I'm Sophia. This profile is largely defunct, now only used to look at mature-flagged things (ha) and favouriting. |
JohnJohnJohn by Happyfeetthatsme
He was standing there saying those words, those dreadful, horrid words, and for a second - one heart-stopping, awful second - he thought it was him. That man. John Watson, the man who had spent months with him, and had been brilliant. He hadn't complained about the skull and the running around, he hadn't objected once to the danger and even the drugs. He had been the best flatmate ever, and he hadn't even fucking acknowledged it. He didn't know how he would cope if it were John. He prepared himself to let another person out of his life, yet another, when he saw the red light of the sniper fixed on his heart, and he could have cried. He could have shouted, jumped for joy, collapsed with delight, he could have kissed him, Moriarty, the gunman, anybody because it wasn't John. And that just made his day.
HurtI would hold you in my armsHurt by Happyfeetthatsme
I would take the pain away
Thank you for all you've done
Forgive all your mistakes
There's nothing I wouldn't do
To hear your voice again
Sometimes I want to call you but I know you won't be there
You're holding me close, and I am clutching you so tightly my arms are trembling, but I won't stop. You're shaking a little, and I want to take all of your pain away, and to soothe your thoughts, so I am mumbling in your ear, trivial things, just memories, but I can tell that you are listening to every word.
I have to take the chance, and there is an urgency I don't understand, because you might be gone any second - Why? - and I have to tell you this.
"Thank you, my John, for everything. For putting up with me and for giving me your love and for taking mine in return. You are my everything, and I know that it was hard. God, it was so hard. Especially for us. We could only tell George and Ringo, and all of the girls who were fawning over us, thinking they had a chan