Nights like these were the ones Sherlock couldn't stand to be in the flat. Where he couldn't stand to be in the same room as that armchair, the one where John always used to sit. He couldn't bring himself to get rid of it, either. Instead, he'd just walk. Walk right out of 221B and into the streets of London.
Sherlock wandered, singing quietly to himself-
On my own, pretending he's beside me
he loved to sing. He didn't think he was any good at it-
All alone, I walk with him 'till morning
meaning he hadn't sang in front of John ever. But once, John was walking past the bathroom as Sherlock showered-
Without him, I feel his arms around me
and afterwards he made sure to mention that Sherlock's rendition of Music of the Night gave him chills.
And if I lose my way I close my eyes and he has found me
Sherlock didn't hate Mary, or the life John had chosen-
In the rain, the pavements shine like silver
he just wished he could see more of John, because sometimes John cared for Sherlock-
All the lights, are misty in the river
in ways Sherlock couldn't even care for himself.
In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight
Just small moments in the flat, small moments were what Sherlock treasured-
And all I see is him and me forever and forever
like when John would quietly ask 'Is there anything I can do?' and he'd just shake his head.
Sherlock was happy for John-
I love him, but every day I'm learning
or at least he tried to tell himself that.
All my life, I've only been pretending
He told himself many lies when John was gone-
Without me, his world will go on turning
that he was ok, that it was normal to be this upset when a good friend left you.
I love him, I love him,
I love him
But only on my own