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Summary
Mary was lovely. John did love her, but Sherlock;
Sherlock was something else entirely.
He was violin music, shrill and manic. A war. Dancing flame.
He was a forest fire and John was a deer that couldn't bring itself to flee.
As his ears bled he wished the music would get louder.
But now, it was so incredibly silent.(The time after Sherlock's death and return but sadder and gayer)
