I Sometimes Save The Day [a John Watson fanmix]
Full album art, tracklistings, and download links under the cut.
And it's done! Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the John counterpart of my recent Sherlock mix.
OH JOHN WATSON, HOW I LOVE YOU SO.
This part, like He Talks In Maths, was very much inspired by wordstrings's wonderful Paradox series. They were the very first fics I read in the BBC Sherlock/John fandom and they were utterly gorgeous. Simply put, I fell in love. And then I made two fanmixes.
The quotes coupled with each track are from the above mentioned fic series, which I have happily copy-and-pasted with permission from wordstrings. So if you were planning on reading it (which you really should if you haven't!) be careful of all the lovely little spoilers for the story in this post.
I really hope you all enjoy the mix. ♥
DOWNLOAD THE ALBUM ZIP
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I Sometimes Save The Day
a John Watson fanmix
1. Clogs - I Used To Do
[Instrumental]
John Watson is a man who is comfortable with paradoxes. He has learned to be. Has to be.
He is a good man, and he went to war.
He is a doctor, and dying is what people do.
-The Paradox Suite-
2. Frightened Rabbit - The Loneliness and The Scream
Am I here?
Of course I am, yes
All I need is your hand
To drag me out again
"Send a text for me, will you?"
John sighs. He is sighing because that is the best way to hide a smile in Sherlock's company. John is a military man. He is thus strong and capable and self-determined, but there is a pleasure he takes in being given orders. He derives a very soulful, cheerful satisfaction from being told, for instance, "Pat him down for weapons, John, we don't have all day, do we?" And in a smaller sense, while being outwardly annoyed, he enjoys being Sherlock's personal secretary. Not when Sherlock is polite about it, because of course he tested this theory as soon as it occurred to him, but only when Sherlock barks out orders.
It fascinates Sherlock like nothing else does. And like absolutely everything about John does.
-An Act Of Charity-
3. Tom McRae - I Ain't Scared of Lightning
I ain’t scared of lightning
Come on and do your worst
"I'll wreck you, you know."
"You're going to do what the entire Afghan army couldn't manage? I...congratulations. You're a marvel."
"Do you know you say these things out loud?"
"I know every word," John answers, reaching for the back of Sherlock's neck with a very steady hand.
"Oh, God. To hell with the both of us. Kiss me," he says, desperate.
And John does.
-An Act Of Charity-
4. Gentleman Reg - You Make Me Tall
So speak the words
And make them sound effortless
Strung together
I receive the nicest gift
It's for my eyes to scan
I respond with my hand
Giving you shivers
"No, it's lovely."
And there is the kicker, the lurking shock to the system waiting to pounce. Moonlight-coloured, mad-eyed scrutiny is to be expected. It was always a central tenet of living here, in fact, and at times it was even helpful. John can't spend nearly so much time rigourously examining himself, his dreams, his ridiculous leg, when someone else is already doing it for him. That would have made his own pathologies seem far too important. John isn't a vain man. And now that he seems to have placed himself entirely at the disposal of London's only consulting detective, he hardly expected the chillingly thorough study to lessen. That would have been completely out of character for his friend, and anyway John supposes he might actually have missed it. So deductions and scrutinies are all very much in their usual line, necessary, no matter how...exposed they might make him feel at times.
No, it's lovely in a hushed baritone, on the other hand, is borderline earth-shattering. He means it, too. John knows he does. Sherlock never says anything he doesn't want to say.
-The Paradox Suite-
5. Jon Brion - Get What It's About
Where do I begin?
Cause there's a whirlpool of information
That you’ve got to sort through
To get to where it's at
It falls flat and it makes you crazy
But I get the feeling
That I get what it's about
"So, you're telling me, you sometimes don't like to differentiate between so many similar things. Like colours and microwaves. So when my hair should have bothered you but it didn't, you started thinking so hard about hair that you. Um. Jumped tracks and forgot about sex. My hair colour being equally as fascinating to you as..."
"As the sex with you is. Yes, that's it."
"Sherlock, does that mean that sex with me is...boring?"
Sherlock scowls darkly, adjusting the lapel of his thin robe in a huff.
"Now, that is dense."
Something begins to glow in John's chest. It's a fluttery glow, warm and yet skittering, like leaves before a pane of glass blocking the sunlight.
"Does it mean my hair is...riveting?"
"There we are. Thought you'd catch up eventually."
