Sun rays cascaded into the brightly lit sanctuary. The stained glass windows shone a blue tint onto the floor. Rows were filled with family and friends alike, brought together for the union of man and wife. All was quiet except for the few murmurs of the crowd; soon hushed by the playing of music. Everybody rose and turned toward the back as the doors swung open. Out emerged a beautiful woman, clothed in white, holding a bouquet of pink peonies. Walking to the tempo of the music, her silk dress draped over the floor. Light fell perfectly onto the dress to reveal a floral pattern lining the gown.
"She really is beautiful", John Watson thought, gazing at her. She had olive skin and rosy cheeks, her auburn hair was pulled back into a bun. Etta was her name, and she was unconventionally beautiful. After years of being alone, John finally found a proper wife - he adored her. He loved the way her lips quirks after he tells her a joke, the way her hips sway as she walks toward him and the way her hair curls in front of her face. She was a woman every man would want for himself; and she was all his. She was his to love and to cherish, and he did love her, right? Why wouldn't he? She was beautiful, and he knew it.
John smiled and looked toward the crowd. He did not recognize anyone there, save for Harry, and the few friends that he made on Baker Street; Ms Hudson, Lestrade, Molly, and even Mycroft was there. Harry smiled at him; she was proud of her brother. John smiled back, when something caught his attention. A man, about two rows behind Harry, was getting into a heated conversation with Mycroft. Mycroft seemed very perturbed at the other man's presence. This other man was hard to see, as he was wearing a cap and his face was hidden by shadows.
"He looks so familiar" the army doctor thought. He focused on the man, trying to identify him. The obscure man turned his head daintily and stared directly at John. His dark hair fell to his eyes. His blue eyes. The nostalgic notion panged at his heart. "It can't be", John thought. "There's no way, i-". "Is everything alright?" Etta whispered. She was already beside him at the altar and noticed his face of discomfort. John gathered himself and grinned at her, "Everything is fine.. I'm fine.. Let's just start".
As the officiant commenced the wedding, John looked out towards the obscure man, just observing. "It can't be Sherlock" he reasoned, "I saw him... I saw him fall". The nameless man rested his hands together, folding his arms to form a triangle with his fingers. It was all too familiar. John felt a nudge on his shoulder and teared his eyes away. "It's time to say your vows" he heard a voice whisper into his ear. Watson cleared his throat and began; "When I.. I first met Etta, it was like love at first sight. She he-" he croaked. He noticed tears forming in his eyes, but he wasn't thinking of Etta. "Excuse me" he mumbled as he bunglingly hurried out of the room.
Watson entered a small closed room covered in linen. Only one small window, rendering the room dim. He paced around trying to clear his head. His palms sweaty, and face flushed, he stopped at the far end of the room. He stood, backside facing the door, leaning on the wooden mantelpiece.
John couldn't stand straight; all of his emotions were coming back to him all at once. It's been three years since he last saw him. Three years since he saw his friend fall to his death. John even thought on multiple occasions, that maybe there was someway Sherlock could still be alive. That maybe he was more than man. He had to be. Nobody could be that clever; but Sherlock was. Tears were streaming down his eyes. He hadn't thought of Sherlock in months and now he can't get him out of his head. Was that all it took? To get John back to where he was three years ago? A tearful mess.
He paused when he heard something behind him.
"Is it really you?" John asked. Silence. He turned around and asked again, this time with more choler, "Is it you, Sherlock?". The man entered the room, "How did you know?", he answered with a deep voice. John scoffed. "I observed" he replied disdainfully. Sherlock smiled at the irony. "I thought you were dead", Watson said coldly, "I watched you jump". Holmes' face darkened, "John..". "No-", John snapped, "I.. cried every night for you". John started pacing again, tears flowing from his eyes, "Nobody believed me when I said that you had to be alive, they told me to let you go. Do you know how hard it is to let your best friend go? The person you lo-". John cleared his throat, "Do you know what you put me through?". The pain in his eyes was evident. "I didn't have a choice", muttered Sherlock. John didn't need to say it. Sherlock can see it in his eyes; he did have a choice, you always have a choice.
John turned his back to Sherlock. "John, please" Sherlock begged, reaching for the doctor's shoulder. John felt very bitter towards his friend, "How could he do this to me?", he thought. He was overwhelmed with emotion, he didn't know how to feel; angry, sad, relieved? He turned to face the detective again and the tears had stopped falling. Holmes searched his companion's eyes. He could see pain, fear, love..
Sherlock reached up and wiped away the remaining evidence of tears from Watson's face. John closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. His breathing hitched, "Sherlock..." he breathed. The taller man leaned down and kissed the corner of Watson's mouth. John gradually found his way to Sherlock's lips and he pressed his face closer to the detective's. Sherlock moaned in the back of his throat and reached his arms to the doctor's face, pushing the two of them closer together. John nibbled on Sherlock's lips, creating a mix of pain and pleasure. The kiss grew more passionate and they were soon closer together than they have ever been before. Holmes' teeth opened up slightly, allowing for John's tongue to slip in. Watson's hands went to Sherlock's hair, and gripped his black curls. Sherlock pushed John against the wall and the long kiss broke into trails of kisses to their neck.
Sherlock grabbed John's face between his hands to admire and observe. It seemed like Watson was in deep thought. After a short silence, Watson finally looked into Sherlock's eyes and whispered, "Please don't leave me again". John convulsed into tears between Sherlock's neck. Sherlock wrapped his arms around his partner. A single tear fell from Sherlock's eye as he whispered into John's ear, "I'm sorry".