A/N So I am apparently full of angsty ideas lately. This one is short, but kinda sad and sweet. I saw something somewhere that said something along the lines of Sherlock whispering "I do" along with Mary at the wedding and John hearing him say it and his heart breaking. That is where this came from. Enjoy <3
I do
The words echoed through John's mind as he tried to fall asleep, his new wife curled against his side. He wasn't thinking of her though, his mind wandering back to what he had heard during the ceremony. He looked down at the pale blonde hair of his wife, fighting back a swell of emotions so tangled he could barely contain the tears.
I do
It wasn't Mary's voice he kept hearing, but he wished more than anything that it was. He could still see the devastated look on Sherlock's face when he turned to look at him after Mary said those two words. He had heard him, he had whispered it to. John's world had come crashing down around his ankles as he finally saw.
He saw a future he could have had, should have had. Sherlock by his side, exchanging vows and spending their lives together. He saw himself smiling and happy, truly happy for the first time in years. He saw Sherlock kissing him, holding him. He saw himself wrapped in a passionate embrace with the detective.
He saw it all, but he only felt pain.
It was too late, he was married, and Mary was pregnant. He couldn't leave the child without a father. He grew up with no father and wouldn't put his own kid through that.
He quietly slipped from the bed, pulling on his trousers and jumper before slipping away, leaving a note for his wife just in case.
He didn't know where he was going, but he just had to go somewhere other than that flat. He found himself at the familiar door of home.
221B Baker Street.
He let himself in, keeping as quiet as possible. He shouldn't be here, not on his wedding night.
"He isn't here." Mrs. Hudson, she was waiting for Sherlock to come home. She was worried about him. "He never came home after the wedding."
"Do you know where he would have gone?"
"No, but I would check the bridges or behind the clock tower."
He left again. He was chasing his dream, and finding himself in his own nightmare.
He wandered, walking along the near empty streets, looking for the familiar frame of Sherlock Holmes. The two words that ruined his life continued echoing through his mind. He wanted to be free.
When he found him, his heart broke into a thousand shards, slicing through his chest like knives. He was sitting on the rooftop of the hospital, puffing on a cigarette, his feet dangling off the edge like a child on a bridge.
"Mrs. Hudson called you?"
"No."
Another puff, John sat next to his friend.
"Right here, this is the spot where I made the biggest mistake of my life."
"You said it to."
"I shouldn't have jumped."
"I heard you."
"I should have called you, told you I was okay."
"I shouldn't have Married her."
They were silent for a time, mulling over the other's words.
"Is she going to keep the baby?"
"Yes."
"Congratulations."
"I am sorry."
Another puff, followed by a sniffle and a shaky breath.
"Me to."
John was in his worst nightmare, he was trapped and there was no way out. He saw himself pushing off, falling to the cold stone below and just giving up. It had been years since he had those thoughts, Sherlock had stopped them, now he was the cause of them.
"Were you planning on coming back?"
Hesitation from the detective caused his stomach to churn.
"I don't know."
"Will you come back for me?"
"Anything for you John."
The tears fell freely now. He had hurt this man so much, and in turn broke his own heart.
"Will you leave her?"
John hesitated, he couldn't leave the child. The silence of his hesitation hurt worse than he could have imagined. Sherlock nodded, putting out the cigarette on the cold stone and swung his legs back to solid ground, rising to leave.
"Sherlock?"
"Yes John?"
John stood as well, stepping close to the detective as his mind filled once again with images of the life he should have had.
The life he could still have.
"Anything for you Sherlock."
He pressed a timid kiss to the lips of the greatest man he had ever known.
It was fire, it was ice, it was right and it was wrong. It was hurt and pain and love.
It was everything they needed.
New images flashed before his eyes, pulling the corners of his mouth up into a soft smile and gathering up the shards of his heart, pieces starting to find their way home.
He saw himself and Sherlock, kissing, making love, taking care of the child.
He saw Sherlock teaching the child to play the violin, to observe, to love.
He saw them happy.
"Do you really want this John?"
The soft question whispered against his lips pulled more shards back into place. He whispered those two little words that had saved his life.
I do
