Chapter 1

Why am I even here... I thought as I wandered through the archway to the stadium. I don't even like punk music.

Unfortunately my friend Mike did, and as a result of him winning 2 free tickets and having no girlfriend to take instead, I got dragged along. I didn't even know what band it was!

"Come on, mate! We're going to miss the opening song!" Mike yelled over the din of the other concert goers, grabbing a fistful of my shirt and dragging me behind him. To be honest, Mike looked a bit ridiculous, his faux leather jacket too tight on his larger form, and multiple fake piercings about to fall off his ears. He couldn't get real ones, no matter how much he wanted them, because of his job. I felt like I was the only normal person here, wearing regular jeans and a t-shirt in a sea of leather and ripped denim.

We made our way in the dim lights to our seats, elbowing our way through the teens standing in the middle of the bloody aisle cough cough. I don't know how Mike got free tickets this good, but they were in the pit, right in front of the stage, with all the hardcore fans willing to pay this much to get close to a band.

The setup team already had the backdrop up behind the stage. It was a plain white banner, with the band name written in plain black letters across it. Baker Street was the name of the band we were seeing, apparently.

The lights began to dim, and the voices began to get louder with the screams of anticipation for the band about to go on. Spotlights turned on to reveal an entirely white stage, white instruments, and the band members in white clothes. The drummer, bassist, and guitarists were all there, but the place in the center of the stage, where the mic stand was placed for the lead singer, was empty.

"Dude, where's the singer?" I called to Mike.

"Ooh, just you wait. He'll come." Mike chuckled with a suspicious looking smile.

Just then, a smaller stage began to lower from the ceiling, with a six-foot-tall gorgeous man standing on it. It sank to the floor, and he stepped from it with a casual grace that took my breath away. He too was dressed in all white, but his shirt was ripped, revealing a smooth stomach and skin almost as pale as the shirt he was wearing. His white jeans were skinny and clung to his equally thin, long legs.

Mike glanced at me, and nearly burst out laughing at my face. I never was good at hiding my emotions. And his voice. God help me, it was like the voice of an angle.

It was wavering and lilting as he belted the song lyrics through a vintage-style mic. Song after song he sang, and the rest of his band was glistening with sweat; but not that man.

"Do you know his name?" I shouted over the screaming fans and brilliant speaker quality.

"The lead singer? Name's Sherlock Holmes!" Mike yelled.

Interesting name... I thought to myself. But the music wasn't half bad, so I listened and let the bass pound in my chest and reverb through my whole body. I had always liked the feeling, like your whole body was trembling with power, your heart letting the deep bass sweep through it and make it tremble.

The song faded out, the instruments going silent. Then Sherlock began to softly sing the intro to a new song, crooning with his deep voice. The drums started, tapping out a beat to the words he was singing. The guitar started plucking a simple 4-note stanza on repeat, adding music to the song the way an artist ads color to a sketch.

The instruments stopped, letting Sherlock's voice sing out what seemed like the last note of the song, letting the key hang in the air.

Then the drums, guitar, bass and Sherlock all began at once, louder, with power where there had been only soul before. The reason why they were all wearing white was revealed: canons in front of the stage erupted, shooting different colors of paint all over the stage and band members, coating them in a rainbow. Sherlock kept singing, his voice screaming emotions onto the crowd. It seemed like he was singing a part of his soul away into the audience.

I stood there in awe. Who was this man, who could be calm and rage, soul and spirit, water and fire all at once, just by singing into a microphone?

I noticed Mike looking at me, a childish smirk on his face. The song faded out, and the screaming of the fans intensified so I could barely form a thought.

"Now you see what I mean when I say this is the best band I've ever heard." Mike chuckled.

Then Sherlock actually began to speak.

"Hello..." was all he got out before the audience started screaming to hard and loud it was like I could feel the force pushing at my back.

"Wow... I think it's safe to say you lot enjoyed the performance then." He chuckled. "Unfortunately, we've only got one last song in the set." He shrugged apologetically. "I just wanted to let you guys know that Baker Street appreciates you lot coming out and seeing us tonight, and to be sure to do it again."

Then he stepped back and picked up a guitar that had been leaning against the side of the stage. It was a simple black acoustic, and because it had been leaning off to the side, it didn't have any paint on it. Sherlock picked it up, and grabbed a towel that had been tossed to him from a band-mate. After wiping his face off and setting down the towel, he sat down on a metal fold-up chair that had been brought on stage.

"This song goes out to... an old friend of mine." Sherlock sighed into the microphone. He began to strum a simple melody onto the guitar, his fingers lithely jumping from chord to chord. It was amazing how his music could be both soft as water and sharp as rocks all at once.

When the song was over, there was no goodbye, no final farewell. He just stood up and walked off the stage, leaving his band-mates to wave to the crowd.

"I decided to leave something as a surprise, John. We also get to go backstage and meet with the band." Mike leaned in and told me, as the last trickles of applause died out.

"Really? It's only my first time seeing them, I'm going to sound like an idiot if I say anything..." I raised my eyebrows at my large friend.

"Oh, relax. Sherlock is the only one you might have to worry about being embarrassing around. All the others are way more chill." He said, walking around to the side of the stage and flashing our passes at the guard.

"Thanks for being so reassuring." I said. Especially when, for some reason, Sherlock was the person I wanted to impress the most.

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Sup? This is my first story on here since, like, 2011 or something. I hope ya'll like it. I thought it sounded good in my head, at least. Any reviews will assist in making sure I actually update this thing.

Word of advise about me: I have never ever in my entire life finished a story I've started. Just a warning.

but, I'll try to promise, if it seems like people are actually reading this shit, then I'll update it. I don't really have a schedule right now, just when ever I get a laptop with decent Wi-Fi.

also, the reason it's R-rated is because I'm planning on writing some smut/slash/lemons/whatever you want to call it later on, when, as we all know will happen, John and Sherlock get together. just fyi.

hopefully my 45 or so followers from pre-7th grade will see me posting something and get excited... maybe maybe... my writing style has probably changed, but hopefully for the better.

anyhoodles, this AN has gone on for a long time, so i'll let anyone who actually reads things get on with their life, and comment on my story.