I don't often do songfic, but I've had a bit of a WHO day so I give you Behind Blue Eyes by The Who.
Tell me this doesn't fit the tall man in the Belstaff coat! Either he or Moriarty but the Professor was my first thought and then Sherlock came along and went "No me!" LOL!
No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind Blue Eyes.
Sherlock Holmes the tall, dark sociopath would never let anyone into his life. Not one person, not his mother or brother could ever crack that cold exterior. He was a drug addict, living day to day never planning for his life. He was a disappointment to his family, and after University he had attempted just to vanish, it stopped people attempting to feel sorry for him. He was what he was, a man, a brain, a genius but no one would ever know what he thought of himself.
No one knows what it's like
To be hated
To be fated
To telling only lies
The Police just didn't understand Sherlock Holmes, he was called a freak, they all thought him capable of the most heinous of crimes, but they needed him. He was an excellent actor, but he had to act all the time, he acted the part to victims and criminals a like, dressing and acting in the way most likely to provoke a response. Only in his own rooms was he ever able to act in any other way, and then the lies he told throughout the day, to everyone he ever spoke to ran so deep he was forced to lie even to himself. He didn't need anybody anyway they didn't understand my dreams.
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free
He could never sleep, when he slept his mind was traitorous. He could easily become those criminals he hunted, frankly he was no different from any of them, just cleverer. Alone in his bed at night, his mind would wander the faces of those people he helped, or didn't throughout the day came swimming back to him. The people he hurt trying to get information, the people he insulted, the people he ignored and worse those he couldn't save came back to him. He was married to the work, through the work, through torturing his body he could stop the dreams stop the bad thoughts, and best of all forget his past.
No one knows what it's like
To feel these feelings
Like I do
And I blame you
Then John Watson came into his life, he had his life compartmentalized. The person behind his eyes, and the cold sociopath everyone else saw. Within hours of moving in with Dr Watson, those two worlds had started to blur. John didn't seem to realize how that carefully constructed barricade worked, he didn't even seem to see it, and he just walked through. Now he hated him for it, how dare this ordinary man get so close to him, that he started feeling for him? Worry, and friendship and all sorts of feelings that in Sherlock's head had been lost for years, all started coming back.
No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through
Then came Moriarty, and the pool and Sherlock realized how badly it showed. He had been unguarded and his feelings had shown through, and that had put John in danger. He had been to quick to anger then forgive, he had been concerned for his friend and Moriarty had used that. Then everyone knew, Mycroft knew, Mummy knew even the police knew and his barricades were all down. That's when he was at his most vulnerable and all those things his sociopath shell had kept out, started flooding back into his life, a tsunami of my dreams.
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free
Poor John, didn't know what had hit him. His friend had survived a bombing, and returned to Baker Street with him, but now at night he was a different man. Screaming nightmares and explosive anger peppered their evenings. John had been told he suffered from PTSD, but after the Pool it became very clear that his friend was actually the one suffering. The darkness in his friend's soul came out at night, and the reason for the insomnia was now very clear.
When my fist clenches, crack it open
Before I use it and lose my cool
When I smile, tell me some bad news
Before I laugh and act like a fool
John had become Sherlock's security blanket and conscience all rolled into one. When he saw the darkness wash over him it was now John's job to distract him from it. Whether it was with a case, or a tale or sometimes, horror against horrors with a hug. John would never know what caused the true darkness in Sherlock Holme's soul but his role now, and ever would be to stop it coming out and consuming the genius entirely.
If I swallow anything evilNow he was trying to stop the genius killing himself, either by accident or design. Sherlock didn't seem to care what experiments got mixed up with food and John couldn't always be sure that it was unconscious. The genius wouldn't sleep, wouldn't eat and experimented on himself. The Doctor was forever rescuing his friend's physical body as his brain neglected it entirely, he would chase out into the snow after a suspect and if John hadn't been their he would have frozen to death.
Put your finger down my throat
If I shiver, please give me a blanket
Keep me warm, let me wear your coat
No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes
However John Watson was probably the closest.
OK, what did you think?
I liked it!
Lol
Pls Review
Jas xx