Pale Blue Eyes
Chapter 3
John woke up feeling half-starved. He got up from a 9-hour sleep - the longest he'd slept in weeks - and raided the kitchen, making himself eggs, bacon, sausages, mushrooms, baked beans and fried toast with black coffee and a glass of orange juice. It was while he was eating his full fry-up that he realised he had barely eaten a morsel since the funeral, almost a week ago…
Had it only been a week? It felt like much longer, weeks before, months even. John sighed, feeling cold with Sherlock with him in the flat. He missed the chaotic mess covering the place; it felt empty with all that clutter Sherlock had strewn about. Everything all tidied up felt totally foreign now, plus he couldn't find anything anymore.
He remembered he wanted to email Lestrade about the eulogy he'd given at the funeral, tell him how good it was and how much Sherlock would have appreciated it. He would have appreciated it really, inside. To others he would have made some derisive, sarcastic comment but there would have been pride and gratitude in his eyes. John smiled at this, constructing this image in his mind.
He finished his breakfast, washed up and went to sit at his newly organised desk, turning on his laptop. Once it was logged in and fully loaded, he clicked on the Microsoft Outlook icon and getting up to make a cup of tea while it loaded. (Disclaimer: real product, bleh)
Once returning with a mug of tea and a couple of biscuits, still a touch peckish despite his large meal, he checked his Inbox. One email from his mother asking how he was, three from Lestrade, several notifications from his blog comments and one that looked out of place, sent at 4.28 am that morning: .uk - Hey, bro
John frowned and clicked on it, reading the email
Subject: Hey bro
From: Watson, Harry
Sent: Today, 04:28 am
Hey, John
I know we haven't spoken in a while, just wanted to tell you I've made up with Clara. It's still pretty shit but we're working on it, and I've been sober now for two months and three days.
Anyway, I found this song and thought you'd like it, from your teenage years.
I hope you'll read this and reply, I miss you bro
Talk to mum, she's worried about you.
All the best
Harry
Attachments: PBE_Velvet_ 3
John clicked on this item to download the file, and it eventually came up on his iTunes. He turned his laptop speakers on and sat back to listen. Soft music started and he vaguely recognised the riff.
Sometimes I feel so happy,
Sometimes I feel so sad.
Sometimes I feel so happy,
But mostly you just make me mad.
Baby, you just make me mad.
Linger on, your pale blue eyes.
Linger on, your pale blue eyes.
John's eyes widened then burned with tears, his mind filling with Sherlock.
Thought of you as my mountain top,
Thought of you as my peak.
Thought of you as everything,
I've had but couldn't keep.
I've had but couldn't keep.
Linger on, your pale blue eyes.
Linger on, your pale blue eyes.
If I could make the world as pure and strange as what I see,
I'd put you in the mirror,
I put in front of me.
I put in front of me.
Linger on, your pale blue eyes.
Linger on, your pale blue eyes.
Skip a life completely.
Stuff it in a cup.
She said, Money is like us in time,
It lies, but can't stand up.
Down for you is up.
Linger on, your pale blue eyes.
Linger on, your pale blue eyes.
It was good what we did yesterday.
And I'd do it once again.
The fact that you are married,
Only proves, you're my best friend.
But it's truly, truly a sin.
Linger on, your pale blue eyes.
Linger on, your pale blue eyes.
"Shit…" John gasped, breaking down into sobs.
He sat there for almost two hours, putting the song on repeat and crying. After calming himself down, he put the song on his iPhone in a playlist he named Sherlock. He then set about replying to his sister, feel intent to right all wrong between them - just so he had someone to talk to. He told her everything that had happened since he left the army. Meeting Sherlock, moving into Baker Street, all the different mysteries they dealt with and finally he got to the day Sherlock died. He stared at the screen, the vertical line flashing steadily as the laptop waited for him to continue typing. He sighed and thought about it, trying to decide the best way to put it. He was fairly sure Harry knew he was gay - not that there would be any prejudice from his sister - but he did wonder if he should put how he felt about Sherlock.
I got a call saying our landlady, Mrs Hudson, had been shot. I went to see her, Sherlock stayed behind which really pissed me off. I got to the flat and found her totally fine, that's when I realised what was happening and went straight back to the hospital. I rang him and he was on the roof.
John stopped, forcing himself to relive those terrible moments and his last conversation with the man he loved.
He said our conversation was his note… 'That's what people do isn't it? Leave notes…' he said. He said Moriarty - the guy who caused all of this - had gunmen on me and two of our friends.
He thanked me for putting up with him, like it was such a chore. I loved him and loved me - that was all that mattered. He'd never been loved before, I was the first one to tell him I loved him, not even his parents or brother ever said they loved him. I'm glad I could do that for him, I feel sort of honoured to be the only one, even if he didn't see it that way. When we first met, he told me he was married to his work (he thought I was coming on to him, haha) but that never really stopped us - we never went all the way though…I kind of wish we had...
I really miss him, I even miss his midnight violin playing and the human tongues in the fridge (don't ask). He was the best friend I have ever had and I don't think I'll ever have a better one. I loved him and he loved me…that's all the mattered.
Well, anyway, that's enough from me. I miss you too, Harry, I hope we can talk more - keep going with Clara you two were great. Thanks for the phone, by the way - it was what got me Sherlock.
I'll call mum tomorrow, thanks
All the best
John
He sighed and sent it, smiling slightly. He did miss his sister, even if they never really got on. Without Sherlock, he felt alone. Sure he had Lestrade and Mrs Hudson as his other close friends but they didn't understand. He hoped he could gain a new ally in his sister; maybe it would make things easier…
Aww
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PMKnut xx
