Brandi laid stretched out on one of the two couches staring at the morning news at five AM the following morning. A hot cup of tea sat steaming on the coffee table, and a plate of jam on toast sat next to that. She didn't need to be at work for another four hours, so she was still jamming the good 'ole sweat pants and t-shirt.
Brandi rolled her eyes as the reports went to some crap about politics. She rolled off the couch and walked over to the keyboard. It had been a long time, to long actually, since Brandi had gotten to play. Brandi sat down on the stool and started playing a personal favorite of her's (Carry On My Wayward Son by Kansas).
But, what most people didn't know about Brandi Preston was not only did she play the piano, she also sang. And, if she was allowed to say so, she wasn't to bad.
"Carry on my wayward son," Brandi's voice echoed through the flat, "there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more."
John had woken up from a nightmare. It was from the Fall, of course. Whenever he had nightmares nowadays, it wasn't ever about Afghanistan, it was always about the Fall. As he drank his morning tea in silence, the sudden echo of someone singing reached the flat.
"Once I rose above the noise and confusion, just to get a glimpse behind this illusion. I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high." John rose to his feet and slowly walked over to the front door. "Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man, though my mind could think I still was a mad man. I hear the voices when I'm dreaming, I can hear them say..."
Sherlock shuffled into the room, an annoyed look on his face. His hair was sticking out in every possible way. It is rather adorable-get a grip Watson! John thought to himself. Why on Earth was he having these kinds of thoughts about Sherlock? It certainly wasn't normal that was for sure."
"What's that noise?" Sherlock grumbled.
John listened for the singing again. "Masquerading as a man with a reason, my charade is the event of the season. And if I claim to be a wise man, well, it surely means that I don't know."
John's eyebrows raised. "Singing," he said.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Well that was rather obvious, now wasn't it?" he asked sarcastically.
John sighed and shook his head. "So who do you think's singing at five in the morning?" he wondered.
"Well if Mrs. Hudson could sing like that I'd nominate her for an Emmy," Sherlock sighed, flopping rather gracefully onto the sofa. "So I'd say it's Brandi. Ah, the process of elimination!"
John smirked and bit and sat down in his arm chair. "My new girlfriend can sing and play the piano," he bragged. Sherlock scoffed. "What?" John asked.
"Well she's hardly your girlfriend yet!" Sherlock exclaimed. John glared at him. "I mean, one lunch and an awkward family dinner doesn't exactly make you two a couple, does it?"
"I dunno, does it?" John asked, annoyed.
Sherlock scoffed again. "If that makes two people a couple then we are practically married, John!"
John raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry."
Sherlock ignored John and kept rambling, "Of course I've never seen a ring before so I think we'd still be "boyfriends"."
"We aren't a couple, Sherlock."
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Well I know that. Obviously. You've stated that you aren't gay on multiple occasions. And you are always quick to mention how we "aren't a couple". I don't need to be told that."
John looked at Sherlock curiously. He almost seemed...sad about the concept of John being a straight man. Or by the fact that he and Brandi were now dating. It was definitely odd. And what was with the whole "of course I've never seen a ring before so I think we'd still be boyfriends" thing?
John sighed and focused back on Brandi's singing, "Carry on, you will always remember. Carry on, nothing equals the splendor. Now your life's no longer empty, surely heaven waits for you. Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry. Don't you cry no more. No more!"