See right through me - Johnlock

Chapter 21 - Gentle songs

Chapter 21

Gentle Songs

Although John missed the action and excitement of the war, it haunted him to an extent. The crys of the wounded and stillness of the dead as they lay wide eyed on the ground.

Nightmare were what he feared most, the nightmare that came from his days in the army.

Sherlock knew this, he could see the doctors glazed over eyes as he came downstairs every morning. The way his would grip his chair when he napped. They way his leg twitch as he saw the horrors of war and battle.

It frightened Sherlock. His poor flatmate was never quite at ease. The bags under his eyes never seemed to fade and his worry lines only deepened.

It was a cold winter night and Sherlock couldn't sleep. He sat by the window and watched the lights pass on the street.

He watched the way people just walked through the streets without a care. All of them unaware of the death that awaits them at the end of it all. The cars all hurried by, wanting to get there first, where ever there was.

Sherlocked sighed. If only he could feel like a normal human for once. What would it be like? To not care, to not observe and deduce your surroundings. How did these people survive? None of it made sence to him.

He was about to play his violin softly but was distracted by a disgruntled huff from John's bedroom. He slowly climbed the stairs, avoiding the ones that creaked. Every so gently he peered around the door.

John was laying on his back, spread out like a starfish. His hands were clenched into fists and one leg was slightly bent. His white duvet was on the floor. Sherlock could see the ugly scar on John shoulder as John's top fell off his shoulder.

John's face was pale in the moonlight from the window. His eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth in a perminent frown. His brows furrowed as his winced.

It was all too much for Sherlock to bear. He raced down stairs and picked up his violin. He had a theory.

He returned to John's room but didn't step inside. He opened the door so he could just see John's terrorfied face. He placed the instrument under his chin and began to play softly.

The music was enough to clear Sherlocks mind so perhaps it would calm the sleeping John.

Sherlock was right. The gentle song floated in the air like a feather as it danced through the other wise silent house. It was like a stream of clear water amoung a desserted land of sand and rubble.

John's face began to ease and his hands relaxed. His face softened and he almost looked happy...

Sherlock continued to play well into the early hours of the morning.

From the night onwards, Sherlock played for John every night. Even if John didn't know it, Sherlock was the reason he could finaly leave the past behind him and move on.

A/N. Sorry for late updates guys but I'm doing my best. On another note, 381 reads and 8 votes is amazing! I can't put into words how greatful I am to all that have voted and commented!

Love you all my little Beneducks! ~ C