The Passion on 221 Baker Street

Song: The Passion on 221 Baker Street
Music, Lyrics & Voice: AI

[Verse1]
For Watson's pen records the case, the logic and the wit,
And not the tender look exchanged when Holmes's mind would split
A theory open, bare and cold, and Watson, near and warm,
Would see beyond the intellect, and shelter from the storm.
The doctor, scarred from old campaigns, with steady, gentle hands,
Observes the man the city fears, and truly understands
The restless soul that burns within, the genius and the plight,
And knows that in the fog of fame, he is the guiding light.
[Chorus]
In the sitting-room at 221B, where London's clamour fades,
A violin's lamenting sighs, a firelight's soft parades.
The pipes, the papers, all arranged, a tidy, quiet scene,
But in the corners of their lives, a secret lives unseen.
[Verse2]
And Holmes, who scoffs at human love, and calls the heart a snare,
Finds his own logic undermined by Watson's quiet care.
The pulse he takes is not from fever, but a moment held too tight,
A brush of fingers in the dark, a silent, knowing light.
Their world is built on coded words, on gestures brief and small,
A stolen glance, a whispered name, a leaning in to fall.
No one would think to look for more, in that Victorian air,
Than perfect friendship, strong and true, an intellectual pair.
[Chorus]
In the sitting-room at 221B, where London's clamour fades,
A violin's lamenting sighs, a firelight's soft parades.
The pipes, the papers, all arranged, a tidy, quiet scene,
But in the corners of their lives, a secret lives unseen.
[Outro]
But in the hours when gaslight dims and the case is put to bed,
Another mystery unfolds, a truth that's left unsaid.
And every word that's not quite written, every touch that's not confessed,
Is proof of the love that hides away, in 221B, at rest.