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The Melody of Love

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Everyone knows about soulmates. Everyone knows that that random song gets stuck in your head it isn’t a random song, whenever one person listens to a song their soul mate will hear it too. Not ear it out loud, like you would normal things, but hear it in your head, like a thought of your own, only its not your own, it is your soulmates. For many, it is a reminder that they have someone there for them, that when a clear jingle of a song rings through your mind you can't help but think of the person you were meant for. It is a reminder that you are never alone, even if you are by yourself.

And then, there is the absolute bliss that comes with listening to a song with your soulmate, you don't only hear the melody but it also reverberates through you, and of course your soulmate. In coffee shops often frequented by daters, you can often see couples sitting and listening to music together, and even though you yourself only hear the surface song, like anything on the radio or anywhere else you know that those two are sitting and listening to music completely envelope them inside and out.

Jim Moriarty has heard wonderus violin ring through his head for almost his whole life, some songs things he’d heard before, some things he was pretty sure that his soulmate had composed themself.

Occasionally, the violin ringing in Jim's head would play on through whole nights or stretches of days, but it was ok, Jim had pretty much figured out that his soulmate played violin when he was stressed or upset. As a comfort to his soulmate, whenever Jim heard extended stretches of violin, he would do his best to softly sing along, or listen to reassuring music, just to remind his soulmate that he was there.

Sherlock had long concluded that his soulmate had zero taste in music what so ever. Sometimes his soulmate listened intently to soft beautiful piano music... and sometimes he listened to ‘dancing queen’ by abba ten times on loop. Sherlock knew his soulmate was a he the same way he knew his soulmate was Irish, Sherlock's soulmate, whoever it was, liked to sing. Not super often, but enough so that Sherlock knew his voice, mostly he sang along to Sherlock's violin, and it was… it was really nice.
Sherlock sometimes wishes he had a way of telling is soulmate he had a lovely singing voice, or telling him to keep going if he stopped, he wished he had a way of telling his soulmate anything at all.

He remembers very clearly the first time he had heard his voice, Sherlock was very young and very excited.

“Mummy!” sherlock remembers yelling as he clambered into his mother's lap, “mummy I can hear him!”

“Hear who sweetheart?”

Sherlock tapped one of his tiny fingers against his forehead, “him.” he whispered dreamily.

Sherlock remembered all the emotions that ran across his mothers face as he said it, confusion, realization, fear, love, remembrance, pride.
“And how does he sound darling?”

“He sounds like… he sounds like honey! And love? Can someone sound like love mummy?”

His mother had chuckled softly, “yes, yes I think they can.”

“He also sounds like the man at the bakery that always gives me extra chocolate.” tiny Sherlock had added.

“An Irishman!” his mother laughed.

He remembers overhearing his parents talking that night in the kitchen when he was supposed to be sleeping.

“Honey Sherlock heard his soulmate for the first time today.”

“and, does she sound like anything special?” his father asked cocking an eyebrow at his mother.

“He, sounds, like an Irishman” his mother looked at his father expectantly.

“So… Sherlocks, gay?”

“I believe so, but one of them was bound to be.”

“I guess your right.”

“I always am.” his mother had concluded, officially ending the conversation as she kissed her husband on the cheek and went off to bed.

Although a bit repressed Jim, too, remembered the first time he had heard his soulmates voice in his head, it had started with some roughly played violin, very obviously played by a beginner, and then came the voice, this was sweet and comforting, as sang in a very childlike voice a song about a frog sitting by a river.
Although the voice was calm and reassuring, Jim felt very afraid, there was a voice in his head and it wasn’t his! Where did it come from, where was the violin coming from, Jim covered his ears but the singing didn’t get any quieter, so he ran as quickly as his short legs could carry him to his dad.

“Daddy!” Jim yelled in a panic, using one hand to pull on his shirt and get his fathers attention and the other kept firmly pressed to his ear, big fat tears were now sliding down his face.

“James,” his father bent down lovingly, “James what's wrong”

“Singing!” Jim all but sobbed into his father shirt.

“Oh,” his father's face hardened stiffening into the face he made during more, serious matters.

“Ok jammie, I need you to listen to me ok? You going to be ok, just calm down a little. Now, can you still hear it?” his father asked, picking him up and carrying the small boy's body close to his heart.

“Do you remember when I and mommy talked to you about soulmates?”

Jim nodded

“That voice in your head is your soulmates, ok? Yeah?”

