rough ashes ;; johnlock

Chapter seven - Christmas special :)

I hate myself
I hate myself
I hate myself
but I'll stay alive
just for him
a.n

Sherlock looked outside the window, the warmth of his breath crystallising the air. He could see his breath, in small wisps of smoke that floated around and faded away slowly.

It was the eve of Christmas, the streets already strolling with the sweet melody of voices. The atmosphere was cheery, probably the most happiest they had been for the past months. Outside was strung with bunches of glittering mistletoe its leaves seemed to have a certain speciality. Patterns seemed to crawl and decorate them, leaving them looking refutably intriguing.

"Hey," John's voice sounded behind him.

"Oh, ah, yes, hi."

"It's beautiful isn't it." Said John, "The sky, the snow, Christmas." And it's just like you, John wanted to say out loud. It has the same beauty as you, they had the same sort of inception, that made John want to grab him by the face, and kiss him.

"It is."

"What's wrong Sherlock,"

"Nothing," he turned away from the window and smiled, his brilliant multi coloured eyes, shining. "Autumn or Minuet?" He asked picking up his violin, placing the bow on the straining strings.

"Minuet."

"Excellent," as soon as the quiver of music erupted from the violin, it was as if, John, right then and now, wanted to forever be inside the music, flow with it, stay with it, with Sherlock.

"Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful," just like you, though John, just like you.

***
The house was buzzing with activity, there was music and laughter.

Sherlock nodded

"George?"

"Greg, Merry Christmas mate,"

People continued to try to talk to him. But all he wanted was one person to wish him a Merry Christmas, and his whole life would get just that tiny bit better.

No, instead for the umpteenth time, we was interrupted. It's wasn't the fact that he didn't appreciate the random "Merry Christmas's" or everyone's marvellous attempt to engage him in conversations, it was the fact that, that one person, whom he cared an awful lot about didn't seem to recognise him.

"Hi, erm, Sherlock,"

Again Sherlock sighed .

Molly Hooper had been watching him play, his bow dancing over the strings, almost as if he was playing the piano, just in a more complex way.

"Molly, hi um, merry Christmas," he stopped for a second to smile and Molly, then resumed to the depth of the music.

"Thanks." She smiled in a vaguely grateful way and advanced towards the table that carried the weight of food on it back.

The way he played was so beautiful, so elegant, so... Different.
When he played, the was always a sense of serenity that covered them all like a thick musical blanket. Like a void of peacefulness

It was just so peaceful.

***
The guests had retreated out the door, the activity of the party draining away, out the door.

John stood behind him, watching him play, just like how Molly did, in what seemed several hours ago. He had been playing a different song, John recognised as another Minuet or something other the similar.

"Sherlock?"

Finally, John had recognised his existence.

"Yeah, hello."

"It's beautiful, all of it."

"I know."

I also know that I'm a self arrogant bastard that doesn't deserve you John. I also know that.

I'm certain of that. Sherlock though pitifully. And he was certain of that.

Outside the stars told stories, the moon shine bright. And the clock ended the night with a spell bounding ding.

"Merry Christmas Sherlock, Merry Christmas."

It all seemed to happen so quickly, so fast.
Sherlock tasted like cigarettes and John tasted like vanilla. He didn't care that it felt so wrong that what they were doing right then and now was just so...

Gay.

That's what they were. Gay.

Beautifully gay.

"Merry christmas John."

AN/ MERRYYYYYYY CHRISTMASSSSSS LIL AMAZIN PEOPLE OHMYBOOKS K
anyway have an amaZIng holiday and Christmas lmao ILYSM
Byeeee :D