Sherlock- A Rock Opera OVERTURE

A/N- I was listening to Tommy-the rock opera and had the idea for this, my first really chaptered story that I’ve uploaded. I’m not planning on sticking as religiously to the story of the album as the first few chapters will suggest as the later songs on the album don’t really fit with the plan I have for this story and getting it to fit with the known story of Sherlock’s life before Study in Pink.
Sherlock’s story telling it set sometime after the Scandal in Belgravia but before the Reichbach Fall I imagine.
If you’re not aware of Tommy by The Who, then I serious suggest you check it out!!
Disclaimer- Obviously I don’t own Sherlock or Tommy.

Overture
It was early spring and John had decided that 221B Baker Street required a bit of a spring clean. He’d, rather hopefully asked Sherlock for his input in such an activity however the consulting detective had snorted, reclined on the sofa and replied, “You spring clean the flat and I’ll spring clean my mind palace, deal?” before shutting himself up in the halls of his mind palace before John could respond.
John had sighed and set about starting with the Kitchen. This was followed quite a while later by the front room and the bookcases that had become a mess and overloaded.
It was at this point he’d stumbled across an old scrap book containing old newspaper clippings. But not just any newspaper clippings, they all related to “‘Tommy’- the deaf, dumb and blind child.” All the clippings were chronologically in order and then alphabetical by paper after that.
John, of course, had heard the legend of Tommy many times during his childhood; both from his parents when they told his he should be grateful he wasn’t born trapped like that boy, and the documentation from new reals and papers.
What the doctor struggled to understand was why on earth Sherlock had these clippings on the boy. It wasn’t as if it was a fascinating cold case murder, or anything that he assumed would even somewhat engage the brilliant mind of the detective.
John flicked through nonchalantly, for a moment, then put it on the coffee table to ask about later.

Sherlock emerge some while later form his mind palace and instantly spotted the scrapbook, out of place, despite the supposed clean upand felt himself go cold, “John, why’s my scrapbook out?”
John reappeared from the Kitchen where he’d been making tea, “Oh, I just wondered why you had it, didn’t seem your sort of thing- the mystical healing of a deaf dumb and blind boy.”
“On the contrary it is exactly ‘my thing’. The scrapbook was in fact my mother’s and was passed on to my recently as its rightful owner.”
John frowned, “How can something belong to your mothers but you be its rightful owner?”
Sherlock sighed. He knew he was going to have to tell his flatmate eventually, otherwise Mycroft or Mummy would bring it up and John would be angry, so he figured it was best to get it out the way, “The scrapbook is my Mother’s however the life inside is my own.”
John, understandably, didn’t grasp what had been said until moments later, when he stumbled to his chair and gawped like goldfish, “You’re…You’re ‘Tommy’, the ‘Tommy’…oh why am I not surprised…”
“I can see this is going to take some explaining, finish making your tea, then sit down.” Sherlock exasperated before flopping down on to the sofa again and taking a moment to arrange the appropriate files, in the mind palace…