-The Paradox Suite-
6. The National - The Geese Of Beverly Road
Hey, love, we'll get away with it
We'll run like we're awesome, totally genius
"Fuck it, then," John says with a shrug. "We'll risk our lives, prove we're clever. Suited us down to the ground so far."
-The Death and Resurrection of the English Language-
7. M. Ward - I'll Be Yr Bird
I could protect like I've always been there
I'll become your bear
"English was broken, but you fixed it."
"That's impossible. And nonsense. Impossible nonsense, but--not surprisingly--I think I know what you mean."
"You'll want my blood later, you'll see." Sherlock's eyes are fluttering shut again. He's very happy and very, very tired. "You'll want a bit of it, anyway. I'm amazing. Just look at me."
"Yes, well. You are admittedly amazing. And very beautiful under most circumstances. But you look like a crime scene currently. In fact."
That's all to the good, though. You love crime scenes, thinks Sherlock.
He's no longer worried about whether or not this might be wishful thinking, either. John Watson has a scar on his shoulder that's a map of something, and one day Sherlock Holmes will work out what it is. John Watson looks ten years younger when he smiles. John Watson can shoot a gun like it grew out the end of his arm. John Watson knows when things are good, and he's the one gave him the blood in the first place, so it must be fine, everything's fine. It's almost as if someone understands him. And better than that, it's exactly as if someone is finally trying. If John Watson was a bit bigger, Sherlock thinks hazily, then he'd be proportionately more good and more warm as well, that's simply science, and then no one overseas would ever have shot at him because they'd have seen what he was at a distance, and they couldn't have done it. Thank god he is so small. And they missed it. Or he might never have come to London.
"You love crime scenes," Sherlock smiles, feeling fingers brush his face as he drifts off again.
"God, yes," he hears last of all. "I bloody well do, don't I?"
-The Death and Resurrection of the English Language-
8. The Mountain Goats - I Love You. Let's Light Ourselves on Fire
What's making me take it all too far?
You are
You are
"You're well and truly obsessed with me, aren't you?" Sherlock asks.
For a moment, John is taken aback. He expected any number of things, but never to be mocked. Not for loyalty. Sherlock doesn't understand empathy very well, but he does understand loyalty. For a moment, John is not merely taken aback. He is badly hurt.
"What?"
"You heard me." Sherlock advances. He'll pounce any moment, and then John won't even be able to pretend his will is his own. "You're obsessed. 'Sherlock doesn't like having his things touched?' If that isn't proof, I don't know what is."
Sherlock isn't mocking him, John realizes next.
He quoting facts. Rather breathily.
And just after that, John makes three simultaneous discoveries.
First, this is a game, because this is what Sherlock looks like when a game is on. Maybe it's even a marvelous game, a game where truth masquerades as foreplay. The sort of game only Sherlock could come up with, because only Sherlock refuses to say tender things unless the moon is bloody blue or the sky has turned into one giant rainbow. Second, this is a game two can play. Third, this is a game Sherlock wants him to join.
So of course, nerves thrilling, John does.
-Entirely Covered in Your Invisible Name-
9. Patrick Wolf - To The Lighthouse
To the lighthouse my friend
I bless your words and education
To the lighthouse my friend.
Just go! Just go!
To the lighthouse my friend
I am sorry that you came to find
"Great great minds against themselves conspire"
I got lost.
SH
It's the single most terrifying three words John has ever seen.
-Entirely Covered in Your Invisible Name-
10. Ian Cooke - The Rot
Get out the rot; you've got to get steady!
Get out, get out, get out, get out!
"We're performing a surgical extraction," John says.
Sherlock's eyebrows tilt when he registers this.
"Why? How?"
"Because you're past the help of drugs, and I am a doctor. Can you move the song?"
Frowning, Sherlock rolls onto his side, bringing his knees up towards his ribs. He turns his face into the pillow, nuzzling it like an exhausted cat. "I don't know. I think so."
"Then put it in your arm."
John sinks the hollow needle into Sherlock's arm, the bad arm, the left arm, the arm he avoids looking at habitually, and extracts about one fluid ounce of blood. Oddly, as he performs the most insane medical procedure that the mind of man has ever conceived, he doesn't feel he's doing any sort of disservice to actual medical science. Medical science is about making people well. John is about making people well too, as it happens. Talismans are valuable. Placebos are documented aids to recovery. Washing hands seemed like superstition once. Chemotherapy is like magic. Art can fix minds. Herbs can do good. Sherlock is mad.
And there really isn't anything less invasive that remains to be tried, is there?
