small thing that struck me
enjoy
oooooooooo
I want you. God, I want you more than I've wanted anything in my life.
But it seems I made too many mistakes. I no longer have you all to myself. She does: Mary. Now Mary Watson.
I hate her. I hate her because you smile at her like you used to smile at me. I hate her because she too you away from me. I hate her because even though you may not know it yet (and she doesn't either), she has your child. The child that I know you always wanted. The child I could never really give you because of the small setback that I am male. I did want to, though. I went over countless options and methods in my head of how to give you the family you wanted while staying with me. Seems my efforts were wasted...
I hate myself. I hate myself because if I had just found some way to defeat Moriarty before things escalated the way they had, I might not have had to jump. I wouldn't have had to be seperated from you for so long. I wouldn't have to be standing here, in this stupid tux, posing as nothing more than your best friend and former flatmate. I wouldn't have to feel myself braking inside as watch you, happy your previous (that is, ex) commander was safe now, at the hospital. I wouldn't be holding back heat from my eyes as I remember the tune to the music that I composed solely for you but was forced to tack her name onto. I hate myself because if I hadn't been so arrogant, I might be the one you were vowing your life to, rather than her. What the hell did she do to deserve you, anyway?
I can't hate you, though. How could I?
I wish I could. I wish I hated you for moving on, but I can tell you still aren't healed from what I'd done and therefore not truly at peace with it. I wish I hated you for kissing her, baring a child with her, laughing and smiling with her... but I knew for years your fondness for close relationships. I didn't like it then, and I certainly don't like it now, but what can I do? I can't keep you hidden from the world forever. You shine far too brightly.
I love you more than words can say. The sad part is, everyone knows except you. Even Mary seems to know.
But I will deny and hold back my affections for your sake. After all I'd done, the least I can do is promise I will stay your friend. I will protect you, your undeserving wife, and your unborn child.
I know you'll hate me for it once you realize, but I won't see the child as her's; as Mary's. I'll see it as ours. I'll give it as much love and protection as if I'd beared it for you. Boy or girl. I know they'll have the beauty and brilliance that I see in you. I'm sure there's some psychological issue with me willing to go through childbirth for you, but I've never been one for the normal, anyway.
And that's what you loved about me, wasn't it? That I was odd and dangerous?
... I wish I could say I was confident that you still loved me like that. Even if you never said the words- were never willing to- I could see and feel it. Now I'm not so sure. And it scares the hell out of me.
Know this: As I set myself up here on the small stage, your eyes fixed on me with that fond smile, ready to play my violin for you... I will suffer any heartbreak to save you from another moment of misery.
I love you, John.
oooooooooooooooooo
sappy...