Prompt 25: Guarantee
A/N Halfway! It's utterly insane that so many of you are still here with me 25 chapters later and I just want to thank you all for everything! I'm trying an AU (in which Sherlock is a guitar player and frontman of a band) teen!lock and song fic this time so that's new. I was thinking that I will leave the prompt for the next chapter at the end and then you guys (my lovely readers) can recommend what you want to see happen eg. What character, an AU, Drunk!John anything you can think of and I'll do it. Enough chatter though and on to the fic!

Sherlock was tired, exhausted in fact. It wasn't surprising, he was always tired these days, he was playing a different venue every night, travelling the world, and trying desperately not to fall for the band's resident medic. It was tiring stuff for anyone, especially a teenager. Every night he had thousands of girls and guys screaming their adoration at him, singing along to his own low voice and crying as he crooned softly to them while strumming the guitar. That was the dream for most musicians, and it was fantastic until he had to actually talk to his fans. He couldn't stand people, they were so incredibly boring. Most of the time he stayed in his room, composed and people watched through the window of the tourbus or whatever hotel they stayed in. As a general rule he avoided spending any time outside of rehearsals and sound checks with the other members of the band. It was easier that way, stepping on people's toes was something that came naturally to him but quite frankly he didn't have the patience to find new members and therefore he couldn't piss the current ones off.

As for the medic well... He was a different story all together. His name was John and he was ex military, something that Sherlock's manager/brother Mycroft had decided was a bonus when he hired him. It was the only action he had undertaken Sherlock was remotely grateful for,the hiring of John Watson. The first time they met Sherlock had been feeling petulant, he didn't need a nursemaid and he wanted him gone, and the fastest way to make him go would be to deduce him. So he did, spouting about his injury in the war, psychosematic limp, his relationship with his family, financial security, everything he could see down to the last blow about his alcoholic brother. And when he was finished he waited for the yelling, sputtering, anger in general. John had stared open mouthed at him for a few moments and then broke the silence. "That, was brilliant. Truly amazing." Sherlock was completely shocked and his eyes flew to John's face, he was genuinely amazed. Sherlock smirked and began walking off "That's not what people usually say" John was at his side once more "What do they usually say?" Sherlock grinned emphatically "Piss off" and that was the first time he made John smile.

He began looking forward to crashing into him backstage during shows, catching sidelong glances of John mouthing along to his songs from the sidelines as he sang them. After a few weeks he asked John to hang out with him in his room, they had become closer over time and the bus was empty anyway, they were heading out to London and seeing as the rest of the guys had family there they left earlier to stay with them. John accepted his invitation to ride with him in an instant, flashing one of his signature smiles. Sherlock knew that he was failing miserably in his efforts to deny any feelings he had for John, he couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly that made him feel anything at all for him except the fact that he was John. Of course he couldn't just outright say anything, John might not even be gay and that would be awkward for them both. He sighed and flopped back onto the bed, fingers picking idly at his guitar. A soft melody began to flow from his fingertips and he quickly picked up a notepad and scribbled down the chords, humming along while thinking up lyrics.

There was a soft knock on the door and he knew it was John. "Come in" he called, still writing furiously. John tiptoed inside and smiled down at Sherlock's sprawled form. "What are you up to then Sherlock?" he asked jovially, settling into a chair. Sherlock looked up for a moment and half smiled tiredly "Writing..." he trailed off, staring intensely at John and then going back to his page. John looked at him with concern, he sounded so serious and it seemed like John should be the same. "Well can I hear what you have so far?" John asked nervously, wondering if he was overstepping. Sherlock froze for a moment and then sat up so his legs were against John's. He didn't move away. God if John only knew how many mornings he had spent in this exact position, wondering if there was any point in hoping at all, constantly hurting himself just by watching John have a life outside of him. It hurt, God did it hurt "You were the one who inspired it so..." Sherlock muttered gently to himself before clearing his throat and righting the instrument on his lap. Softly he began to sing "Ooooooh here I go again, walking the line, killing time between my sins, Ooooooh why do I come here? The endings still the same I'm bringing back old tears, I act like I don't knoooow, where this road will gooooo, Pour me something stronger, pour me something straight, all these crooked voices make them go away, I can barely stand up, I can hardly breathe, pour me something stronger than me, pour me something stronger than me" Sherlock's voice was smooth and melodic, but the lyrics were saturated with pain and loss and every time his eyes would rise to meet John's he'd feel his heartbeat in his mouth. Without knowing it they had shuffled closer, Sherlock now sat between John's legs on the edge of the bed and John's hand was on his leg, holding him. He sang on "Pour me something stronger, pour me something dark, pour it up so high, till I can't feel my heart, I can barely stand up, I can hardly breathe, pour me something stronger than me, hmmmmmmmmmm" He strummed the final bar and fell into silence. "Sherlock that was... Beautiful." John said quietly into the silence between them.

Sherlock smiled sadly and shrugged. "Do you play?" he asked, knowing the answer, he'd seen it in the shredded tips of his fingers but wanting to expel the heavy silence crashing on them. John held out a hand and Sherlock passed the guitar over, taking in their intimate position with a blush. "What should I play?" John asked, hoping for a specific song but knowing Sherlock he wouldn't get that. "Play a song that makes you think of someone you know" Sherlock decided after contemplating the request for a second. John nodded and swallowed his fear because he was going to play a song that reminded him of Sherlock, or rather what he wished he could say without feeling like an idiot and being rejected because that was what would happen in the end. "I can't guarantee this will be any good but here goes" John took a deep breath and Sherlock stared unabashed at him as he began to sing. "I've gone for too long living like I'm not alive, so I'm gonna start over tonight, beginning with you and I, when this memory fades I'm gonna make sure it's replaced with chances taken, hope embraced, and have I told you, I'm not going, cuz I've been waiting for a miracle and I'm not leaving, I won't let you, let you give up on a miracle, cuz it might save you..." John sang on and on, getting progressively more confident, staring into Sherlock's eyes by the time he came to the final part of the song "It's not faith if you use your eyes,if you use your eyes, oh if you use your eyes" he trailed off and they sat staring at each other again, wondering if the songs had been about them, hoping the songs were about them. John cleared his throat and his tongue flicked out across his lower lip, and it was all that Sherlock could look at. He shook his head to clear the rest of the images that brought with it and decided to be brave.

"Who was it about?" he asked watching as the slow creep of pink coloured John's cheeks. He coughed a little and looked away before responding "You" he said softly "Was what you wrote..." he didn't have to say it. "Yes." Sherlock answered. John shuffled a bit and smirked. "Sherlock?" "Yes?" And he leaned into his face, tongue across Sherlock's lip instead and Sherlock opened his mouth, giving John all the permission he was asking for, and groaning into his mouth as his hands wrapped possessively around his back and neck, pushing their bodies together. In minutes later he had a lap full of John and his neck was being licked and sucked by him while he moaned wantonly into the empty bus. "I -ughhh- take it this means we're -oh- together?" John slid back up to his lips and surged into him "If that's what you want" Sherlock smirked and nodded, allowing John to go back to ravaging his mouth.

In later years, Every time that they had something they couldn't express in words they would meet back there, in the bus, and sing to each other, and when the band split up they took the armchair and the bed with them to their apartment. Sometimes when the other couldn't sleep they would sing softly into their ear and watch as they relaxed into their arms again, and when, many years later, there was only one of them left, having sung him to sleep for the final time, Sherlock sang to John's headstone every night, knowing that somewhere out there, John was singing too.

*Song one that Sherlock sings is "Something stronger than me" from Nashville
Song two that John sings is "Miracle" by paramore and the next prompt is "Help"