theyatemytaylor:

older-and-far-away:

“You don’t make a big deal of it,” Mary had explained as he had unwrapped the box, “but you love music and, well…I saw you drooling over this record player a few weeks ago and…oh hell — It’s too much, isn’t it? I went too big? I just knew you’d like it and—" 

John had cut her off with a gentle kiss. “It’s amazing and I love it. YOU’RE amazing. Of course, now I’m going to have to go start trolling the vintage vinyl shops and get a respectable collection up and running again.” 

"Oh! Wait! I have a start for you. I know it’s a little silly but…it’s Christmas. And a man in the store said I shouldn’t get you a record player and nothing to play on it, and he suggested that this would be festive, but would allow you to choose your own collection.” She’d handed him an unwrapped sleeve adorned with a semi-tasteful pile of holiday frippery and looping gold cursive text proclaiming the record full of ‘Holiday Favorites" and that they were “On Violin!" Most likely, the store over-ordered and was instructing every employee to push the record on unsuspecting customers.

He’d smiled and kissed her cheek. “It’s lovely. Truly. It’ll make the flat positively cheery. Perhaps even jolly.”

They’d giggled and sipped tea together while the first few flakes of an unexpected Christmas snowstorm fell and it wasn’t until after Mary had left to meet with her sister for an early lunch that he’d remembered the record. It seemed as though it might be a nice accompaniment to his dinner preparations. 

The first few strains of Silent Night had caught him off guard for a moment. Just hearing the echoing sighs of a violin inside 221b after so much time was…startling. He’d smiled sadly and then shaken himself back into the present. And once he got over the initial shock, the music really was quite nice. Actually cheery. 

Until a quiet, haunting solo version of I’ll Be Home For Christmas poured out of the speakers. He’d sunk down in his armchair and just listened for the length of the song, tea forgotten next to him. When it ended, he’d remained sitting for the next two songs, fighting prickles at the corners of his eyes. 

Mary returned a few hours later, as he was pulling together the last minute details for dinner. 

"John, I tell you, we haven’t had a storm like this in YEARS, and for Christmas no less…” Her voice grew muffled as she struggled out the many layers of protection she was wearing against the weather. “Rather charming I suppose, though. Dinner smells amazing, love.” As she walked through the living room, she noticed the record on the turntable. “So you filled the place with holiday cheer this afternoon, did you?" 

John glanced over, confused for a moment, and saw what she was looking at. He cleared his throat. “Yes…it was. Actually…quite good. I enjoyed it. You’ll have to thank the man at the shop for me. It was…just the thing.” 

Mary didn’t even look back at him as she absently rearranged a few small items on the mantle. “Oh, he wasn’t an employee,” she said off-hand. “Just some bloke. Tall.” 

———————————————————————-

In which I faff about with perspective and lighting in ways that surely are not in the least bit accurate to the laws of physics. 

NO.