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American Music on the Radio

Chapter Text

"All I can say is that my life is pretty plain
I like watching the puddles gather rain

And all I can do is just pour some tea for two"

John stands in the kitchen waiting on the kettle to boil. He has taken to listening to American music during those occasional moments when he is alone in the flat. He smiles at the knowledge that his best friend and soul mate will be coming home any second. He'll sit down at the table (or jump around with his hands waving in the air likes he's completely deranged) and then...

"And speak my point of view
But it's not sane, it's not sane

I just want someone to say to me no, oh, oh, oh
I'll always be there when you wake, yea-ah"

John smirks. This song always reminds him of the two of them. Especially the part about telling him "no." John keeps Sherlock in line somehow, even when in the midst of a tantrum. He thinks about the reactions of most other normal people to Sherlock and can't stop smiling. It's all part of living with and loving a genius he guesses.

"And I don't understand why I sleep all day
And I start to complain that there's no rain
And all I can do is read a book to stay awake
And it rips my life away, but it's a great escape

John drums his fingers against his wheat-colored jumper. Everytime he hears that line he looks around at Sherlock's mess and considers the great mind. There are books strewn all over the living room and one single paperback lying in the middle of the side table next to John's favorite chair. He smiles quietly to himself. He would not have to be a mad genius to clearly see the organized chaos of his life, even though it was not what he imagined for himself three years ago, he would never change it now. Not for all the Queen's gold....or silver ashtrays.

He is turned toward the stove and doesn't hear Sherlock come up behind him. Suddenly there is a pair of thin but very strong arms around him and a baritone whisper in his ear...

"I'll always be there when you wake, yea-ah"

John smiles and his eyes sparkle. Though suprised that Sherlock knows the words, he is entirely unsurprised at the way his voice slides down the older man's spine and lodges there. John turns and the two men look into each others' souls and giggle. Anyone walking by the flat who could hear them would think they had absolutely lost their minds.

"So stay with me and I'll have it made..."