dani_meows (dani_meows) wrote in bipolardanicats, @ 2011-09-28 10:44:00 |
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Current mood: | awake |
Nothing Like the Sun
Title: Nothing Like the Sun
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Pairing: John/Sherlock
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Prompt 42.) Poetry. Shakespeare's Sonnet 130 is not mine.
Nothing Like the Sun
The fact that lying here, watching John sleep made Sherlock want to spout poetry was a secret that he would take to the grave.
Tonight, for reasons that escaped him, since not only was John not his mistress but he'd always hated the poem, Sonnet 130 was running through his head.
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Even ignoring the obvious fact that John was not a woman and not his mistress, John's eyes were clearly nothing like the sun. The sun was an overly bright and blinding ball of gas, that was dull and boring. Information about the sun was irrelevant data that Sherlock deleted from his hard drive.
John's eyes were bright blue but not blinding and obviously were not balls of gas. They were not dull or boring since his eyes tended to reflect his moods. They could be bright with happiness, clouded with anger, dull with sadness or some variation in between. Any information about John was never irrelevant and was never and would never be deleted from his hard drive.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
Sherlock loved to hear John's voice. He loved all of the different ways John said his name and the way John's voice often reflected the emotions that John was feeling. He loved the way his name could be said in anger, frustration, sadness, fond affection, and millions of other emotions and how always underneath everything else, Sherlock could hear John's love for him.
Here was another place that Shakespeare had it wrong. Music was not more pleasing than the sound of John's voice, not even Sherlock's Stradivarius could play sounds better than the sounds John made when they were making love.
And no sound in the universe could compare to how pleasing a sound John's voice had been, not long after a violent explosion had left Sherlock thinking that John was dead. His voice that day, shaken but alive, was more wondrous than any music.
Sherlock was jolted out of his musings by John waking up. Okay he'd give Shakespeare credit for the line about breath reeking, he thought even as he kissed his husband good morning.