Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Sherlock. Title and opening lines from the Killers song of the same name.
Every time you fall
And every time you try
Every foolish dream
And every compromise
Every word you spoke
And everything you said
Everything you left me, rambles in my head
Your world is quiet.
Not just quiet, silent.
Without footsteps pacing against the floor downstairs. Without the crash of shattering glass and quick swearing (the result of a failed experiment, no doubt). Without the glassy notes of a violin, either screechy or mellifluous, depending on the player's mood.
You lay in bed and close your eyes and try to grasp a sound, any at all, anything familiar. But Mrs. Hudson is fast asleep, no clanking of pits and pans or shuffling of slippers on carpet. The only think that registers is the distant humming of the refrigerator and occasional complaint from an air vent, but that is all.
This was what it was like when you came back from the war. Ringing or the pounding of blood in his ears, entirely too loud, that competed with the lingering sound of bombs exploding or gunshots. There is nothing to compete with your thoughts now, the persistent voice in your ear, so heartbreakingly familiar. You want to look up and there He'll be, standing and talking, eyes glazed over as the thoughts pour over.
But He's not here, you tell yourself, firmly. He's not anywhere, anymore.
He is not sitting on the bed beside you. The was not the dip of the mattress you felt. That is your subconscious playing a joke on you.
A cruel, cruel joke.
You need to go to therapy more, you tell yourself. You have to stop skipping appointments. You need to get out of the house. You have to go visit Mycroft. You have to eat. You have to bathe.
There's a catch in your throat. You roll over.
Goddamn you. You are better than this. You have watched friends die beside you in battle. You are a soldier, and you can endure.
You must endure.
He would not want to watch you unravel.
The words in your ears are false; He is not bending over you and whispering to you. You are asleep. It is a dream. Ignore everything and focus on what is real.
But you don't want to focus on what is real, do you?
You are content with illusions.
Don't close your eyes, He falls behind them.
Don't open your eyes, He's there no longer.
Don't keep listening, you'll hear nothing.
Don't stop hearing, just listen.
A/N: Reichenbach Fall is later today, sobs. I drabbled this for a song prompt on tumblr. Hope it wasn't too bad.
As a little note for Ave Atque Vale, I'm gonna update it later this week, so to give time for the sherlock fandom as a whole to nurse their/our wounds.
Review if you've got the time, please.