A/N: Sorry I haven't undated…shit went down. If you wanna know PM me. If not..don't.
Just one thing, I know I had had requests, but I wanna write this chapter then I will cover the requests.
The song is "Whistling in the Dark" by They Might Be Giants. It's me and Megan's favourite song by them. It's so dark and funny and brilliant. Give it a go.
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"A woman came up to me and said, "I'd like to poison your mind, with wrong ideas that appeal to you, though I am not unkind,""
John and Sherlock were sitting in John's bedroom. They wanted to be alone, and John still had the key to his house. Harry was getting out of prison in two weeks.
Sherlock, before you became deaf, what was your favourite song?
Sherlock was surprised at the random question, but he answered nonetheless.
I didn't usually listen to songs. I listened to classical, if anything.
Oh, cool.
"She looked at me, I looked at something written across her scalp, and these are the words it faintly said as I tried to call for help,"
Sherlock sensed John wanted him to ask him the same question.
What about you, John?
"There's only one thing that I know how to do well, and I've often been told you can only do what you know how to do well, and that's be you,"
John shifted on the couch. They had been lying, John with his back on Sherlock's stomach, Sherlock with his arms around him, but he'd moved to talk to him, and now they both sat with their legs crossed facing each other.
Me? When I was six, before…the incident, my dad used to always play obscure bands with weird names like, "Congratulations on your decision to become a pilot,", "The Aquabats" and "They Might Be Giants," and so on. There was one song by "They Might Be Giants" called, "Whistling in the Dark," and it was so weird and fun and catchy. I loved it. It was dads favourite too, before he and mum began travelling.
"Be what you're like, be like yourself,"
That's lovely. You don't talk about your parents much. Sherlock said. He knew it was a touchy subject, and he tried to step carefully.
Neither do you.
"And so I'm having a wonderful time, but I'd rather be whistling in the dark,"
Sherlock paused, what is there to say?
John shrugged, tell me about you're mother. When will she get back?
Sherlock froze, she won't be coming back.
What do you mean?
My mother unfortunately passed away two months ago.
John's expression changed between confused, to shock, to horror. He leapt across the bed (His neck chest was removed last week, making the leapt rather easy. He pulled Sherlock into a hug. Sherlock pulled back.
John, what are you doing?
Sherlock, I am so sorry, why didn't you tell me?
You had enough on your mind John. I didn't need your sympathy. It's in the past; I'd rather we didn't dwell on it.
John frowned, but reluctantly agreed. Sherlock was showing no emotion, so he didn't push the subject.
Sherlock suddenly felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Sighing heavily, he pulled it out, and read it.
Sherlock. We need to talk about something. You and John have to come home right away. –MH
Does this involve John? –SH
No. –MH
Why can't you tell me now? –SH
It's very important. –MH
Tell me now. –SH
Stop being so difficult, Sherlock –MH
Mycroft. –SH
Fine. –MH
I have discovered a way to recover your hearing, Sherlock. –MH
A/N: PLOT TWIST!