Work Text:
Confetti littered the floor of 221B Baker Street. Light reflected, refracted off of the wine glasses left about the flat. Balloons of every color floated along the ceiling, bobbing along looking for a way to escape into the night. The boom of fireworks sounded in the sky outside. Friends milled about the mess, greeting one another. “Happy New Year.” They said, their voices enthusiastic, their eyes exposing their weariness. They paraded around the home wearing sparkles and deep purples; adorned themselves with crowns displaying the exciting words. They spoke of new plans for the New Year; knowing inside that the plans would dissipate throughout the upcoming months. The soft notes of a violin floated down the hallway, gliding into the ears of all the guests.
John Watson excused himself from his conversation. With five quick, short steps he was at the bedroom door. He did not knock, for he knew there would be no answer. Silver knob in his left hand he twisted it silently and eased the door inwards. Entering the room he could do nothing but stare. He stared at the tall figure sitting upon the bed. His long legs were twisted underneath him, as if he were an Indian chief. Dark curls cascaded framing his chiseled, porcelain face. Purple fabric stretched around the toned arms, his graceful, elegant fingers holding the instrument at just the right angle. His eyes were closed as he took in the sound he was composing, but John knew they were the color of the raging ocean underneath the fragile layer of white skin.
“This is your song John.” His voice was like thunder, soft thunder. His eyes stayed closed, concentrating on the music, not daring to get a single note wrong. John stepped closer. “I wrote it for you.” The thunder sounded again in John’s ears. The giant stood, his eyes shut firmly, he was majestic John thought. Each man took one step forward, one step long and elegant, the other step short and graceless.
John dared not speak; he knew his voice would betray his nerves. One last step brought him face to face with the beautiful creature. He stared up at the closed eyes. “It isn’t proper to stare John.” Thunder shook him to his very core. His stomach began to move rapidly inside of his body, his skin became prickly and the heat, oh the heat. He was relieved the giant’s eyes were closed and he could not see the crimson rushing across John’s cheekbones.
The music stopped.
Violin placed carefully onto the bed behind the two men.
Ragged breathing the only sound heard in the room. It seemed to John Watson that the entire flat had silenced only to listen at the bedroom door.
Then the thunder started again, softly. John reveled in the sound. The way the breath of it washed over his scorching face. It warned of a storm to come.
“Happy New Year John Watson.” The thunder said before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss onto warm lips.