#alliaskofyou

spotted

where’s raoul tho?

the north pole?

So for some reason, after more than a decade of listening to this song, it only just hit me that in All I Ask of You, instead of saying “...let me lead you from your solitude.” Like Raoul sings, Erik’s take on the song is “...lead me, save me from my solitude...”

!!!!

Like, yes he’s using Raoul’s song because he doesnt really know how to tell Christine how he’s feeling on his own, and like, thats tragic enough...

But for the first time he is being honest with her and with himself and just saying, save me. I’m actually the one who needs you.

I’m heartbroken all over again.

I’ve never written or interacted with drunk people ever so bear with me.

–

Greg slams down three more drinks on the table, one for each of them.

John cheers while Sherlock squints at his fingers, marveling at the swirls.

“Sherloooock,“ John slurs, tugging at his arm.

“Hm?” Sherlock pulls his attention away from his fascinating fingers to look at John, his face swimming in Sherlock’s vision.

“I want– I want to do the– the– the arm thing.”

“The arm thing?”

“Yeah!” John smiles. It’s absolutely dazzling and Sherlock can’t seem to look away. Right now, he doesn’t really care what “the arm thing” is as long as it keeps John grinning at him like that.

“Where you link arms then drink your drink,” Greg explains to Sherlock.

“How…how do we drink if our arms are linked?”

John’s face falls, disappointed, and Sherlock feels John’s hand come away from his arm and that is not acceptable because John should be touching Sherlock at all times –

At that moment a young woman comes up to their table and places her hand on John’s other arm, leaning her elbows on the table. “I’ll do it with you,” she says.

Sherlock immediately hates her.

Her voice is utterly fake in its interest, trying for sultry when it just comes out as cheap.

John, however, doesn’t seem to think the same.

He smiles, not as bright as when he smiled at Sherlock just a few moments ago (which Sherlock is secretly overjoyed by), and turns away from Sherlock to the woman.

“Hello. How are you tonight?”

John’s politeness towards this stranger is wrong and grates on Sherlock’s nerves. Her hand moves on John’s arm, rubbing it back and forth and John isn’t stopping her. He seems to be enjoying the attention, and Sherlock momentarily sees red.

“No,” Sherlock demands, bodily pulling John away from the woman and towards himself. “You can’t touch him, you’re not allowed to touch him, you cretin.”

Sherlock wishes his voice didn’t sound as whiny as it did, but the woman sends Greg an incredulous glance as if expecting him to speak up, but he just shrugs and the woman stomps away.

He’s still glaring at the woman through the crowd of people before he hears Greg sing-songing “Ooooo!” like Mrs. Hudson when she’s found a nice piece of gossip to tell her knitting circle.

Sherlock turns his glare toward Greg to find him grinning from ear to ear. “What? What is it?”

It isn’t until Greg nods his head toward John that Sherlock realizes that John had laid his head down on Sherlock’s shoulder when Sherlock dragged John away from that devil of a woman. His eyes are closed, utterly content with where he is.

Yes, perfect. John should feel absolutely safe with Sherlock. Sherlock will protect him from unsolicited flirtations of strange women in bars, like a good friend.

He goes to put his trapped arm around John to keep him at his side, but the motion jostles John just enough for him to sit up and look around groggily, as if he doesn’t quite reminder where he is.

“Wasn’t there someone there?” John asks, pointedly looking at the empty space at the end of the table.

“No,” Sherlock replies.

Greg covers his mouth with his hand, stifling his laugh.

–