to the stage, where large groups of people were preparing for a song.
Suddenly a tall, stumbling man with curly ginger hair staggered on to the stage. He perched a black fedora on his head, which covered his eyes (not that John could see any of them that well anyway) and mumbled to the others. He almost reminded him...
John swiveled around back to the bar, frustrated. He asked the bartender to hurry up as politely as he could.
(START SONG)
As his drink slid across the table, calm music started to fill the room. A small applause could be heard.
Violin erupted and soothed every ear in the room. Oh god, this was the last thing he needed. Not to mention the song itself. John refused to look up at the stage, instead with his back turned and huddled over his mug, which he sipped at broodingly.
Sherlock eyed the figure from across the room. Screw distance and safety and plans, he was not allowing John to spend Christmas all alone, and if his violin- Sherlock could always trust his emotions with his violin- couldn't bring them together in some way or sense, he'd damn it all.
Suddenly the music was coming faster, clearer, and closing his eyes, he allowed himself, the deepest part of him, to reach out to that lonely figure huddling over a beer on this god forsaken Christmas eve.
Make my wish come true
All I want for Christmas is you.
John took a larger swig of the drink, but regretted it. It was painful, but if he had to think about anything on Christmas, why not Sherlock? At least his friend wasn't dead- John knew it deep down. Too much of an arrogant git to go and jump off a building and call himself a fake.That wasn't Sherlock.
Suddenly a smile slipped on to his face, and the aching hurt more and less as the violin seemed to say everything for him.
Sherlock could see John turn halfway toward the stage. Was that a smile? Not a happy one, but more bittersweet. Sherlock's deductions weren't the only thing telling him that they were both thinking of each other. He dipped his head as the chorus came back.
He let himself back into the song, with even more feeling than before, tilting his head down to force his longing, piercing gaze away from the Doctor. Lives were still at stake, and he had to keep up his act.
I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
All I want for Christmas is you
Nevertheless, the connection that they had both missed for so long was now in the musty air of the bar. The connection that only they shared; a friendship that was held together with the grip of the violin's strings. The music was digging inch by inch into both of them.
And suddenly everything but John and the music melted away in Sherlock's mind. He himself felt confused; he was letting his emotions overpower him. This was more then he had planned, and yet, he welcomed it all. The longing, the pain, the need and frustration, all trying to aim it at John Watson.
Now John had gone into complete space out mode, staring up at the band in a trance, the music carrying him in his memories, feelings, and emotions.
I just want you for my own
more than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
All I want for Christmas is you…
Sherlock shut his eyes tight, in fear of his act falling apart. But despite every inch of his brain telling him not to, he couldn't help it. He HAD to put everything left of him into the song. He had to let John know, even in the Doctor's subconscious, that their connection still held true. Sherlock realized that he had been more worried about John the whole time, and yet the loneliness that he thought he had been so used to, and once preferred, was suddenly crushingly painful.
John allowed the feelings to come to him, inch by inch. He closed his eyes and imagined Sherlock was the one playing. Aside from the pain it gave him thinking about his best friend, who he'd watched fall to his death, he continued to imagine-harder this time-imagine he and Sherlock back in the flat of 221b; celebrating Christmas together like the tragedy separating them both never came to existence.
Eyes still closed and the familiar music still playing he saw himself sitting in his own arm chair, in the warm flat of Baker Street, surrounded by the mixed scent of chemical experiments and Mrs. Hudson making cinnamon tea in the kitchen, only the wonderful scent he called home, and gazing his eyes to the window he could see Sherlock gracefully playing his violin to the song flowing around in the background of the pub. He saw Sherlock Holmes dressed in his blue, striped robe (John used to joke and call it his "Sulking Robe") twist around, facing John, and allow a warm smile to form on his lips. God, he would give anything to see Sherlock's smile again.
All I want for Christmas…
John felt a tear splash down to his own cheeks. He wiped the falling tears away quickly before anyone else in the pub could notice; he didn't exactly feel like having people come up and give him sympathy while forcing him to tell his "Sob Story"... But he couldn't help it. Just the thought of it- the wild imagination he just had of seeing his best friend by his side once again… it hurt so much; yet gave him so much peace and a hint of shelter.
Sherlock upstage took a short glance to his friend, only to see him - without the use of deduction - wipe tears from his face. Once again, he could feel himself tearing apart. All he wanted to do is drop his everything, run and grab his doctor and pull him into a long, comforting hug…just to tell him that he was alive; that everything was going to be all right. With the urge of breaking down and giving up burning on his own skin like a hot fryer, he kept at it, still keeping the beat of the music with him and with John Watson still on his mind every second of the way.
All I want for Christmas
As he prepared himself for the final note, he gazed out at John. Their eyes locked, and Sherlock shut his eyes to snapshot the moment in his brain. He would never, ever delete it.
The music swelled as John's trance collapsed. Those icy eyes...
Is
You
As a roar of applause erupted as John sat dumbfounded by the hanging memory of a split second.
Sherlock was already running down the alleyway behind the pub, grinning wildly despite everything.
Don't give up, John.
You'll get your wish.