First fic, please be kind

I don't own any of these characters or the show. If I did, there would be constant fluff and barely any substantial plot… kind of like this fic.

Filling a tumblr prompt

Inside

John smiled. It wasn't a true smile, not really. He hadn't really smiled in ages. Three years to be exact. Three years and eight months. But still, it was a smile, and that was enough. If he could even be a little happy, that was enough because a little happy was better than before. Much better.

John felt a small nudge on the small of his back as he was brought back to reality. He turned around and sent a small, grateful smile to Lestrade behind him. John ran his hands nervously over his suit and looked down the aisle at the beautiful figure in white walking towards him. She was beaming, radiating with pure joy.

John was jealous of her; jealous of the complete happiness she could feel with him when he couldn't feel that with her. But he pasted a smile on his face anyway, because that's what he was supposed to do. He was supposed to be happy today. Still, despite what he was "supposed" to be feeling on that day, he couldn't shake the horrid pit in his stomach. The feeling inside him that told him he was wrong, that this wasn't the way it was supposed to be. The feeling that had been growing since that day. That horrible day. The day that Sherlock fell.

Simply thinking the man's name sent John into a whirlwind of emotions. He put a stopper on them as fast as he could. Not today, John. You can't do this to Mary, not today. He told himself.

Then, Mary was in front of him. She was beautiful and smiling and happy and there. That's what matters, John told himself, that she's here. He isn't, but she is.

As the priest got on with the ceremony, John looked out across his friends and family in attendance. Harry, his mother, and father sat in the front pew, smiling and happy. Happy he was finally getting on with his life. After everything had happened, they weren't sure he would last. But he had and that's all that mattered to them. Further back was Mycroft, staring- albeit characteristically- at his phone. Come to think of it, John wasn't quite sure why he had invited Mycroft. It had made sense at the time but now seeing him was just a reminder. A reminder of everything John would never have.

Mary! Remember Mary, John! He lectured himself mentally. He turned back to her, sensing the concern in her eyes. He smiled at her. No, not a smile, more that he turned the sides of his mouth up to appease her. But that's what most of his smiles looked like now so she didn't notice anything amiss.

Finally, John turned his attention back to the ceremony. The familiar words that had been rehearsed so many times over played familiar tunes to his memory. Familiar, comfortable, that's what kept him here. The familiarity and comfort Mary gave him. She brought him out of his depressing those few years ago and stayed with him. She was there for him when he needed someone, it wasn't her fault she wasn't the one he needed.

"If anyone can show just cause why this couple cannot be legally joined in marriage, let them speak now or forever hold their peace," the priest spoke evenly, clearly comfortable with the words and their insignificance. After all, how often do people really object at weddings? It just wasn't done. "A bit not good" he would have said long ago.

"I do"

The voice rung out across the church and was met with earsplitting silence from the assembled audience. John didn't look up. He didn't blink. He didn't even dare to breathe. He couldn't bring himself to move because it might shatter the illusion because that familiar baritone was something he hadn't even dared to imagine for more than three years.

"John…" the voice came from much closer now, barely even five feet from him.

John squeezed his eyes shut. "No. This isn't happening. Not now," he whispered.

"John… I…"

John opened his eyes. Illusion be damned, he needed to know. Carefully, he turned his head slightly to his left, heart drumming in his ears.

And there he was. Standing in the middle of a church aisle, just a few feet away. John need only take the four stairs down separating them and-

"John… John dear what's going on?" a quiet voice came from beside him. A voice very different from the one he wanted to hear.

"I don't… I don't know…" John uttered, barely a whisper. He was surprised he even had that much of a voice, considering it felt as though his heart had taken permanent residence in his throat. John still hadn't taken his eyes from the pale figure before him, trying to understand. He looked just the same. Same unreadable expression, same gloriously curly black hair, same long, thin limbs, and the same bloody cheekbones. And the same piercing silver eyes staring back at him, seeming to look straight into his soul.

"You can't be… real…" the last word forced John's voice to crack, overwhelmed by emotion. "You're… you're dead."

A small smile quirked across Sherlock's face as he continued to stare into John's eyes, quietly muttering so only John could hear, "We both know that's not quite true."

Just like that, a real smile broke across John's face. It almost hurt it was so pure and happy but it was the good kind of pain. The kind of pain that was a cause of not doing something wonderful for such a long time, it almost hurt to remember how much you enjoyed it.

"John can I have a word… in private?" Sherlock muttered slightly impatiently, giving Mary a look John remembered as the one he reserved for idiots. A look John fondly remembered getting on several occasions.

Without realizing it, John had descended the steps and was following Sherlock out of the church.

"John Hamish Watson," Mary's voice rang out across the church, strong and resolute as she was, brimming with the balance of passion and sense she managed to posses at once. "I have put up with a lot in the last three years and you know I love you. But I will not be left on my wedding day. Not for him. It's enough you talk about him nonstop despite his being… gone. It's enough you say his name in your sleep. I will not do this. If you walk out of here John, this is over. You will never see me again. Do you want to do that?"

John stopped for a moment, but only a moment. Before he could think anything of it, he was following Sherlock. Just like he always had and just like he always would.