Johnlock Piano Man Drabble
He only came to this mediocore club for one reason. The piano player. He was a strange sort of beautiful, not the kind you would see in a magizine, but more in a meusum. He looked like a fine work of art, his cheekbones being framed by his beautiful brown curls, leading down his pale, alabaster neck. He found that he couldn’t take his eyes off of the man, he was transfixed by him. And then there was his ability on the piano. He played a few songs, and then disappeared. He never said a word, he would simply play the most beautiful tones that John assumed he wrote himself.
John came into the club for his set on a saturday night. He had had a shite day at the clinic, just for the mysterious piano man (thats what everyone had taken to calling the beautiful man) and he loved how he looked when he finally came out onto the stage. He was wearing a Belstaff, no doubt very expensive. The first two buttons of his plum shirt was unbuttoned, showing off his delicious collarbone. He found himself staring, as he started to play a familiar tune.
Everyone knew the opening to Piano Man, but this song had lyrics, surely he would atleast hear his voice tonight. He continued to play, as he began to spoke “It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday, The regular crowd shuffles in.”His voice is everything John dreamt about. It is deep, a rich baritone that reveberated in his bones. It would haunt his dreams for weeks, that beautiful voice.
He looks over at John, who is drinking a whiskey, and continues. “There’s an old man sitting next to me, Making love to his tonic and gin.” he continued, as John is tranfixed, glued to the spot, as he listens to the man play. He gets louder, singing loudly “Sing us a song you’re the piano man, Sing us a song tonight! Well we’re all in the mood for a melody,And you’ve got us feeling alright!”
