Breakfast at 221B 2/3
anonymous
December 9 2010, 16:42:04 UTC
The second time, John was testing a theory. None of the other songs he had put on had any effect on Sherlock, who seemed to ignore them, occasionally even glaring at the radio and John resentfully until John turned it off. That day after work he stopped by a store, browsing the racks until finding the CD and buying it. Inside the flat, he put it in the stereo and skipped through until finding the track he wanted. Mrs Hudson had stopped by and was talking to Sherlock when the song began, once again filling their flat with its slow melody.
“Oh,” Mrs Hudson said with a nostalgic smile on her face. “I remember this. I haven’t heard this song in years.”
Sherlock paused before suddenly drawing himself up in an oddly formal way and extending a gentlemanly hand toward Mrs Hudson.
“If I may have this dance?” he asked, a charming smile on his face. John had watched him on cases, donning and discarding personalities as if they were as disposable as a page of paper. Something about his relaxed stance and the way his eyes softened almost imperceptibly, however, told John that this was not just another act. Something about this was real, like a piece of something true surfacing briefly while the song played. John felt oddly touched and honoured to be granted the privilege of seeing it.
Mrs Hudson and John both stared in shock, until finally Mrs Hudson broke the awkward silence with a youthful giggle and stepped forward, placing her right hand in Sherlock’s left and the other on his shoulder. Sherlock swept her around the room in a slow dance and John swore he saw fifty years drop off of their landlady’s face as her handsome tenant swept her around the room. She smiled like a young girl, shy and charmed at a boy asking her for her first dance. It was sweet and kind, and John watched them from the sofa with a tender expression on his face as Sherlock gently guided Mrs Hudson with a subtle pressure on her waist at each turn.
The song ended too soon, and Sherlock gave his partner an affectionate peck on her flushed cheek as he released her hand and took a step back. She beamed at them both as she left, humming sentimentally as she made her way down the stairs. Sherlock stood in the middle of the room, his hands lying steady at his sides and his body unnaturally still after his fluid grace a moment before.
“What is it about this song?” John wondered, not really expecting an answer.
Sherlock’s face closed off.
“We all have our favorite songs, don’t we?” he asked, his usual caustic manner returning abruptly.
John left it, but he kept the CD anyway and listened to the song again right before he went to bed, letting it drift him off to sleep.
“Oh,” Mrs Hudson said with a nostalgic smile on her face. “I remember this. I haven’t heard this song in years.”
Sherlock paused before suddenly drawing himself up in an oddly formal way and extending a gentlemanly hand toward Mrs Hudson.
“If I may have this dance?” he asked, a charming smile on his face. John had watched him on cases, donning and discarding personalities as if they were as disposable as a page of paper. Something about his relaxed stance and the way his eyes softened almost imperceptibly, however, told John that this was not just another act. Something about this was real, like a piece of something true surfacing briefly while the song played. John felt oddly touched and honoured to be granted the privilege of seeing it.
Mrs Hudson and John both stared in shock, until finally Mrs Hudson broke the awkward silence with a youthful giggle and stepped forward, placing her right hand in Sherlock’s left and the other on his shoulder. Sherlock swept her around the room in a slow dance and John swore he saw fifty years drop off of their landlady’s face as her handsome tenant swept her around the room. She smiled like a young girl, shy and charmed at a boy asking her for her first dance. It was sweet and kind, and John watched them from the sofa with a tender expression on his face as Sherlock gently guided Mrs Hudson with a subtle pressure on her waist at each turn.
The song ended too soon, and Sherlock gave his partner an affectionate peck on her flushed cheek as he released her hand and took a step back. She beamed at them both as she left, humming sentimentally as she made her way down the stairs. Sherlock stood in the middle of the room, his hands lying steady at his sides and his body unnaturally still after his fluid grace a moment before.
“What is it about this song?” John wondered, not really expecting an answer.
Sherlock’s face closed off.
“We all have our favorite songs, don’t we?” he asked, his usual caustic manner returning abruptly.
John left it, but he kept the CD anyway and listened to the song again right before he went to bed, letting it drift him off to sleep.
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