Author: Ariane DeVere
Word count: 221 (+ 221B Author’s Note)
Warnings, kinks and contents: Established relationship, fretful Sherlock
Summary: Newly established in their relationship, Sherlock worries that he isn’t making John happy. John is quick to reassure him.
“You don’t sing any more.”
“Sorry, what?” John frowned at Sherlock’s latest strange utterance.
Sherlock turned his head on the pillow and looked at his puzzled lover.
“When we first lived together, you sang all the time,” Sherlock explained. “You often had the radio on in your bedroom and sang along to it, or you sang in the shower or hummed tunes in the kitchen. But since we became a couple, you don’t sing any more. I can’t help wondering whether our relationship has made you less ... joyful.”
John spoke softly, concerned about the anxious look on Sherlock’s face. “Being with you, I’m more joyful than I’ve ever been in my life. Let me prove it ...”
“I worked it out.”
“Sorry, what?” Sherlock frowned at John’s latest strange utterance.
John turned his head on the pillow and looked at his puzzled lover.
“The reason why I don’t sing any more,” he explained.
Sherlock’s face began to fill with fear, and John hurried to explain himself.
“I don’t need to sing out loud any more because my soul is singing instead. That’s what happens when you’re truly in love.”
Sherlock gazed at him, then began to blink rapidly in an attempt to stop the inexplicable stinging in his eyes. John tenderly stroked his cheek.
“And my soul sings in baritone.”
The 221B Author’s Note:
Bored at work, I was browsing through old private emails that I had exchanged with Sherlockian friends who I chatted with in the early days of the fandom. A particular conversation in November 2015 between me, Mirith Griffin and the late and much missed Stacey Albright somehow got onto the subject of music and I was saying I used to sing all the time around the house until the late 1990s when I got into a very happy relationship which lasted about five years. Despite us being together for so long, we never discussed or demonstrated our musical likes to each other and I stopped singing to myself all the time. After the relationship ended but we stayed friends, I mentioned the non-singing to him and he said glumly that he must have cramped my style. I reassured him that I hadn’t needed to sing out loud because my soul had been singing instead.
On telling the girls this, Mirith replied, “Good God, I could just weep over that. There’s a 221b in that. Possibly ending in ‘baritone’.”
Three years later, I’ve finally written it!
I might as well apologise in advance to Chocolamousse who will no doubt be furious about the blatantly missing scene halfway through the above. She’ll kill me for including no sex despite them being in bed.