The boy nodded again.

“So why don't we do something fun while you try and calm down ok? Why don’t you tell me what she sounds like?”

“No.,” the little boy said, shaking his head and tossing his wild black hair about.

“No? Why not?”
“He, daddy, it's he,” Jim remembered his fathers feature going dark, his previously comforting guise twisting into a threatening stare.

“No, Jim, she is not.” his father had said shaking Jim far more than is necessary for a child of his size.

Jim giggled, “um, no? I'm pretty sure it's a he”

The man practically threw his son on the ground, gripping the boy by the arm and dragging him to a medicine cabinet. “Follow me, you ungrateful bastard.”
His father dug around in the cabin until he pulled out a big white pill bottle, “alright Jim listen to me you take one of these pills every day, and if you ever, ever, hear that voice again take another one and it will go away.”

Jim nodded sharply tears having returned to his reddened face.

‘My son will not be one of those freaks of nature do you hear me?” his father spat in his face, Jim didn't have time to even ask what the man was referring to ‘freaks of nature’ or ask why such a beautiful voice was so bad before he was locked in his room and not allowed to leave for three days.

Even as an adult Jim still took the pills, pills that made it so he couldn’t hardly hear the music that sometimes rang through his head. Jim has started to despise that voice because now he knew what it meant. It was what made his father hate him, it was what made him broken.

He did, no longer take such a high dosage, as he couldn’t quite give up the music that meant he was never alone, and with such a busy, high-stress occupation there were days when he found he couldn’t block out the music at all.

Today was one of those days, thankfully the violin had been to a minimum but honestly, Jim was so focused on what was going on he hardly noticed.
Now, right now, was one of those extremely high-stress situations, even though you couldn't tell from his face. He was standing at the pool, across from his arch enemy. Sherlock has moved his gun down from his face and it was now pointed at the bomb. Jim smirked knowing full well Sherlock wasn't going to shoot.

And then it happened, Jim's phone rang.

Sherlock nearly threw his gun in surprise when he felt the music, felt, he could hear it, yes but it was also ringing inside of him, it was nice, it meant…

Oh no
Oh shit

It meant he and his soulmate were listening to music together.
he knew he had recognized that voice, the voice that sounded like honey, he knew it because he had heard it singing, he had heard it humming along to his violin when he was stressed, he looked up at Moriarty, not even bothering to cover up his fear.

He and Moriarty made eye contact, and Jim doubled over and vomited.

Chapter Text

John cringed away from the criminal, making his signature ‘discused’ face and laughed a little, it was hard not to, all that had happened was the man's phone rang? Granted ‘Staying Alive’ by the Bee Gees was an odd choice of ring tone for a consulting criminal, but the amount of panic and horror on Moriarty's face belonged in a comedy, and then he had vomited?! Comedy gold!

John laughed a little more and glanced over at Sherlock, who was obviously putting some effort into not falling over, but then Sherlock looked at John, a look of fear mirroring Moriarty plastered on his face. John knew something was wrong but, what? what had gone so amiss that sherlock holmes, master detective, looked like he had seen a ghost, and Jim Moriarty, worlds most villainous criminal yet had gotten so upset he had doubled over?

“What? What is it what did I miss?” John said trying not to seem too hopelessly lost.

“The music…” Sherlock said, his words askew from breathlessness.

John looked at Moriarty, trying to use any deduction skills he’d learned from Sherlock. Moriarty still hadn't recovered from whatever happened, he sat, trembling, on his knees despite the slightly wet swimming pool flooring and his expensive clothes. He was screwing his eyes open and shut again, hyperventilating much more than was healthy.

And then John looked at Sherlock, stumbling just a bit, eyes wide looking like he had just gotten a particularly rough slap to the face.

Their panicked expressions were perfectly mirrored. If John hadn’t known that they were archenemies, he would have thought they were sou-

OH,

OH WAIT. sherlock had mentioned the music what if they, were, oh this wasn’t good at all, John had to leave, this wasn’t good,

“I um, I need to go do, a, um I need to go do something.” John stuttered, standing up and scurrying out of the pool room.

The moment Sherlock heard the door slam shut he rushed to the side of, well actually he wasn’t to sure what to call Jim anymore, because he was his soulmate (Sherlock was sure of it now), but he was also a consulting criminal, regardless of what Sherlock referred to him as,  he rushed over to Jim's side making a few deductions and he rushed towards the man.

