fleetingmadness: (john motherfucking watson)
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part ii: coming together.

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It shouldn’t have been as shocking as it was, but it still shook John’s entire foundation.

He is staring at his flat mate, nearly shaking with rage. “Don’t make people into heroes, John. Heroes don’t exist, and if they did, I wouldn’t be one of them,” Sherlock said, looking at John in that way he does when he knows he’s being horrible. He knows it, and he’s not sorry. John continues staring as Sherlock checks that damn phone. He grits his teeth and tries to count to ten backwards in his head, but he can’t get past seven. He hangs his head and closes his eyes, wishing that, for just one bloody moment, Sherlock would act human and realize that John has no reason to stay. He could walk out the door right then and never come back. He looks up and catches Sherlock staring.

“Oh, you’re angry with me,” he says. “Not much cop, this caring lark.” He turns his attention back to the phone and the case and John just continues to stare. He watches Sherlock, his fingers tapping away at the keys on his phone, his face giving away nothing but intent. He will solve this case. He will say something brilliant and John will forgive him like he always does, stuck in that seemingly constant state of admiration-bordering-on-adoration.

It hits him. He can feel it weighing on his shoulders and pressing into his spine.

He couldn’t leave even if he tried. And he would never try. Sherlock brought him back to life, and he wouldn’t give this up for anything.

John rolls his shoulders and shakes off the feeling, moving to sit on the couch and help his infuriatingly silent friend save some poor sod’s life.

| TIMSHEL - mumford & sons.
and i will tell the night, whisper, "lose your sight." but i can't move mountains for you.

| THE FALLEN - franz ferdinand.
i only have a problem when people insist on taking their hate and placing it on your name. some say you're trouble, boy, just because you like to destroy. you are the word, and the word is 'destroy.' i break this bottle and think of you fondly.

| THE ADVENTURE - angels and airwaves.
i want to have the same last dream again: the one where i wake up and i'm alive, just as the four walls close me within, my eyes are opened up with pure sunlight. // if you're gonna fall, i'll let you know that i will pick you up like you for i. i felt this thing i can't replace.

| FROM NOW ON WE ARE ENEMIES - fall out boy.
"i just want to better than your head's only medicine." a downward spiral, just a pirouette. getting worse 'til there's nothing left. what good comes from something when i'm just the ghost of nothing? i'm just the man on the balcony singing, "nobody will ever remember me." rejoice, rejoice, and fall to your knees; (for a) lunatic of god or god of a lunatic

“I’ve disappointed you.”

“Good, that’s a good deduction. Yeah.”

Sherlock tries to pretend that doesn’t hurt, but it really kind of does.

It hurts a lot less when John says, “Fantastic,” and smiles at him in that way he does when he thinks he’s said something absurdly brilliant.

“Meretricious,” Sherlock replies. And that’s the way it goes.

Sherlock makes John angry by being himself. Minutes later, he leaves John in awe by being himself. Sometimes it’s really confusing and Sherlock doesn’t really know what John thinks of him. He wonders if John is only there because he needs a thrill or if he genuinely enjoys Sherlock’s company. He can usually read people in an instant, but John Watson is as close to a mystery as Sherlock has ever encountered.

His own feelings, however, aren’t nearly as mysterious. He enjoys John’s company very much. They have a similar sense of humor, something he can’t say for Mycroft or Lestrade. John is quite smart when he really tries, and he’s definitely useful. He’s protective, something that delights Mycroft a bit more than it does Sherlock, but he appreciates it nonetheless. The flat has a certain air of domesticity when John is home, and Sherlock likes that feeling more than he would ever let on. It’s actually kind of nice to have someone to have conversations with that are more than just insults and thinly veiled threats.

“I think I’m happy,” he mumbles one day, brow furrowed.

Mycroft raises an eyebrow and scoffs, “You think? Sherlock, I’ve never seen you smile this much in my life.”

Sherlock narrows his eyes and plucks another string, smirking at Mycroft’s annoyed wince.

| USE IT - the new pornographers.
if there's a choice between change and flight, choose it tonight. you had to send a wrecking crew after me; i can't walk right.

| LONELY LONELY - feist.
maybe, maybe they'll stay true. my seeds will cross and then take root, and leave you in an empty room. lonely, lonely, that is you. // how will you reach out to me? i thought you'd ask me not to leave. lonely, lonely, that is me.

the handshake's stuck on the tip of my tongue; it tastes like death and looks like fun. i was a loner, i was just waiting by myself, when you, warped temptress, rose to bring me happiness and wealth.

| GODREVY POINT - patrick wolf.
good lord, it was a beautiful day for untangling, unraveling my heavy heart away. to forgive and forget myself and my enemies, my bruises washed away. today was the day i first said, "i belong."


{ part one | part two | part three | part four }


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