Hey My Lovelies!!!! Here is an angsty mother fucker of a story....it's a little different than one of my normal JohnLock stories...it's actually told from Greg's perspective....I hope you like it!!! Enjoy<3
It had been a beautiful wedding, the attempted murder aside, but something had felt off.
Greg didn't like Mary, and he hated the thought of John winding up with. John was supposed to be with Sherlock, and for years, Greg had been certain that they were together.
Then Sherlock had thrown himself off the roof of Bart's, and now John was marrying Mary.
As a subtle protest, he decided to leave early, claiming an early morning.
As he said his goodbyes, politely congratulating the happy couple, he noticed a tension between the bride and groom that shouldn't have been there on the happiest day of their lives.
He gave it six months.
He was making his way down the walkway, the music starting to fade, when he caught sight of a figure standing at the end of the path.
"Sherlock?" The figure turned, revealing the detective that had become his friend. Greg could tell instantly that something was wrong.
Sherlock was trembling, his eyes glassy and lost as he seemed to struggle to keep his breathing steady. Greg stepped closer, concern curling in his gut as he approached the taller man.
"Hey, you alright Mate?" Sherlock huffed an empty laugh, rubbing a hand over his face and kicking at a stone on the ground.
"You know," Greg felt the knot in his stomach grew as he heard the concealed tears in Sherlock's voice, "I always thought it was rubbish when people said, 'love hurts.'" Understanding flooded Greg and he closed his eyes, feeling his heart break for his friend. "But it does, doesn't it? It burns, and tears through your heart and it just won't stop." Greg closed the gap between himself and the younger man, pulling him in for a tight hug.
"Oh, Sherlock." He whispered, feeling his friend sob against him and beginning to fight back tears of his own.
"Why does it hurt so much?" Sherlock sobbed, crumbling against Greg, making the rest of his already breaking heart shatter painfully within his chest.
"Because it was real." He whispered, pulling back from the taller man and wiping the tears off one of his cheeks. "Come on, you're coming over to mine tonight." Sherlock sniffled, shaking his head and trying to pull away.
"No, I-I'll- I'll be fine. I uh, I just want to just go home and-"
"And shoot up." Sherlock visibly flinched, his face filling with shame as he blinked rapidly, avoiding Greg's eyes. "Come on Sherlock, I've known you for seven years, I know what your Danger Nights look like." He placed a hand at the base of Sherlock's spine and started leading the younger man away. "You're going to stay at mine until you don't feel like reaching for the needle, fair enough? We'll order some take away, and crack open the obnoxiously expensive bottle of whisky your brother gave me for Christmas, and binge watch Doctor Who or something, sound good?" Sherlock gave in and let himself be led through the parking lot, responding with only a slight nod as they walked away.
Sherlock stayed with Greg for two days, sleeping on his sofa and moping about his flat. He didn't eat, and when he did sleep, he often was woken by nightmares, waking Greg as he cried out for John.
It was late in the evening when Greg's phone buzzed, signifying a text from John. He glanced over at Sherlock, who had finally fallen asleep before opening the message.