-Entirely Covered in Your Invisible Name-
11. Local Natives - Shape Shifter
I've got control
I shift my shape
They are silent for ten minutes, listening to the clock. Sherlock never takes his eyes off John, and somehow that helps John to reach his decision. It isn't going to be pleasant, and it isn't exactly fair. Hell, it's dubiously moral and John knows it. But this can never happen again. Never. And slowly, as Sherlock's eyes never never blink and never never leave John's face, John retreats into the quiet part of his head, from where he can manage to attempt this feat. Miracles aren't really his forte, but he did recently kill an invisible song. He props up on his elbows and rolls his body into Sherlock's, up flush against him, ready and able to do something impossibly courageous now that he's reached the conclusion that he has no choice. John never thought of himself as a miracle worker, not even once, but he can attempt the impossible nevertheless. He's a trained professional at that sort of thing...tilting at windmills. After all, Afghanistan never went well for any young British soldier in any story that John can recall.
-Entirely Covered in Your Invisible Name-
12. The National - About Today
Hey, are you awake
Yeah I'm right here
Well can I ask you about today
How close am I to losing you?
"How long will you be like this?" he asks before he can stop himself.
"Like what?"
John shrugs, his skin prickling with discomfort. "Like you are. Obsessed with me--looking at me like that, I just. When you're looking at me like that...hang it. It scares me witless, really. That you'll stop, and I won't...that you'll stop one of these days. That's all. I want to do this, to be--I want to be there to help you. For as long as I can. I just want to be there. With you. How long am I likely to have as your, um. Preoccupation?"
Sherlock's eyes narrow. "Do you really think about that?"
"Every day, more or less," John admits.
The ludicrously brilliant smile creeps steadily onto Sherlock's face. "John, I was three years old when I first grew obsessed with the sound of the violin, and I solved my first crime when I was seven. Have I thrown either of those things over?"
"Well...no. But--"
"It isn't my fault I didn't meet you until that day at Bart's, is it?"
"Of course not, but--"
"You are such an idiot," Sherlock says lovingly.
-Entirely Covered in Your Invisible Name-
13. Patrick Wolf - Moon River
Oh, dream maker
You heart breaker
Wherever you’re goin’
I’m goin’ your way
John nods. Sherlock shivers, and discovers that the only reason he knows it's cold in the room is that John is warm. And then he realizes that John loves him, and John was kissing him just now, and nevertheless John is looking sadder by far than he has in weeks. He's blinking hard at Sherlock's collarbone, trying miserably not to show it and failing.
"I wish I knew why you look like that," Sherlock says. "Don't look like that. I haven't done anything terrible, and there's such a lot of world to see. We'll see it tomorrow."
"Right," John whispers. "And you love me."
"And you love me."
"Off to see the world, then. We'll see it tomorrow."
"Of course we will."
-Wider Than a Mile-
14. Pinback - Bloods On Fire
Brain to head. What is that for?
Vein to vein. Torn and sore
Carpet so thick and worn
Blanketed, dark, and warm
Calm yourself
Calm yourself
"Where were you, then, just now? You weren't in London."
"Deserts," Sherlock murmurs. "I was dreaming of deserts. I dreamt of deserts and you were there and everything was my fault."
-New Days to Throw Your Chains Away-
15. Grizzly Bear - Service Bell
I keep a service bell by my bed for you
Let the others do what they do
"Sherlock, your moral relativism is highly dangerous and dubiously logical."
"I know," he whispers. "That's what you're here for."
"Am I?" John smiles. "What else am I here for?"
"Primarily for kissing."
"I thought I was for splitting the rent. And making points for you in front of Lestrade."
"No, you're for kissing."
"Not for buying milk?"
"For kissing."
"I distinctly recall--"
There's a surge forward, just the smallest of brief magnetic tugs from either one of them, Sherlock honestly can't be sure which, and then soft wide lips are dragging over soft thin lips, and the glad disappears. It's frightening, how bottomless this is, Sherlock acknowledges when John's tongue meets his with a muffled wordless sound meaning yes from one or the other of them, because Sherlock knows himself to be brakeless when he isn't ruthlessly focused, and John isn't cautious where his Sherlock addiction is concerned. He doesn't seem to find high levels of Sherlock Holmes in any way toxic to the system. He's careful with Sherlock, and takes care of Sherlock, and cares for Sherlock, and cares for himself quite carefully as well, but he doesn't take care how much Sherlock he's inhaling at any given moment. The current moment being a fine example, because Sherlock just rolled John decisively onto his back and is kissing him as if kissing and fucking are identical. Which they are, he owns, aesthetically at any rate, if only to him.