  1. Jim had recognized that they were soulmates
  2. Jim had experience with some sort of a homophobic past.
  3. Possible abusive parent or sibling.
  4. He was on some sort of suppressant pill, Sherlock knew the type, they were designed for those who believed in finding your soulmate the ‘natural’ way, and not relying on music to find them, though he doubted that's what Jim was using them for.
  5. A correction on the previous deduction, Jim was taking the pills, but at a much lower dosage than needed to actually have an effect, and had almost entirely stopped using them some time in the past three days.

This last deduction was extremely important because in the week immediately following taking the pills, users would still hear all the music their soulmates listened to, only twice as intense, and seeing that having ‘Staying Alive’ rack through his entire person had almost sent him to his knees, Jim was probably feeling horrible.

Sherlock put an arm softly around the smaller man's shoulder, trying to be as comforting and uncontrolling as possible (3. Possible abusive parent or sibling).

“Hey, are you um…” shit Sherlock really wasn’t very good at this, “you ok?” he asked.

Jim nodded, shivers still causing his whole body to tremble, Sherlock nodded back, “is it ok if i-” Jim didn’t let Sherlock finish as he pulled him closer, clinging to his shirt, and trying to calm himself down, feeling ashamed at just how harshly he had reacted., Sherlock's body heat warmed him up a bit from the cold now biting at his legs and hands, where water had seeped into the expensive suit.

It felt nice, hugging Sherlock like this, knowing that the man who was holding him was his soulmate, that this was the face to the voice that, for many years he had occasionally to sing him to sleep, but he couldn’t help but hear his fathers voice rip through happy feeling, telling him that this wasn’t natural, or that Sherlock couldn’t really be his soulmate, adrenaline was just making him confused, he almost reached into his pocket out of habit, retrieving the pills that quieted the comforting melodies. Almost.

“I think we should talk” Sherlock started his voice soft and calming, “preferably somewhere else.” Jim had hardly noticed the cold until Sherlock had mentioned it, but he was freezing, and it was probably doing nothing for the tremors that were still shaking his libs.

Jim didn’t say anything, he just sunk his body into Sherlocks as a response, allowing himself to be guided out the door of the poorly heated pool house. At some point, Jim didn’t notice when Sherlock hailed a taxi, or when he sat down right by his side, still holding him steady.

It was perfectly peaceful. until the driver turned on the radio.

He gave no warning as he turned on the loud music, meant to fill the silence, but the moment he did Sherlock was overcome by the same feeling as in the pool, absolute bliss. The music danced around inside and outside of him, slipping and feeling its way through every place Sherlock thought was secret.

Jim beside him, audibly gasped with the music started, tearing and ripping its way through his mind and body forcing its way into all the places and memories he held sacred. He heard his father voice join the chorus, “failure, weak, unnatural, harmful, disgrace!” the voice yelled “Stop, please” he whimpered.

“Turn it off, turn off the music!” Sherlock yelled, the cabbie gave him a suspicious glance but switched the music off anyway. Jim hid further back in his mind, retreating into things that weren't even memories, just an empty, a dark expanse with no one but himself, staring off into the vast darkness, but then he felt an arm on his shoulder, pulling him close, a whispered, worried voice saying “its ok Jim, the music’s stopped, you’re ok” and suddenly there was someone else in the darkness with him, sitting by his side, comforting him. His soulmate.

Jim looked up at the other man in the darkness with him, no not in the darkness, in a cab, there were noises and people all around him, he was not alone in the dark, he was traveling through the night with his soulmate by his side.

“We’re going to your flat, right?”

“If that's ok, I don't want to force you to go anywhere you’d be uncomfortable.”

“Do you have tea? Or a nice place to sit?” preferably somewhere where we could sit together? Jim added to himself.

“I have both”

“Then yes, if you will be there, then I think I will be very comfortable,"

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when they arrived at the flat, Sherlock made tea and Jim made himself comfortable on the couch, he prepared himself for the inevitably stressful conversation that was about to take place, but as he thought of what to say to his soulmate, he found his eyes growing heavy and exhausted from the emotionally compromising events of earlier that day, and he fell asleep.

As Sherlock walked in to find a fast asleep Jim Moriarty on his couch, he smiled softly, and found he couldn't bring himself to either leave the man alone on the couch or wake him up, so he settled for sleeping in the chair adjacent to the couch, willing to risk a sore neck in exchange for a night next to his sleeping soulmate.