-New Days to Throw Your Chains Away-
16. Le Loup - Breathing Rapture
Oh, love is shaped like cities burning
Sifting through the ashes after
We will find your life in laughter
Oh, the black and breathing rapture
"How you love me, though," John says quietly. "Look at that. Christ, how you love me. The way you love me, it should be illegal."
"It probably is illegal."
-New Days to Throw Your Chains Away-
17. The Temper Trap - Soldier On
Well this side of, mortality is
Scaring, me, to death
To death
"Sherlock, stop talking," John gasps. "I hate you more every second. I love you and I hate you, and I can say that today, can't I, because you almost got away from us? This whole fucking sideshow you loathe so much. I can't. I just...please stop. Stop telling me to think of poison in your veins as an attraction, that you like to see me cry. I love you, and I think you're breaking my heart."
"But that's backwards. I love you, and I'm not even meant to have a heart."
It's wrong again. John launches himself off the bed at this confession, tearing himself from Sherlock's grip. He's pacing, quick little spurts back and forth on his short legs, furiously drying his face with his jumper sleeve. Finally he comes to a brief stop in front of the wall and sends his fist flying at it. It's not hard enough to make a hole, but it's hard enough to damage the fingers, and John flinches in pain, and Sherlock stares, feeling much more like he's drowning now than he did twenty minutes ago.
"So this is the way you really like it," John concludes, his back striking the wallpaper. His legs seem exhausted suddenly, as the did that day at the public pool, and that's wrong, violently wrong, wrong enough to freeze Sherlock's breath in his throat. "Fuck all the rest of it, crime scenes and electroencephalography. You like being officially dead for twenty seconds or so while I do CPR and mouth-to-mouth on you, and then coming back because you feel vaguely obligated, and then watching me break. That's. That's a laugh a minute for you, a day worth making declarations on."
-A Thousand Threads of What-Might-Have-Beens-
18. Grizzly Bear - Foreground
Take on another shift
Palms in the middle, hands in the middle
Work out another rift
Something is muffled, another juggle
"I don't know how to say it," he informs John. "The...I tried writing a formula, you see. About us. It was accurate in almost every particular, and very elegant. But your algebra is quite pedestrian."
John blinks, absorbing the frank assessment of his maths skills. "Okay." He looks to be fighting a smile for an instant, but the mirth at once disappears. "Well, I..."
"And the map didn't work either. I couldn't get the geography of it precisely right. As I said, I thought about just giving you my arm, as a metaphor, but--"
"English, Sherlock." John already sounds exasperated. "English. Take a stab at English and I'll try to fix it if it gets bollocksed."
-A Thousand Threads of What-Might-Have-Beens-
19. Loney, Dear - Violent
I never knew no one like you
With you inside my ears
With your words print to my hands
And it’s so hard to change
From wrong to everything okay
It’s so hard to change
When everything turns to you
I was your treasure
And you gave me names.
You said never let no one get close
And I never knew no one like you
Violence, come closer
Believe in me
"Incredible."
"Which part?"
"Every part. Just when I think I've got you sorted. Every time. Fuck you, Sherlock Holmes," John laughs, still kissing him though now his fingers are in the way slightly.
"Well. If you'd like."
"God, yes, you're so good, you're--"
"I'm not, though. You've got us mixed."
"I try to be good," John says, letting his forehead touch Sherlock's when the taller man ducks. "But I fail sometimes. I don't mean to, but I'm human. I'm only human, Sherlock. We both try. You try, too."
"It doesn't look the same when I fail. Things explode."
"Well. You're a bit beyond human." John tangles his fingers in the curls at his friend's nape. "So you have a different excuse altogether."
"What are we to live on?" Sherlock demands, forcing his voice to remain even although it's just now strenuously objecting. "How are we to live like this?"
"We'll live on starlight and crime scenes," John breathes. "Just as we've always done."
-A Thousand Threads of What-Might-Have-Beens-
DOWNLOAD THE ALBUM ZIP
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If you would like a link to any of the individual tracks, just ask!
[view the mix on tumblr]
[view the mix on 8tracks]
And while you're here, please check out some of the other fandom-y things I've worked on:
more fanmixes + more things sherlock
or come join us at 221b-fanmix
This John Watson fanmix was created for you with love by suchaprince. The quotes coupled with each track are from the Paradox series written by wordstrings, which served as the inspiration for this mix.